I’ve made it 2 years without drinking! I think that deserves a trophy, even if it’s just an icon on Facebook (hmu if you wanna give me a real one.) Unfortunately, I’m only 4 months into full recovery, but that’s a lot, and 2 years without a drop of alcohol is something I didn’t think was possible 2 years ago. This whole thing was only supposed to last a month at most; I didn’t tell anyone I was going to try it because I was sure I’d only make it a few days and I’d let everyone down. I rationalized with myself saying “if I make it a whole month people will think I changed and will see I am in control!” Up until the day I quit, I still didn’t believe I had a problem.
I guess I never shared the story of why I ever even tried to clean up. It’s a mess so bear with me. One day while Phil was visiting I went on a drug binge, he didn’t realize how much I was doing because I was hiding it fairly well, but I was up for days in a pure mania. When I was crashing from it, I was coming down hard, I was drinking to attempt to alleviate the awful feeling, my emotions were all over the place, and I was venting every feeling I had to Phil. We started talking about our relationship, and after a little bit of drug-fueled nonsense I decided I was done with the BS of casual dating and just said it; I asked Phil if he wanted to get married. Much to my surprise (considering I was asking him this after being up for days and nonsensical on drugs) he said yes. I was taken aback, completely shocked that he actually wanted to marry me. I hugged him; I cried, then I took a step back and just thought “shit! I’m going to be someone’s wife someday!” [note: there’s a lot more to this story, and this is not how we got engaged] After that moment I just kept thinking about how much life would (or should) change if I was going to get married.
A few days later Phil left, and I just sat and thought a lot. I thought of how selfish I was towards him while he was going through something unimaginably hard, I made him listen to me yell and cry and nearly overdose for hours. How many times I had been hurtful because of my substance abuse. How many times I lied to him and everyone I knew. I realized I couldn’t hurt someone I loved like that, and I’d never be a good life partner like that. I realized hard drugs were a problem (but my addict brain still didn’t think I had a problem) and slowly tapered myself off of them over the course of ~a month, because I came down slowly the withdrawal from the drugs wasn’t so bad, at least not compared to what I was about to face. Once I was a little more clear headed the voices of my friends telling me I drank too much kept ringing in my ears. I thought of all the times I had embarrassed or hurt them while drunk, the countless lies I told, how I hid how much I was drinking, all the risky and embarrassing things I did while drunk (hooking up with a guy in a concert venue’s laundry room … multiple times … with different people, is not very becoming) I still didn’t think I had a problem, but I wanted to prove them wrong. So I stopped, I knew if I did that whole “pick a day in the future and quit then” I’d find an excuse not to. So one day I just stopped. Still thinking I didn’t have a problem, I didn’t go to detox, that was a mistake (pro tip: if you even think it might be slightly possible you have a problem, go to detox or you’ll suffer what I did.)
Thankfully (?) I knew what medications they gave in detox to prevent seizures and discomfort, took a fuckload of them and hoped for the best (I won’t say which ones, because do not do this, withdrawing from them is a nightmare of its own.) It started off slow, shaking, general feeling of anxiety, sweating, insomnia. I thought to myself “I just came off of hard drugs, I can handle this.” Then it hit me like a freight train; I was so sick I can’t even describe it. It wasn’t like opiates where you pretty much sleep on your bathroom floor for a few days, and it’s over. This was sneaky; I’d feel better for a few hours, think it was finally over, think I could go out or work, and then have it all hit me again. I was on edge, I was tired, I was depressed, I was having hallucinations, I couldn’t think clearly, and on and on.
When the month was over I felt so drained, but some part of me said “look! People think it’s awesome you made it 1 month, try for 2 months!” so I did, the symptoms didn’t go away, I have no idea how I functioned. By the end of February, I knew if I ever drank again I would never stop. So I kept going, I was sick every single day for 6 months and still having symptoms at 9 months, I still shake to this day. (if you have a problem and this scares you, this is why you go to detox; because I didn’t and abused medications I gave myself other dependencies and “protracted withdrawal”; symptoms this bad rarely last anywhere near this long, it’s usually is 2 weeks max.)
Those 9 months were hell, I was afraid it would never end, but all I could think about was how I needed to treat my loved ones better, how I couldn’t be a good wife like this, how I couldn’t be a real friend like this. I have hopes and dreams for my future with Phil, some of which are very personal, and I can’t be abusing substances to achieve those dreams.
The pain I suffered is something I never want to experience again, but moreover, I never want to inflict the pain I caused myself and others due to my drinking. January 2nd, 2017 was my first day without alcohol.
(It was also the day I thought I became totally sober, but that was far from true, but that’s another story)
