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.