Hope

Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.

For anyone out there this Christmas season fighting despair and condemnation, there is a light in the darkness. And his name is Jesus. 

Call out to Him.


I couldn't have made it this far without Him. And I know He wants to help you too.


Merry Christmas

I Know I'm Fixated on Numbers

I received my 90 day chip at AA this past Monday night.

All the guys kept telling me how proud they are of me. I wish you could see the scene. I'm the only woman in a group of guys who, for the most part, were hard drinkers. HARD.

Some of these guys have seen difficult times. I'm convinced several of them lead motorcycle gangs.

But they all show up, week after week, to support each other. Because that's how you have to do it. Day by day, week by week.

Now I can say I haven't had any alcohol for three months. Do I still think about it? Yes. But not like I did. Most mornings now I wake up and get my coffee and get ready for work and I don't remember that three months ago I was waking up in the morning filled with condemnation and guilt.

It's gone. And THAT is a wonderful feeling.

75 Days and Counting

It's been 75 days since I had any alcohol.

It feels SO much longer. The first AA meeting I went to feels like it had to have been last year, not almost 3 months ago.

I'm starting to tell some of my friends about it it. That's key.

Keeping the problem hidden makes it more difficult to overcome. But bringing it out into the light breaks the backbone of it.

That makes it sound as if it is an animal or a living thing. And in a way it is. It's something that has gotten away from you, that's spiraled out of control. Something that's escaped from its cage.

By telling people about it you are decreasing the chances that you'll fall back into it.

Here's a link to a website where you can take an anonymous test to determine if you might have a problem. But I'm going to warn you. If you think you need to take the test, then you probably already have a problem. I did something like this at least twice in the last two years. I think I knew but I wasn't ready to admit it yet.

www.AlcoholScreening.org.

Do I still think about drinking? Yes. Nearly every night. But right now that compulsion isn't there. If we had alcohol in the house, it would be difficult. But we don't.

If I wanted to drink now I would have to be sneaky about it. And I don't want to do that. The Lord has gotten me through so far.

Do I still have fantasies about being able to drink again and control my drinking? Yes. I've already mentioned that all the AA guys have told me this is every alcoholics dream. But it can't be done. Nope.

So I'm continuing on this journey of learning to live without alcohol.

Sixty Days without Alcohol

A few months ago, I would have said that this is my kind of wineglass.

As of today, I have lived sixty days without alcohol. It feels like six years. Just two months ago, I was drinking wine every night and sometimes vodka, too. Towards the end, I was pouring very generous glasses of wine and this glass would have been perfect.

Although I doubt I could have hidden it from my husband or my family. Because at the end, that's what you're doing. Hiding how much you're drinking. Making sure there's enough alcohol in the house to last the weekend.

I live in a county that has "Blue" laws. You can't buy any type of alcohol on Sunday. So that means on Friday or Saturday you have to be sure and get your supply. If you do this then it probably means you have a problem, too.

This was one of the little things that nagged at me. That tiny thought at the back of my mind that kept intruding and ruining some of the pleasure of drinking.

Do I miss it? Yes, I have to say that I do miss it and think about it. Especially in the evening. It would be so lovely to settle down with a roaring fire and a glass of wine. That's when I have to remind myself that it would never be one glass. It would be four or five. Even though I know alcohol is poison for me, I still want it. That's sick, isn't it?

That's where taking one day at a time comes into play.

First Drinks in College

I didn't start drinking until I went away to college at the age of seventeen. The drinking age in New York state was eighteen but it didn't stop me. I turned 18 three weeks after I started my freshmen year.

At that time, four years of college seemed like an eon (translation: graduation was a long ways away). I skipped most of my classes and went full swing into party mode.

I was the oldest of nine children from a good Catholic family. Naturally I couldn't wait to be "on my own" at college. Several of the people who were roommates and friends I'm still in touch with today. And some of them have had their own problems with alcohol. And drugs. We were from the "Make love not war" generation.

I was too innocent and too scared to latch onto the the "free love" mantra but I loved alcohol. For at least six months, I had the proverbial "hollow leg". I could drink a lot and never have a hangover. Alcohol made me feel happy. And silly. And less uptight.

I went home for Christmas break and my report card came in. My cumulative average was 1.6. Yeah. My surprised and enraged father just about knocked me into the middle of next week. I went back to college knowing I had to buckle down and stop partying. Well, at least buckle down.

And I did. The next semester I had a cum of 3.0. But the partying didn't stop. I was still having a love affair with alcohol.

Attack!

I've been doing fairly well on this journey of learning to live without alcohol.

I've told two of my sisters. I've told one of my two close friends. And yesterday I sent an email to the second friend to tell her. I wasn't worried abut their reaction. They were all supportive.

Tomorrow will be 7 weeks without alcohol. One week ago, I had a terrible episode.

I was at a writer's conference. A Christian Writer's conference. I haven't mentioned up to now the fact that I'm a Christian. But I am. That probably made everything worse, because along with all the condemnation I had been feeling, the thought that I was disappointing the Lord, who gave everything for me, worsened the distress.

Anyway, I went to this conference. There were almost 700 writers there. About ten percent were published, and everyone else was, as we writers say, pre-published. I'd been looking forward to this conference for months. I was a finalist in the Historical category and there was to be an Awards dinner on Saturday night.

I didn't have a roommate at the conference so I had the hotel room to myself. The thought occurred to me  several times that I could drink and no one would have to know. Except me, of course. And the Lord.

But I pushed that thought away. And went about my business. On Thursday night I had a stronger temptation to have a drink. But I didn't.

And then, Friday night, while I was in the middle of a session with about 25 other writers, listening to a publishing house rep tell us what they were looking for, I began to have some terrible overwhelming thoughts.

 I'm never going to make it. Look at all these people here who want the same thing. It's impossible. I'm not good enough.


I realized I had been staring at this woman's face and not hearing a word she had said for the last 15 minutes. All I could think of was going to the bar and getting a drink. The compulsion was so strong I could barely think about anything else. All I wanted to do was curl up in my room alone and drink a bottle of wine.

Somehow I stumbled to the Prayer Room. This is a little meeting room with low lighting and chairs, and people volunteering their time. There was one woman there, and I blurted out my story to her, including the temptation to drink. She prayed over me while tears ran down my face. Then I went to my room and my husband called - all chipper, expecting a good report. Instead he got a miserable, crying wife who barely knew which end was up. He prayed for me, too.

Then I took a long shower and went to bed. The next morning I woke up feeling 100% better. In that instant I knew it had been a spiritual attack of Satan, who had come at me with both barrels. Somehow, instead of running to alcohol, I ran to the Lord. And I was OK. Thank you, dear Lord.

What I realized from this episode was how strong the compulsion was to relieve my stress and anxiety with a bottle of wine. Again, it confirmed to me the fact that alcohol had become a lot more than a nice way to relax in the evening.

I'm starting to wonder if I should possibly share these thoughts with others who might be struggling the way I was and have been.

I'm going to think a little more about that.

Working Step One

Five weeks and one day without alcohol. Seems much longer.

I have my "big blue book" as they call it. The AA bible, basically. And I have the book on the 12 Steps , too.

I'm still on Step One. Admitting that I am powerless over alcohol.

The last two weeks have been difficult. I am working at coming to grips with the understanding that I cannot drink alcohol.

And it's hard because I still want to. I find myself at times thinking about having a glass or two of wine. I'm still mourning the loss of fun times such as going wine tasting on the wine trail near my home.

All the guys at AA tell me that it's every alcoholics dream to find a way to control their drinking.

But we can't. And that's why we can't drink. It's black and white - no gray area at all. And that's what I find so hard. It's all or nothing.

It's only been five weeks. I hope that in a year I will feel different. The truth in that old AA proverb is my lifeline: One day at a time. That's what is getting me through.

I'm taking one day at a time.

My First AA Meeting

I haven't had a drink since August 14th. Next Monday I will get my one month chip at AA.

I went to my first AA meeting on Monday, August 15. I wrote about the two days that preceded this in my last post.

I almost didn't go in to the meeting. I went alone, and sat in my car for a while. The only people who went in looked like Skid Row derelicts and motorcycle gang members.

If it was going to be all old men and skid row people then I wasn't going to go in. Except I knew I had to.

I waited until I saw a woman go in. Then I dragged myself out of the car and approached the door. The meeting was in an old hole-in-the-wall type building, in a small room with old chairs placed around its perimeter.

There were a lot of people in the room. Apparently I had chosen to go on the night one of the regulars was going to tell his story of being sober for 4 years I didn't know anyone and no one knew me. They welcomed me. A few spoke to me.

But my heart was pounding so hard I could barely speak. The meeting lasted an hour and when that hour was over, I really could have used a drink.

But I didn't have one. And I went back the next week. I've been to 3 meetings so far. I've learned a lot already. One of the funniest and also the most frustrating thing I've learned is that "the dream of every alcoholic is to control their drinking".

In other words, alcoholics dream of drinking and controlling it. But for an alcoholic, that just doesn't work. The first step is admitting that you are powerless over alcohol.

I'm still at Step One.

Off the Wagon Redux X 2

I haven't blogged since August 13. Because I fell off the wagon again. Even worse.

I guess after going without alcohol for three weeks I managed to convince myself that I could have a little drink or two.

So on a Saturday night, we bought a pre-made mojito mix. I had two. That should have been enough.

But then I snuck into the cabinet where I knew there was some leftover whiskey. And I had another drink. Except that it was really two drinks, at the minimum, because I do a "generous" pour.

Even that wouldn't have been too bad. But then the next night I did it again. Two big drinks with generous pours. And then I got caught. Lots of condemnation (from myself) coming down on me.

So the next night I went to my first AA meeting. That's a story for next time.

Fell Off the Wagon

I fell off the wagon twice in the last week. Not too bad. My husband doesn't know.

We had some leftover liquor in a cabinet. And one day last week, after everyone had gone to bed, I made myself two drinks.

Doesn't sound like I went overboard, does it? Except that when I make a drink, it's at least a double. So that was four.

I enjoyed them. But I didn't enjoy the sense of guilt I felt, and the sneaking around I had to do to get them. And a couple days ago, I had one double in the afternoon.

The good news is that last night I was really wanting that drink. And somehow, I managed to say no to myself. I really don't want to go back there. But I sure miss drinking.

I haven't scheduled an appointment with an alcohol counselor. I really need to do that. Soon.

Two Weeks & Counting

I've been sober for two weeks tonight. Fourteen days without alcohol.

I'm doing OK. Haven't gotten to an AA meeting yet. I know I need to do that. I also need to schedule some time with a drug & alcohol counselor.

Or do I?

I'm still having cravings in the evening. I feel a little sorry for myself that I can't have a glass of wine.

But then I remember that I can't have a glass of wine because I can't have just ONE. One leads to two, and then three. And more.

I have to remind myself of this. I've had a few thoughts this week that, since I'm doing so good not drinking, maybe that means that eventually I can have that glass of wine.

I know this is faulty thinking. I have to replace that thought with something else. I'm trying. I'm doing it. So far.

Sober for 10 days

As of today I haven't had a drink for ten days.

But I've thought about it.

I was alone last Friday night and we did have some alcohol in the cupboard. Half a bottle of Peach Tea Vodka.

I opened the bottle and took a sniff. It smelled good. Real good.

But I didn't drink it. I went back a second time just to smell it again later, though.

But I left it alone. I've been thinking a lot about giving up alcohol and what it means. No more wine tasting. No more buying extra sharp cheddar to go with my sweet wine. No mojitos with fresh mint in the summer time.

But I know I have to stop thinking about it that way. Because it's not just about giving up alcohol. It's realizing that I used alcohol to replace other things in my life. Because I allowed alcohol to usurp the place that belongs to God. My husband. My family. My writing.

It sapped my creativity and blunted my emotions. I know that, yet I'd still love to have a mojito right now.

It's going to be a long journey.

Independence Day

4th of July 2011

I woke up feeling like crap that day. Drank too much again the night before. Felt so condemned and discouraged.

I tried to read my Bible but I couldn't concentrate through the hangover haze. This is what's been happening for at least the last year. In the morning I decide I won't have anything to drink that night. And then 6 or 7 pm rolls around and that motivation disappears like morning mist burned away by the sun.

Somehow I found the courage to tell my husband that morning. Really tell him. Not just "I think maybe I drink a little too much."

I said flat out "I'm an alcoholic." I didn't cry or sob. I said "I have to stop drinking. And I don't know if I can."

My husband supports me. He wants to help me. He offered solutions. But I know he really doesn't understand what's going on with me. How can he? He can have a drink or two and stop.

I can't stop.

I have one or two. And then after he goes to bed I have a couple more. I lose count. And then I stumble to bed in a drunken stupor. I get up early  the next morning and go to work. And no one knows.

Isn't it funny that on Independence Day I declared my dependence on alcohol?

I Didn't Plan to Become an Alcoholic

Alcoholism runs in my family. My father had a problem, and so did his father, my grandfather, who drank himself to death after the death of his beloved wife.

My grandfather had two siblings, fraternal twins who both died alcoholics.

I have two sisters who have been through rehab. And there are a couple of other siblings who might need it, too.

My Irish heritage should have warned me. But I never thought it would happen to me.

I'm writing this blog for myself. I hope putting my thoughts down might help me look back and come to grips about how I got to this place.

Because I have to learn to live without alcohol.