Tag Archives: reason

All in the Family

I went to my mom’s last night to take her out for her birthday dinner. It was early but I have to work on her birthday. My brother and his girlfriend were going to join us.

She was happy to see me. I sat down at her kitchen table and we had some small talk. She asked “are you still doing the “no drinking” thing?” I said yes. It has been about 65 days. She smiled and said “that is great! How do you feel?” I was shocked. I told her I felt really good. But this was the first time she seemed to be very positive about my sobriety. Not questioning it or doubting it. I told her this is the longest I have ever been sober. The longest I ever went was “62 or 63” days according to my journals. She beamed with… was that pride? She said that is really great and she was so happy for me.

She was hesitant to pick a place for dinner. “Let’s just order pizza or take out.” My brother insisted we take her out. “Okay well where do you guys want to go.” Mom it is your birthday dinner. You pick a place. “But what do you guys want?” Fine, I want Indian. “Ew I don’t like Indian.” Exactly. Pick something you like.

We went to a restaurant pub. It had nice food. My mom and brother ordered Heineken and his girlfriend got some hard ice tea type of drink. I had my soda. Again, I had no desire to drink alcohol. But I did notice that they both had two beers each during dinner. I easily would have had at least four. I would have been eying the waitress every time my bottle got low to request a new one.

This morning, I woke up early and joined my mom in the living room for coffee while she read her newspaper. She shared some of the stories she was reading with me.  Then I talked about my friend’s visit. For the first time, I told my mom the story of me getting drunk at the wedding. I told her how I was “one of those” at the wedding. My mom said “I guess it means you can not handle drinking socially. I guess you can never drink again?” I said no, I can’t handle it. She said she guesses it is good I know that.

We talked about some of my drunk mistakes. I left out the ones about sex. We talked about all my lost phones and wallets and cameras. We talked about the people we know that are battling depression but still continue  to drink. I told her I feel happier now that I quit drinking. I did not go into details about my own struggle with depression. But I did say that I got depressed and cried when drunk a lot.

We talked about the different types of drunks. The party people. The depressed ones. The mean ones. She began to talk about my dad being a nasty drunk. Then she talked about her own father being a nasty drunk. This was the first time I ever heard about that. I never met her father because he died before I was born but all I’ve ever heard was praises about him being a great man. How he was better than my father. And now, for the first time in my 38 years, I hear he was a drunk but then he just quit. He just stopped drinking. And then he died of a stroke in his 50s. Is that why she used to always criticize my dad for not being able to quit? With all his DUIs, she thought he could just quit if he was strong enough. If he loved his family enough. If he was as good as her father.

I wonder what other secrets my sobriety will bring out?

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Mistake #67- Not gonna go into much detail now but there were many mistakes as a result of my DUIs. But one huge regret I have was I missed my mom’s 60th birthday because I was sitting in jail for a week after my second DUI.

My Sobriety, My Health

Posted in 60-90 days by

I really wish people would not discourage others from exercise. “Oh you don’t need to lose weight” might be an attempt at a compliment, but usually comes off sounding condescending. Or is that my alcoholic brain thinking that?

I mentioned going to the gym the other day and my coworker told me I don’t need the gym. Who doesn’t need some physical activity in their lives? She told me I am not overweight. I asked her does that mean she had a consult with my doctor? According to my last physical, I am overweight and my cholesterol was slightly high. (Does beer affect cholesterol levels?)  She said “well if you are fat, then I am huge.” I said nothing.

It seems people are uncomfortable if others try to be healthy if they do not have healthy habits. And they belittle those that believe in physical exertion. They make fun of people for eating salads and call it “rabbit food”. They criticize organic foods. They say junk food just tastes too good to eat healthy. It is comparable to people being uncomfortable with other’s sobriety if they question their own drinking. Being drunk just feels too good.

My homemade salad

My homemade salad

I was uncomfortable around sober people. I used to feel as if a friend fell in battle when they quit drinking. They were no longer along side of me in the drinking war. I left them on the couch in the trenches as I trudged to the bar without them. I never considered they were rescued and sent away from combat.

I am now fighting for sobriety and health. Once again, thoughts have been creeping in some hidden part of my brain saying “maybe you can enjoy drinks again one day… ” It is like: I know I do not want to drink now, but I wish those thoughts of “maybe one day” would disappear. I also know I should not worry about the possibilities in the future. Except the possibility of being able to do push ups again. Right now that is my goal. I want to be able to do 10 push ups by the 90 days sober.

I need to ignore the naysayers and those that are cynical about exercise and sobriety.

YouStaySober

Mistake – #66-  I used to always excuse this one with “I was young and dumb.” But the alcoholism was already seeping into my inexperienced bones.

I was in a school full of Navy and Marines. I was sort of dating a Marine. I say “sort of” because he did not want anyone else knowing about it. And we did not go on dates. Ok, I was having casual sex with a Marine who wanted it kept hushed. I was naive enough to think it a meaningful relationship.

He had a party at a family member’s house where he was house-sitting. He invited most of the Navy and Marines that went to our school. I remember it was near Easter cause someone brought bunny shaped marshmallows and we toasted them over the grill. I got very drunk. The Marine I was “sort of” dating was ignoring me. A few of the people suspected he and I had a thing going. Someone told me they would pay me a dollar to push the Marine in the pool. So I did. It made the whole party laugh. But then I felt like shit and kept apologizing. Oh this really made the Marine mad and embarrassed. He ignored me more and began to talk to other girls.

A group of guys arrived from our school late. They were on their way to some clubs or somewhere else. Just a quick stop. They brought Taco Bell. One of the guys was sitting on the couch and I crawled up next to him. “Can I have a taco?” He hands one to me. “Want to join me in the bedroom?” He put down the tacos and followed me.

I remember it was a little girl’s bedroom in which we stumbled. We were passionately kissing and pushed some Barbie dolls off a bed. We were giggling as we undressed each other. And we were having good, drunk sex when people started to knock on the door. His friends were trying to find him and head off to their next party. We thought they would give up and go away. Instead, they broke down the door.

He jumped up to try to keep his friends out while trying to hide his nudity with whatever piece of clothing he grabbed. I hid under the covers. It was 4 or 5 guys and they pushed passed him to grab the blanket to identify me. Then they all laughed and told him to get dress. They were ready to leave. Once the broken door was closed (but it was now cracked), he came over and try to calm the crying me. I told him to go. So he did.

My friends came in and consoled me. I asked if the Marine knew. Yes, the whole party knew. I asked if he was mad. No, he was playing video games. He didn’t seem to care.

The Marine ended up getting in a lot of trouble from his family. The house was a mess. Beer bottles were in the pool. And they wanted to know how did the bedroom door get broken. Also, they found a used condom on that little girl’s bed.

Sober Language

Posted in 60-90 days by

I have always been interested in other languages. I went to an elementary school that had one hour Spanish lessons each week for all grades. From Kindergarten to 5th grade. I only went to that school for two years but I remember learning colors, numbers, and short sentences. “Soy morena.” “La casa es grande.” Maybe that is what sparked my interest in linguistics?

I have some books to teach myself other languages. I took four years of high school Spanish and a semester in college, but I am nowhere near fluent. I have many phrase books in different languages. French. German. Mandarin. Portuguese. Swedish. Thai. I had one for Bahasa Indonesian and was very upset when I lent it to someone who lost it.

Now I am trying to learn the language of sobriety.

I read a wonderful blog about surrendering to sobriety. I can not predict that I will never drink again. But I feel I won’t. I feel I relinquished alcohol. I feel I have more reasons not to drink than to drink. I keep reminding myself of drunk mistakes daily. I translate those mistakes into reasons to stay sober.

I feel I am learning new uses for words. I am now associating abstinence with something other than sex. Relapse is not about only about a returning cancer. I am learning to say “no thanks” when offered a drink. Phrases such as “I can not drink anymore” and “I like myself sober” scroll through my head everyday.

The thing is, if I don’t have sobriety, I don’t have anything.

-Matthew Perry

I was fluent in the drunk language. I spoke in excuses. I verbalized expertise in hangover treatments. I once had someone give me a travel bottle of Advil for my purse for mornings I woke up in a stranger’s apartment. I walked the walk and talked the talk of an alcoholic. No phrase book needed.

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Mistake #65- I was living in a city abroad taking a four-week language course. There were 10 students from all over the world and only two of us from English-speaking countries. Myself and an Aussie guy. The teacher was a young, native speaker.

The weekend after our last class, the teacher invited us all to come out for celebration drinks. The party ended up being only me, my boyfriend, and the Aussie. We all met at a bar. Two female friends of  the teacher joined us. I think he was interested in one and trying to hook the other up with the Aussie. The six of us were having fun. My boyfriend wanted to leave. I did not. I never wanted the party to end. So he left and I stayed at the bar.

We all kept drinking and having fun. I was trying to be wing-woman and get the girls to hook up with the teacher and Aussie. But they both eventually left. The Aussie invited the teacher and I back to his flat. More drinking. I remember the three of us sitting in the kitchen, drinking beers, and sharing music we liked. We were on the Aussie’s laptop and searching YouTube with “oh you will love this band!” or song.

Don’t remember much else but waking up in the Aussie’s bed. Nude. I have no idea what happened. I never asked. My dress was laying on a chair like I placed it there. It did not feel like I had sex. Some people have told me before that during blackouts, I would undress and go to bed like I was at home. I never asked the Aussie. I preferred to believe the “at home” theory. If you say the excuse enough, like repeating words in a new language, it starts to become real.

One Day At a Time

Posted in 60-90 days by

wpid-20140325_042534.jpgSomeone from work texted me asking me to work extra tonight. I replied “I will if someone brings me cake”. I am taking this awards thing seriously. I want awards for staying sober. I want awards for working extra. I want awards for going to the gym! Maybe I need to start finding awards with no calories.

I saved her number in my contacts. As I was doing so, I smiled. I used to have to put “COWORKER” in front of names of people I worked with as a caution to not text or call that person drunk. It felt liberating to think I will never have to worry about drunk dialing again. At least won’t have those worries as long as I stay away from that first drink.

These little moments make me very thankful I am sober. I am enjoying things I am learning from other sober bloggers. I am learning about myself from my reactions to blogs and my own comments. Remembering my drunken mistakes is therapeutic for me. I never want to go back to that life. My brain seems to be equating booze with cigarettes. Ew. That stuff if nasty. (No offense to smokers.)

When reading Kristen Johnston’s Guts, she said the phrase to take sobriety “one day at a time” reminded her of the show with that name starring Bonnie Franklin, Mackenzie Phillips, Valerie Bertinelli and Pat Harrington. I busted out laughing as I read it. That is exactly what I think of when I hear it. Then I think of when I lived with a friend and I was always fixing things that broke in her house, our mutual friend nicknamed me “Schneider.” The friend who owned the house was too young to get the reference. But having these small, happy moments of sobriety make me appreciate the saying more. I even found a magnet with the saying that I hang near my desk. Today is going to be a another good, sober day!

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Flat, Freezing, and booze at your door

Posted in 60-90 days by

I got off work this morning and found my rear driver side tire was flat. Completely flat. Like I was at age 12. I was tired and it was freezing out. I was very thankful that my mom gets me a triple A membership every year as my Christmas gift.

I called AAA. My brain was not fully charged. I asked if they could tow me somewhere or fix the flat. I was told they could not fix it but they could put my spare on if I had one. I felt dumb. I did not think of putting a spare on. I have one and I know how to change a tire. I was just thinking of bed. And due to the low temps, I agreed to have a guy come change the tire for me. I might as well take advantage of having AAA. I knew if I tried and had problems, I would have gotten easily frustrated.

HALT should add a F for freezing.

(not my actual car)

(not my actual car)

After the spare was on, my commute home took longer due to traffic. But I still did not go to bed when I got home. I stayed up messaging with my ex- boyfriend. I think he was flirting with me. It felt good. I might be single and with no husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend/fuck buddy but I feel happy to know I have an ex-boyfriend supporting my sobriety from far away. And he is far enough away to not threaten my sobriety. Or I hope so.

I had an appointment with my trainer this afternoon. I was very tired because I only had five and half hours sleep. I left the gym without completing my workout so I can get new tires for my car. I am glad I have been working overtime to pay for this.

Sitting in the auto shop lounge watching the news. A story about an app for alcohol delivery comes on. Really? Just have to make it easier to be an alcoholic? Would moderate drinkers use this? My friends and I used to say we wish you could order beer delivery with pizza. It seems this is possible in New York City and Boston now.

I was thankful no one sitting near me commented about the story. I still do not know how to react to coworkers that make jokes about getting drunk. I just join in with an uncomfortable laugh. One woman I really like makes “it is 5pm somewhere” jokes a lot. She is in her 60s. I could see me and her going out for happy hour back in my drinking days. Now I dread her asking me to join her in anything outside of work.

Mistake #62- I invited a coworker to join me out for happy hour with a group of people I met on MySpace. It was a group for single locals. I arrived before she did. I was chatting with this one good-looking guy. He seemed pretty arrogant. He was going to school for law or politics and was very opinionated. When my coworker arrived, he was instantly interested in her. She was very beautiful. But she had a boyfriend back home. She was only joining in so I wouldn’t be alone at this meetup. (But I would have been okay with my friends wine and beer.)

Even though I did not like this guy, I was jealous. And I got pissed off that she was not announcing she was not available. After a few drinks, I started to ask “So how is Bill?” or whatever her man’s name was. She gave some answer “like good” and then mentioned to this guy flirting with her that she had a boyfriend. He did not seem to care. I guess if you are at a singles meetup, it is assumed your relationships do not matter. She sipped her few drinks and drank slowly. She had to drive. I was taken public transportation so I kept chugging back my beers.

She left after happy hour was over. Arrogant man turned his attention towards me. I guess I was an okay backup after two hours of drinking. I remember trying to talk to other guys and ignore him. I was not gonna be his consolation prize. He kept wanting to argue and debate on any topic that was brought up in the group conversation. I was so annoyed by him. But I kept drinking. And I woke up in his apartment the next day.

I remember feeling shame but also felt like I won. Like I beat out my coworker. She might be beautiful but I got to go home with the jerk. That was how my brain worked with no self-respect. My self-esteem was flat like my tire.

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Fear and Understanding

Posted in 60-90 days by

I think a lot of people fear what they do not understand. Social drinkers fear alcoholics. Alcoholics fear alcohol. Addicts fear sobriety. One religion fears the other. Some people seem to fear people of different sexual orientation.

Since going sober seems to be about honesty, I need to admit I lied a few times in my blogs. I played the pronoun game. A few of the guys I dated actually had the pronoun “she”. The relationship I was in when I first attempted AA was with a woman. She was the one I bruised up in one of my blackouts. She was the one that came with me to a few meetings and supported me going sober for our relationship. But we went back to drinking and other issues caused us to split.

So that is my confession of the day. It is who I am. I did not choose it. But I choose sobriety.
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Mistake #61- I invited a woman I was seeing to a music festival. I liked her but I did not want anything serious. My relationship with my ex boyfriend of almost two years just ended and I wanted to “enjoy” being single.  Actually, I was still in love with my ex-boyfriend so I was not ready for a real relationship with anyone else. To add to the emotional confusion, I was not staying in the area. I was saving up for a long trip in a few months. I did not want anyone tying me down.

I had friends there were going to the festival. We were all camping there. I arrived Thursday night and set up two tents. When my lady-friend showed up Friday, she was upset that there were two tents. “Oh is the second one for when I piss you off?” I said we just might want more room. But yes, that was the exact reason for the second tent. I had a large cooler full of beers plus the festival had beer tents. I predicted us getting drunk and fighting. It is sad that I had to have backup plans for drunk fights.

She met my friends. They all seemed to like her. I was relieved that I did not have to keep her occupied at all times. She could hang out with my friends. I could do my own thing or go off for beers whenever without having to “check in” with her.

I spent Friday to Sunday drunk. I started out each morning with mimosas and had a diet of mostly beer all weekend. I passed out early on Saturday night in my tent and missed all the bands that night. I actually only remember two bands from the whole weekend. My lady-friend hung out with my friends Saturday night since I was no fun that night.

She helped me pack up the next day before she left. I was drinking Sunday morning to lighten the load of the coolers. I did stop about an hour before leaving. I was still slightly tipsy for my hour and half drive home. I started drinking again once I got home.

I was drunk that night when I got the email from my male friend. He wanted to apologize for Saturday night. Turns out that while I was passed out, my lady-friend and him made out while they were drunk. The problem was he was engaged. He said he felt guilty, so he told his fiancée. And then he decided to confess to her that he and I made out a few months before when I first met them. The night he and I kissed, we were both drunk and at another camping festival. I did not meet his fiancée yet. He offered to walk me to my tent and then grabbed me for a long, deep kiss. We never told anyone nor spoke about that kiss. I met her the next morning and felt bad. But now she knew. I was so worried about the rest of our group of friends finding out. I was worried she was going to hate me now. I told him to apologize to her for me. He told me not to worry. He said she understands that we were both drunk. But he was sorry if he caused problems between me and my girl. I was defensive with “she is not MY GIRL. She is just a friend.”

But I messaged her that night while drunk. I was furious that she risked messing up my circle of friends. I did not care that she kissed someone (or at least I did not think I cared?) But why did she have to kiss the guy that is engaged! I started blaming her for bringing drama into my life. If my friends stop inviting me to camp with them, it was her fault! I should never have invited her! I ended things with her and broke off contact with her.

Who was creating the drama?

After a year, she and I started to talk again. We are now friends again. She is one of the few that knows I quit alcohol. Well, I told her I quit for a year. I still fear what that group of friends will say about my sobriety. Will they be understanding?

 

Responsibility

Posted in First 30 days by

Have you heard about this story:

Man sues casino for getting him drunk

I laughed. I shouldn’t have. But I did. I thought “only in America would someone try to avoid responsibility and sue for their mistake.”

Yes, the casino should not have served someone who was visibly drunk. I always wonder what is “visibly drunk”. I have had blackouts that shocked friends because I “seemed fine”. They have let me drive because I was walking and talking okay. They tell me they did not know how drunk I was until I started swerving the car. I guess I was good at faking sobriety.

This guy lost money because the casino kept serving him alcohol. I want to yell “IT IS VEGAS! It is riskier than a minefield”. He has a $250,000 Mercedes-Benz. He was a regular in Vegas. He lost the money and then went to another casino, but that place was warned not to do business with him. (Was he going to try to win back the money there?) Plus, he admits he is on prescriptions that increases intoxication but the casino host is liable because he knew about the medication. To me, it sounds like a case of a sore loser who needs to get help instead of a lawsuit. If he wins this, I hope the judge will force him into rehab for alcoholism and gambling. I think this guy needs to take responsibility that his addictions are not the casino’s fault.

I have used “I was drunk” as my excuse to avoid responsiblity so much. That drunk sex did not count. I spent a lot of money but I will just work extra to make up for it.  I did not mean what I said. Sorry I lost my camera with my sister’s 30th birthday photos. I was drunk and whoever found it is an asshole for not posting it on Craigslist Lost and Found. Only jerks take advantage of drunk people.

Now I have to take responsibility for my sobriety. Am I finally an adult now?

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So many mistakes from trips to Vegas. Here are a few:

Mistakes #54, 55, 56, 57, 58, &59- I booked a trip to Vegas for a friend’s birthday. I invited a female friend from California to meet us there. I booked a room at the Flamingo because that was where Birthday Boy would be staying. A week before the trip, he told me his boyfriend dumped him and he couldn’t afford Vegas now. He canceled his trip. Then a few days before, my friend in California got sick and did not think she could join. Screw it. I was still going. I would enjoy Vegas alone.

I remember it was December. My first night, I spent time at the bar playing Blackjack on a machine. I played too much because the bartender kept flirting. Before bed, I decided to get photos of the Christmas tree across the street at Caesar’s palace. A cute guy was walking by as I was taking photos. I pointed at him and said  “YOU are not American.” He was startled. He stopped, apologized for not being American, and introduced himself. He was French. I tried to explain I did not know why I said that but I guess his fashion sense or hair or something suggested my observation. Maybe it was drunk powers. I asked if he wanted to join me for a drink. He was on his way back to his hotel but accepted my offer. It was about 2am.

Christmas tree in front of Caesar's

Christmas tree in front of Caesar’s

We drank in the casino and chatted. I must have been telling him things I liked about Vegas because we walked to the Venetian. He said he was impressed with the beauty. Then said some line about the beauty of the casino and me. He kissed me. We ended up at his hotel. I think he was staying at the Stratosphere. I remember going on the Speed Ride at the Sahara Hotel on my way back to my hotel the next morning. I remember still being drunk when I went on the ride.

The Venetian

The Venetian

I booked tickets for a few shows for the weekend. First, I thought “what would be a very Vegas thing to do?” Tom Jones was in town. I thought it would not be unusual to see him. I booked a seat for his show on Friday night. Then I reserved a ticket for Thunder Down Under on Saturday. It would have been more fun with gay guys but I would enjoy watching the Aussie male dancers by myself.

The Tom Jones concert was fun It was at the MGM Casino. The audience were at tables with four seats around each. I found myself seated with to three, young Canadians. They were in their twenties. Two girls and one guy. The four of us got along and had a great time. The one girl had a pair of underwear in her purse that she ran down to the front to throw on stage. We all went to a bar after the concert. We had a lot of drinks there. The Canadians eventually said goodnight and went back to their hotel. I tried to encourage them to stay out later. I asked about meeting up again the next day. They left without giving me contact information. Maybe I was an annoying drunk to them?

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I went back to the Flamingo and slept all day. I woke up for dinner and another night of drinking. The next night was horrible.

I do not remember where I ate. But I must have drunk a lot with dinner. I remember planning to take the monorail drunk but I was getting frustrated because it was not arriving fast enough. I had to get down to Excalibur for the Thunder Down Under show. I gave up waiting for the tram and went back through the casino to get a taxi. Then I bitched at the taxi driver for not going fast enough.

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I was a little late for the show. I had a good seat at a table in front. I do not remember any of the show. I was trashed. And I kept ordering more drinks. I have a photo of me with the dancers after the show. I think you can get one for $15. I look so sloshed in this photo. I am squatting in front of them with my arms spread wide in front of me like I am saying “TA-DA!”

After that show, I decided going to the nightclub Pure in Caesars Palace would be fun. Get some dancing in before going back to my room. I remember waiting in line and chatting with everyone else waiting. I kept running across to the closest bar for more rum and Diet Cokes while waiting. I think we waited an hour. (It could have been 15 minutes.) I can not believe I was still functioning and standing. I was so drunk at the male revue show. They still let me in the club. I do not remember anything inside except I met a very tall, Latino guy. He was a local.

Most of the rest of the night is a complete blur but I recollect bits of it. I ended up back at his apartment. But I decided I did not want to have sex. I do not know what happened but I started to get upset. I screamed and yelled at him “DON’T TOUCH ME!” He kicked me out.

I had no idea where I was. I could see the hotels and casinos on the strip but I could not figure out how to get there. I was crying and walking towards the lights. I lost my phone. Before I did, I called and left a very depressing message on my sister’s voicemail. It scared her. I remember seeing a shuttle van for a casino that must have been off duty but there was a driver in it with his window down. I ran over, howling, asking if this guy could give me a ride to my hotel. He started to roll up his window to avoid the hysterical, wasted woman. I grabbed money out of my wallet and started wailing “I have money! I can pay you! PLEASE!!!!” He drove away.

I must have dropped a lot of that money. I remember having a stash of hundreds in my hands I was trying to shove through that van’s window. I did not have it the next day. I think I lost $600-$800. Lost it. Not gambled it.

I walked back to the strip most of the way. I cried and screamed into the air the whole time. I can remember screaming “I WANT TO DIE!” I decided to start walking in the middle of the road hoping a car would hit me. I don’t remember if there was a median or just lines in between the different directions. I remember the road I was walking on went over I-15. Maybe I was on Flamingo Road? I remember cars honking their horns and people yelling “get out of the road!” I am sure there were a lot of insults shouted too.

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One car pulled over in the middle. I now think maybe there is a flat, median in the middle of the road? I think he parked his car there. He got out and tried to help me. I screamed at him. I kept accusing him, this total stranger trying to help me, of trying to rape me. He somehow calmed me down and got me into his car. He stayed outside to prove to me he wasn’t trying to drive me anywhere. He called the cops.

A female cop arrived. She gave me a ride the rest of the way to my hotel. She told me she has seen a lot of horrible things in Vegas. I kept saying I hated men. She told me not to trust men in Vegas.

I slept the whole next day. My flight was very late at night. I kept extending my check out time and paying extra. I told the front desk I was ill and I needed more rest.

A few days later, I got a phone call from that man who saved me. I think his name was Alex. To whoever he was, thanks.

And thank gods I did not walk to the edge of that road and jump over onto I-15.

Drunk sex with a stranger. Drunk and annoying strangers. Drunk show I don’t remember. Drunk and dangerous situation in an apartment. Drunk dropping money. And drunk deathwalk. 6 regretful drunk mistakes all in three days.

My Future’s So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades (rose tinted glasses that is)

Posted in 30-60 days by

I am feeling good and feeling positive. I started plotting out my awards for each 10 day milestone. Thinking of that coconut cake for 50 days was a huge help. Someone could have offered me a glass of expensive champagne and said there was finally peace in the middle east and I would have declined it and said “great, but no thanks cause I really want that cake!”

For 60 days, I am planning a facial. Hopefully my skin will start showing some booze free improvements.

For 70 days, I will get my legs waxed. (Wait, did I say rewards or punishment?) I have not shaved since I stopped drinking. A benefit of being single. But spring and short season is coming.

For 80 days, an 80s New Wave party! I am a little worried about handling that one. It is a Duran Duran theme and I know the DJs. I think it will be a reward and a test of temptation. But I know I can dance to New Wave sober.

For 90 days, I am going to see a Broadway show! orchestra seats!

For 100, I am going to plan a trip somewhere. I don’t know where yet. I actually work for 3 nights on days 100, 101, and 102. But the days after that… I want to fly somewhere. Soar to sobriety. Look to my future where each sober day is an award.
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Mistake #51- A quick one- There was a small club I used to frequent in 2003-2005. I used to go there for the New Wave parties I mentioned above. On Sundays, it was a rock and punk music night. And strippers. They had professional ones dance on a box in the middle of the dance floor and then invited anyone else to get up there as an amateur strippers. They even gave out awards for best stripper or aka “Slut of the Week.” I used to get wasted at this club. I would even go alone and  assume I would run into someone I knew or make a new friend. One night,  I am really thankful I ran into a friend. I don’t remember much but I woke up at home in my bed. Wearing my jeans and a pink, feather boa around my neck. No shirt.

I was confused until he messaged me online. “Get home okay?” I said yes and asked if he was at the club. He responded “LOL yes. You were awesome. You got up on the stripper box. You threw your shirt out in the crowd. Someone kept it.”

Um where did the feather boa come from? One of the other strippers gave it to me when I couldn’t find my shirt. My friend put me in a taxi after extracting my address from me.

Did I win Slut of the Week?

No.

Happy Sober Saint Patrick’s Day!

Posted in 30-60 days by

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This used to always be one of my favorite holidays. Right along with New Year’s Eve, Halloween, and my birthday. All big drinking days! I would work Easter, Mothers and Fathers Day, and Christmas if I could be off those other days. But even if I had to work, I would schedule an alternative day to celebrate. And get drunk.

I now hope to think of this day as a holiday to celebrate my Irish heritage. But without Guinness, Baileys, and Jamesons.

Mistake #50- I found my junior year prom date on MySpace. I haven’t seen him since I graduated high school 13 years before this. We were platonic friends when he went to my prom with me. I was a good girl back then. Now here we were both adults and living in the same area. He invited me out with his friends for St Patrick’s day.

I remember being so nervous meeting up with him. I was such a dork in high school. He was too. But I really wanted to make a good impression on him. I wanted him to see that I was no longer a dork. I wanted him to think I improved. I was now cool.

He stood outside the bar on his phone giving me directions. He thought I was coming from a different way down the street. He had his back turned towards me as I walked up and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and looked gorgeous. I thought of the ugly duckling story. He did not look like the nerdy, soccer player I used to know. He was now a handsome man. I was shaking when he hugged me. He asked if I was cold. I admitted that I was nervous. He said “then let’s get started drinking!”

He kept complimenting me. He told me I looked hot. I “filled out nice.” I blushed a lot. He said that according to my MySpace profile, I turned wild. The quiet girl who was on so many high school committees was now a party girl. There were a lot of photos of me chugging booze online. It was sort of my signature photo. Chugging a bottle of beer. Chugging a bottle of Champagne. Chugging a bottle of wine. Always a glass or cup in my hand. He said he wanted to see this party girl. I told him “no, you don’t want to see her.” He kept buying me shots.

His friends were all welcoming. Turns out, he was going through a divorce. His friends hated the wife. They wanted me to help him get his mind off of her. They kept buying me shots. My beers never neared empty because someone was always making sure I had a refill.

The night got blurry. The subway stopped running back to my house at some point. One of his friends invited me to stay at his place in the city. Prom Date also lived in the suburbs and since it was too late to drive, he would stay there too. I remember some blond girl that I got along with well. I think she worked for Planned Parenthood headquarters or something. I think she was dating the friend who invited us both to stay on his pull out bed in the living room. I remember her saying “use condoms!” and put some in my hand. I remember making out with Prom Date on the couchbed. I had my shirt off. And then he stopped and said he couldn’t go through with this. He was still in love with his wife. I started crying.

He drove me home instead. I cried the whole way. I kept saying “sorry. I’m so sorry.” I am not sure what I was sorry for? Things never took off for us. I didn’t see him again until the summer and he was either still not over his wife or was just not into a drunk, party girl.

Big Heart

Posted in 30-60 days by

I went to my first AA meeting since I got my 30 day chip. It was a 7am meeting and I went after I stayed up all night finishing Kristen Johnston’s Guts, watching a movie, doing laundry, and reading blogs. I felt great when I got to the meeting. The mood went down by the end.

I hate going there and leaving feeling guilty for the times I don’t go. I heard: “When I first got sober the only way I made it was to go to daily meetings.” “Work  the steps or this program won’t work.” “If you miss a meeting, you will want to drink.” “You need a sponsor to stay sober.”

Again, I got a list of names and phone numbers of the women in the meeting. Again, I thought “I am not gonna call any of them.” I would rather get to know someone before I would want to think of calling them. I understand the point behind giving out the numbers and I appreciate it. But I honestly would rather call my close friend in Virginia if I feel the need to drink. She knows I have gone sober. She told me to call anytime. Day or night. I guess that makes me lucky to know I have someone to call.

I could not follow most of the people that spoke. It seemed like tangents. All I really understood was that I better go to a meeting or else. The only way is the AA way. I will relapse if I don’t follow their rules. I swear it makes me want to stay sober and NOT go to meetings just to prove that I can. Take THAT! I will show them.

Ok that is stubborn me thinking. I am also tired and about to go to bed.

The one thing I got out of this meeting was thinking about my health. There was one guy sitting across the room that was yellow. He looked jaundice. I kept looking up at his pale, golden skin and thought “liver damage.” And that got me thinking of my heart.

I used to get tested for tuberculosis every year for my job. A TB test is a little shot under the skin in the arm and then have it read a few days later. I had them done for years. Then in 2010, my test reading was positive. This means I was exposed to tuberculosis somewhere. My guess is on a chicken bus in Bolivia. Or anywhere else in South America. My tests will always read positive so instead I need to get chest xrays every so often.

The report from my first xray said no lung problems.YEA! But it then said the words “cardiomegaly.” Enlarged heart.The doctor did not seem concerned. I was. I did what most hypochondrics do and I googled the causes. On webMD I found:

  • Viral infection of the heart
  • Abnormal heart valve
  • Pregnancy, with enlarged heart developing around the time of delivery (peripartum cardiomyopathy)
  • Kidney disease requiring dialysis
  • Alcohol or cocaine abuse
  • HIV infection
  • Genetic and inherited conditions

I had no viral symptoms, no valve problems, no pregnancy, no kidney issues, no HIV, and no genetic or inherited condition. (Oh except I inherited alcoholism from my dad.)  Alcohol abuse must be the cause! Oh my god my heart is going to explode because I was a lush! I overworked one of the most important organs in my body with booze. I was going to have a heart attack at the age of 35. My then-boyfriend tried to reassure me I was going to be okay. It just meant I have a big heart because I was such a caring person. I remember screaming at him “You have no medical background so shut up!”

It did not stop me from drinking.

Next few xrays, no mention of cardiomegaly again. One did mention scoliosis. Maybe from passing out on barstools.

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Mistake # 45- I was at a club with my two good friends. The female (the one I mentioned above that said I can call whenever), was drunk and passing out in the club. Our male friend was our ride. He was always our ride because he did not drink. He was lucky to be born with a liver condition so he avoided alcohol. (Please read the sarcasm when I say he was lucky.) He told me it was time to go home.

I did not want to leave. I wanted to stay and party. Can’t he just put her in the truck and let her sleep? He did take her outside of the club and sat her on the curb next to his truck. He then came back in and demanded I leave. I was stubborn and refused. So he picked me up, threw me over his shoulders, and carried my drunk ass outside of the club and to his truck. He put me down while he fumbled with our other friend to get her in the truck. I RAN back inside the club. He later said I looked like Phoebe from the TV show Friends when she would run crazy-like to scare away muggers. He got our other friend in the truck and came back looking for me. He said he found me squatting behind a guy trying to hide. I told the guy “Don’t let him take me.” My friend said “fuck you then! Find your own ride home.” He left.

I partied. I danced. I drank. I managed to find a ride home. Once I got home, I must have felt guilty. So I drove to my friend’s apartment. I don’t really remember doing that. He said he opened the door and I stood there crying. “I am so sorry” I bawled. He had me come inside while I cried and cried about being such a shitty friend. Then I cried myself to sleep on his couch. He was so mad at me that night but forgave me the next day.

We aren’t talking anymore. I sort of blamed him for my second DUI. Maybe I will reach out to him to make amends one day. Just not ready yet.