Monday 24 February 2014

Round 2, Day 49: I love being here. Get me out of here.

This being sober is a strange business. I feel better overall. My skin is clearer. My eyes are clearer. I know I am emotionally starting to be more in tune with real life. My foggy thinking is getting a lot better. I don't want to go back to drinking again, because I know there's nothing there for me except oscillating between oblivion and pain, and I would much rather figure out how to live without having to numb myself out of any meaningful existence. (Does that all sound like I'm coughing up a big recovery-induced hairball? I don't know. It's true though, no matter what it sounds like.)

But last night, oh my god last night, I wanted to go to the wine store and buy a bottle of Joie Rose and drink it, and then go back and buy some red wine and drink that, too. Any thought of not wanting to be numb was, at that point, sheer nonsense. I was one giant prickly mess of "Get me out of here!" I can't tell you where "here" is, but I wanted to check out of it into fuzzy oblivion, pronto!

I didn't go to the store, or drink any booze. I pretty much knew I wouldn't. But it was very, very hard to ride it out. I told my partner that I was having a hard time of it and didn't want to talk for a bit, then sat on the couch and read blogs and wrote a bit until I got a grip. The moment (OK it was an hour) passed, and I felt a bit better later. Quiet and a bit knocked out, but better.

How is it that one person can, at the same time, know that drinking is a really bad idea, and really really really want to drink? This addiction thing really plays with your head, doesn't it? Because I know, of course, people are all riddled with contradictions. But those contradictions are so much more comfortable when they are happening to someone else, or when you see them from a safe distance, looking back at your formerly unenlightened self, as opposed to when they are happening to you right now. Last night, sitting on the couch, I felt like I was two people at once. I was me, the person who has committed to the not drinking plan, and who sees that it's a better way. And I was also me, the person who has, for years and years, drank, so much so often that it had become part of the fabric of who I am. I wanted to find a way out of living through the moments of painful contradiction, maybe not be either of the people for a while, but of course, there is no way out. Maybe it sounds like I'm over-dramatising here, but it doesn't feel that way.

So all that stuff I was saying a few days ago about not drinking not being that hard? Sure, that's true, except when it's freaking hard! Drinking won't solve anything, and I'm not going to do it. It won't get me out of anything, unless consciousness is what I'm trying to avoid, and if that's what I want to be clear of, then I can just go to sleep. But I can't stay asleep.

Not a lot of wisdom or answers here today. I am wondering whether I should consider going to an AA meeting. I went twice early last year, and I had what is probably a predictable reaction. The first week I thought, "I love these people!" The second week I was appalled, and I thought, "I have nothing in common with these people." Neither is true, of course. I would probably like some and have trouble with some, and I would have something more or less in common with all of them, but I wasn't ready to call alcohol the problem it really was at that time. Not yet. Now I know it is one. I would still like an easy way out, one where I can just put the drinking behind me and smile my way into a whole new better way of being me. The fact that reality doesn't work that way doesn't stop me from wanting it sometimes, any more than the fact that drinking really sucks doesn't stop me from wanting that sometimes, too.

Anyway, here I am, 49 days sober and holding on, feeling pretty darn good about that in the big picture if a bit uncomfortable in some of the moments. I'm not going anywhere. I won't drink, and I will figure this out.  For now I'll just sip my fizzy water and stare out the window at the snow that's been piling up all day. It's pretty. And I'm not out in it. I'm grateful for that, and that's a good moment to be in.

Thanks for reading. Peace and joy to us all.

8 comments:

  1. Hate those sucky woe-is-me-give-me-loads-of-wine evenings. Hate them. They are few and far between now, but I remember them well. Sounds like you did a great job getting through it. Sometimes sober sucks (not very often but sometimes early on it really does suck).. but you know that.. Love that image of your clear skin and sparkly eyes! Shine on you crazy diamond xxxx

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    1. Thanks, Mrs D! Sucky woe indeed, but you're right, that crap passes. Bring on the shiny future! Thanks for reading and for your lovely supportive comments! xoxo

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  2. Hey Thirsty, I'm seeing a picture of another sober angel with clear skin and shiny eyes and snow out the window! Do you think that those times when we really really really want to drink are really just times we want some relief -- from something that's making us suffer. Maybe we only think we want to drink, because that's the only relief we've known so far? I still have those feelings, not as overpowering now, and not as often. But they do show up fairly regularly, and yell "Give me a drink dammit!" When I put it under my inner microscope, it's always the same scenario: "Give me a break from these feelings / this boredom / this lonliness... " I don't have much in the way of substitutes. I just make myself a cup of tea and sit quietly and kind of watch over myself until it passes. Or grab my journal and write like a mad woman, whatever comes out the end of the pen. I think what I'm trying to say is that drinking has been a temporary cure for all sorts of suffering, and when we take it away, the suffering continues and we need to be with it and accept it, and try not to be freaked out by it. Another piece of brave work we're all doing here. Hang in there. XX

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    1. Hi Sue. That sober angel is cropping up everywhere now! Thanks again for your close reading and always helpful comments. You're right about the relief. I know (I know I know) but it's so easy to forget that there is no "out of here" to go, and here is a mostly pretty fine place to be, except when here is a big emotional overwhelm. And when that's over, it's so easy to forget how bloody uncomfortable it can really be. But drink=break is just bad thinking, and I can see past it even if I can't feel past it yet. I sat out the worst of it, but I really did want/need a break, so I read two novels in two days instead, which might still be escapist but it's a better way to do it. I'm to hear glad it gets easier, though. I appreciate what you say about not getting too freaked out. I'm trying to make sure I record the addict-thinking without descending into it, so that in a month I can't start pretending to myself that this whole quit drink game has just been nuclear madness. Once again, your moral support is much appreciated. I'm so glad you generously keep sharing your wisdom here with me. xoxo

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  3. LOVED the hairball image! :o) :o) :o)
    Top post as always and congrats on SEVEN WEEKS! Big day tomorrow :o)
    G x

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    1. Thanks, Gray. Yes, 50 days today, hooray for that! I'm glad you like that hairball, though it sure ain't pretty. Thanks heaps for reading and commenting. Take care. xo

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  4. "Does that all sound like I'm coughing up a big recovery-induced hairball?"

    Best. Sentence. Ever.

    Bravo on making it through a hairy night!

    Sherry

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    1. Thanks, Sherry! I'm still watching my step, because there could be more of those lying around. I'm really glad you're here, reading and chiming in! xo

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