On: Being Pissed Off

I can only speak for myself. And I am an alcoholic. So I don't know if this applies to other people, or "normies" as I like to call them. But for me, emotions can be incredibly short lived. 


This morning when I posted at 8 a.m. I was quite content, minus the fact that it was 8 a.m. I am not a morning person. Now, at 11:45, I am pretty pissed off. 


Well, to be honest, I'm not even sure if I'm pissed off. But I am neither happy nor content. To the extent that I felt the need to write this from the office in the middle of the work day. 


I'm tired, cranky, annoyed, frustrated. At least I think those are some of the emotions I'm feeling right now. But like most good alcoholics I have some issues identifying and naming my emotions. They process as "good" or "bad" and that's about as far as I get. So right now I am feeling a whole lot of "bad".


I don't want to drink. But I would love to escape. I want to sleep for hours. And eat trash food like french fries and ice cream. You will note that french fries and ice cream are a recurring theme in my life. They are my drink and drug. Along with sleep. I absolutely binge eat and sleep excessively as a way to cope with my negative emotions. They are my methods of acting out in sobriety. And I am so vain that I am caught between giving myself a break by letting myself eat to contentment and panicking that I will gain a lot of weight in sobriety. Because I've seen it happen to a lot of people. Men and women both. And, in my twisted mind, the only thing worse than being sober is being sober and fat. 


I don't know what set me off this morning. I'm upset over the boy. I'm disappointed by the ease with which he let me walk out of his life. I have convinced myself that I know exactly what he is thinking and feeling and it's all negative. And I am taking that negative perception and applying it to my own view of myself and concluding that I suck, I'm not worth a dime and I can't do better. If any of you readers doubted just how emotionally sick I am, this post should serve as proof that I'm as crazy as they come. 


I believe that whomever is watching down on me from above has my best interest at heart. I believe that everything, everything, happens for a reason. I believe that my higher power does for me what I cannot do for myself. But golly darn it (that is the PG version of the expletive filled rant that just ran through my mind) I cannot stand not having what I want when I want it. It is positively maddening. 


So, as I near the end of this post and the beginning of our staff meeting, I realize that I have come to no conclusions since I began writing this post. I haven't had an epiphany and I don't feel much better. All I can do is sit with this crap and wait for it to pass. And maybe indulge in those french fries I can't stop thinking about. And give myself a break. It would probably also be a good idea to turn off my cellphone for the time being, until I am on a more stable emotional plane. 

Day 22

Hi, my name is ____, and I'm an alcoholic.


It's been a while since I last posted, huh? Interesting how I neglect my sobriety when my life starts to get better.


What's been going on with me? Well, my new job is taking off so I've been working a lot. I have been interviewing for a side job (this is an expensive city) so that's been taking up my time. And I've been attempting to distract myself with The Boy so that's why I didn't post last weekend.


But I ended things with The Boy last night so that should free up plenty of time to write. And reflect. And sit with myself instead of ducking for cover every time I feel uncomfortable or bored or lonely (or hungry, angry and tired). Not only was I giving far more than I was getting in the pseudo-relationship, I was getting too emotional over it. And now is not the time to introduce any additional emotions into the cyclone of feelings that is constantly whirling through me. It's time to bite the bullet and work on me. Perhaps get a sponsor and start working those dreaded steps.


For the most part, I am happy again. My life is getting bigger and better. But I'm also a little bit scared because it's happening very fast. And when my life gets better and I don't take the time to express gratitude and remember how broken I was on Day 1 the likely hood of me drinking again is exponentially higher. I have been in plenty of situations where alcohol (and drugs) were being served, and naturally the fact that I refuse a drink (or drug) encourages people to be more persistent in their gifting of contraband (why didn't it ever work like that when I was active?). But I have stuck to my sobriety and said "no" every single time. In fact, while the thought of a drink crosses my mind at least once a day, I seem to have lost the obsession. The thought comes, I acknowledge it, and it passes. I don't sit and fantasize and wish and moan and groan over the drink any more. I suppose I "move a muscle, change a thought." And what a blessing it has been. Because in my past attempts at sobriety I have cried over the thought of a drink. I have spent hours mourning the loss of alcohol in my life. I have found myself working through the stages of grief as though I lost a parent or my best friend. Kind of sick if you think about it, right?


But this time that isn't happening. I choose life over alcohol. So why, you ask, does that make me nervous? Because alcoholism is a sneaky f*cker. And it's when I least expect it that I end up with a drink in my hand and, eventually, my face on the bar.


So my solution will be to get my behind to more meetings. Yes, I must be brutally honest and admit that I haven't been to a meeting in over a week. Don't follow my example. I am treading dangerous waters. While I know a number of people who got sober outside of the rooms of AA and are happy, joyous and free I am fully aware that this alcoholic needs the support of the program.
*Note: One of my biggest pet peeves about AA is that some members preach that AA is the only way. And non-AA's are dry drunks. I think this is a load of bologna. I will dedicate an entire post to why I believe that there is more than one way to get and stay sober. 


So readers and friends, in conclusion you should be hearing a lot more from me. It is time to trim the fat out of my life, nix the distractions, and get physically and emotionally sober.


Oh, and happy 420 for those who used to (or still do) celebrate. It almost slipped my mind.


And my final thought for the day: keep your eyes peeled for blessings. They are everywhere if you choose to see them. And they might give you that little nudge of hope and strength that you need to stay sober for just one more day.

Day 17

Hi, my name is _____, and I'm an alcoholic.


I'm at work. My boss hasn't shown up yet. So I thought I'd take two minutes to say that, though I haven't written in about a week, I am still sober. Just busy. Very very busy. Which is a blessing for an alcoholic like me. It gives me less time to think. But the weekend is upon us so I'm sure I will be showering Blogger with late night posts while I listen to weekend debauchery from my bedroom window.


Stay sober, drunks! We can do it together.


Until later....

Day 12

Hi, my name is ____, and I'm an alcoholic.


And I'm sleepy and serene so this post will be short.


I have a sister who is 6 years older than me and I absolutely adore her. I always have. I think she is phenomenal. Smart, funny, beautiful, elegant; everything I hope to be. And she is my best friend.


Her and I had a tough year. We spent a lot of it not speaking. Because when I am active in my addiction we can't maintain our relationship. And it is a blessing.


There was a period during which she thought that, if I was going to drink, I could at least do it with her because she could keep me safe and supervise. But I soon became a liability and she spent many a night cleaning vomit out of her car while I slept off my drunk. Her anger mounted and my self-centerdness grew and we started to fight. And then stopped talking all together. And it sucked.


It's not as if she didn't want to help or support me, but she was tired of babysitting her 22 year old sister. And she was enabling me.


In the 12 days that I have been sober I have spent time with her at least 4 times and we speak and/or text about every other day. It's wonderful. I ask her how she is doing. I offer her advice. I play a supporting role in her hectic life. And nothing makes me happier. I always said that I would do anything for my sister. I'd give her a lung if she needed it. But what I didn't realize was that all I had to do, all she ever wanted from me, was to put down the drink.


So, the reason I am writing about this tonight is not only because I am completely overwhelmed with gratitude for her, but because when the thought of drinking crosses my mind I think of her. I think of how blessed I am to have a sister. No one will ever love me as much as she does. No one will ever show up unconditionally like she will. I will never be able to trust anyone as much as I can trust her. She is my most loyal confidant. She knows all of my deepest secrets. And, no matter what happens, she looks at me without judgement or disgust. Wow.


While she might not be able to lift my alcohol obsession, the mere thought of her helps me fight it. When I want to drink I ask myself if it's worth losing my sister over. And the answer is no. The answer will always be no.


So, my fellow drunks, the question for you is: who is that person in your life? Who isn't worth losing? Or, if you want to phrase it differently, if X person walked out of your life would you want to drink?

On: The Boy...

I can't sleep, which isn't too alarming because it's barely midnight. But I also can't sit with my racing thoughts. And I finished the ice cream. So that means I can either read or write. And I spent the past 90 minutes reading so I suppose I'll write again. About a boy. The boy.


I met someone before I stopped drinking. In fact, I met him while I was drinking. Dirty Grey Goose martinis to be exact. Oh, how I love a dirty grey goose martini. Yes, love is in the present tense. I still fantasize about them. The thought alone makes my mouth water. I can't even look at olives without thinking about a nice chilled martini. But I digress. 


I met someone while I was sitting in a hotel lobby drinking dirty Grey Goose martinis and he proceeded to whisk me away on a whirlwind romance. But the details of that shall remain secret for the time being. That story alone is a week's worth of posts. 


So anyway, he whisked me away but now I am left, as I frequently say, wanting more. 


He is sober. For all intents and purposes we will say he has been sober for 10 years. And he is fantastic. Brilliant, sexy, funny. Just delightful. But he is also 12 years my senior and doesn't want a girlfriend. And while I don't necessarily want a boyfriend, I want more than what he is giving me right now. He travels a lot, which I can deal with, but when he is in New York he also decided when we get to see each other. It's not one of those "sometimes I request your presence, sometimes you request my presence and we're both happy at the end of the day" situations. It's more of a "he calls all the shots and I cross my fingers and hope he has time for me today" type of thing. Which sounds kind of pathetic, but at the same time I found it slightly thrilling in the beginning. 


I'm used to guys fawning over me. I'm used to them being at my beck and call and bending over backward to make me happy. And I liked the fact that he wouldn't do that. Because with all of the fussing and fawning comes enabling. The majority of the men I have dated in the past would ignore my alcoholism because they would rather have me drunk, belligerent and lying next to them in bed than have to watch me walk away because I chose the drink over them. Which I did every single time. And it was unhealthy. I liked that I had to work for this guy's attention. I liked that he called me on my sh*t and demanded more of me. In fact, he was a big catalyst in my return to the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous. And for that I am grateful. However, I am currently feeling unfulfilled. And pathetic. 


Dating in the first year of sobriety is certainly a point of contention in the rooms. Some say wait a year, others say wait until you've gone through all 12 steps. I don't know if there is a right or wrong way to approach dating in sobriety, but I do know that what I am doing probably isn't a great idea. 


Guys have led me to drink countless times. I will get sober for one and when he doesn't give me what I want I'll say f*ck it and drink. I'll meet someone while I'm sober and when he doesn't give me what I want I'll say f*ck it and drink. Long story short, I am self will run amuck and it leads me to drink every single time. Because I'm a princess and when I don't get what I want when I want it my world is coming to an end and I have to drink. So why, you ask, am I entertaining the emotional entanglement I find myself in right now? Because I'm a broken girl who wants to be loved into wholeness. And while I am fully aware that no man will ever be able to make me whole, there is nothing like lying next to the boy at the end of a long day. There is nothing like being kissed and coddled after I've spent the afternoon beating the crap out of myself. There is nothing like being called beautiful when I feel like a hideous train wreck of a woman. But all of these are temporary cures for much bigger issues. Just like alcohol and drugs. 


So I sit here, anxiety and frustration coursing through my veins, wondering what to do next. Do I tell him it's over? Do I say something more open ended like "I don't think this is going to work" in the hopes that he'll ask why and I'll be given an opportunity to voice my discontent? Or do I shut up, focus on my sobriety, and enjoy the moments we do spend together?


Admittedly, I am fearful. I don't want to lose him. I don't want him to walk out of my life. I don't want to think that our last moments together are already behind us. But I also don't want to feel like this. I don't want to be an after thought. I don't want to think about him more than he thinks about me. I don't want to wonder if I would've heard from him on any given day had I not been the one to initiate conversation. 


I kind of knew what I was getting into when I got involved with this guy but I was expecting more rewards for my patience and understanding. After all, my father used to work in finance. In that industry success comes with the sacrifice of time. I am all too familiar with being put on the back burner. Which is why I always vowed never to date "one of those finance guys."  


But, at the end of the day, here I am wondering what my next move should be. And I'm completely stuck. It's only a matter of time until my discontent becomes anger because I have zero ability to regulate my emotions. 


Someone in the meeting today said that it's completely acceptable to wait 24 hours to make any decisions or take any actions. But as I poise myself to take this advice I can't help but wonder if I was feeling the exact same way about the boy last night, 24 hours ago...

Day 11

Hi, my name is _____, and I'm an alcoholic.  

And I don't know how to start this post. 

I had something written out, which I started this morning, but then I had to scoot to a meeting. So not only did I lose my train of thought, my emotional and mental states have completely changed since 11 o'clock this morning. 

It's 7pm on Saturday night and I'm sitting on my bed in New York City coveting the final hour of sunlight on this lovely pre-spring day. And, of course, I am pondering how I will manage the span of time between now and sleep. Because sleep is safe. I can't get drunk while I'm sleeping.

I have been on my journey toward sobriety, in and out of the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous, for almost 4 years. I was introduced to the rooms when I was 18. Today I have 11 days. You do the math.

I can't tell you how often people in the rooms tell me how phenomenal it is that I am trying to get sober at such a young age. It's all praise and admiration, which is lovely, but I think they sometimes forget that I'm an alcoholic, too. And I will look for and hang onto any excuse to have a drink. So reminding me that I'm so young and I have so much life ahead of me and, my goodness, you can't even imagine getting sober at 22, doesn't really help the cause. Because what my alcoholic mind hears is "be young, go out, have a drink and come back in a few years. You'll be fine." I know better. I won't be fine. 

This post is probably going to be all over the place because, well, I'm all over the place. As I should be, I suppose. If I was a composed young woman I wouldn't need AA, right? 

Yesterday I spent a solid 12 hours in tears. Over everything and nothing at the same time. I don't know if I was crying over fears or frustrations or the simple fact that I haven't allowed myself to process any sort of emotions in such a long time that I needed a release. And I don't really care to figure it out. I let it happen, it wasn't pretty, and it's over now. Sort of. I must admit I've been nursing a mean emotional hangover all day. 

My body is physically drained, my mind is in overdrive and I'm seeking an escape. While I don't necessarily want to drink, I wouldn't mind phoning a male companion and/or smoking a pack of cigarettes to the face. But I won't indulge in cigarettes because I'm too broke to abuse the habit ($12+ in NYC for a pack!) and I can't delight in male attention unless the boy on the other end of the text message I just sent >insert guilty face here< chooses to entertain me and my insanity. So right now it's looking like it's just me, myself and I. What a horror. 

If I had ever been comfortable sitting in my own skin I might not have turned to the drink in the first place. But, again, this is something I don't have the emotional capacity to analyze. For now I'm just trying not to drink one hour at a time. Introspection is part of the recovery process, but I'll cross that bridge when I get there. And I am so not there. I can't even see the bridge on the horizon. 

I had a perfectly lovely afternoon. I went to a meeting, I lunched with my sister, I walked in the sunshine. But I still want more. I am desperate for more. More what, I don't know. But, like any good alcoholic, I want more more more more more until I am so full of more that I vomit. 

When I don't get more I start to get that unbearable feeling inside of me. Like the void is spreading from my heart to my stomach through my limbs and into my fingers and toes. It makes me want to Hulk out, rip off my skin, let out some sort of bellowing moan/scream/holler and bound through the streets. But that's not an option, so I just have to sit with it. And that is disappointing. Because sitting quietly through discomfort has never been on my To Do List. 

What is interesting is when that discomfort starts to manifest itself in other ways. Some examples? Well, there's the half pint of ice cream I tore through while I wrote the first half of this post. There are also the resentments I didn't know I had until this very moment and probably won't remember tomorrow. The desperation for a distraction of any sort. My increasingly heavy eye lids begging me to lie down, fall asleep and shut out the world even though I know I will wake up in an hour or two and be unable to sleep through the night as a result. Which means I will want to Hulk out at 3 a.m. when most sober women are asleep and I won't even be able to call someone who has more time than me to complain about my discomfort.  And, of course, there's the growing anger I feel toward the boy who hasn't responded to my text message. *Note: he has since responded to my text by telling me that he has "some poncey dinner party to attend tonight." I'll show him a f*cking poncey dinner party, that British bloke. Note to self: replace him with someone who gives me more attention. Even though I am completely aware that replacing booze with boys is incredibly unhealthy. Baby steps, right?

So it looks like I'll be sitting through the sh*t. Waiting for it to pass. But before I turn on trashy t.v. and polish off that pint of ice cream maybe I'll sign up for a knitting class. After  all, they say to pick up new hobbies in early sobriety. And knitting will keep my hands and mind busy. And if I didn't already feel as though I was growing up too fast by committing to AA and sobriety, why not ice the "I feel so much older than my peers" cake with a pair of knitting needles? Fabulous.