Do dogs have regrets? I think not. I don’t really either. Here’s my story. I’m telling you because my dog doesn’t listen to me.
lower case r’s: rabbit, ride, road, run, rock, red.
Capital R’s: Responsibility, Recluse, Regret, Release, Repetition, Represent.
Recover, Relapse, Recover.
I’m not gonna call the events of Tuesday night a relapse because that sounds like something happened to me. This didn’t just happen. It was planned.
Those of you who have heard me speak about my problems with drinking know that I have never really believed that I am addicted to alcohol or that I have the disease of alcoholism. People like me just don’t become alcoholics. If things get out of hand it’s because I choose for them to. And furthermore, in the past, until I got into treatment, I never really tried to stop or even curb my drinking. The times when I said, “only two tonight,” I never really meant it. The second one led to the third and fourth and sometimes fifth or more. And the times it led to alcohol poisoning and ER visits were a) because I didn’t eat, and b) because Michael was scared. If we had just stayed home, I would have been deathly ill for a day, and recovered in two.
I have long had the nagging feeling in my gut that I would have and could have stopped on my own if I had wanted to. I have had imposter syndrome being abstinent, going to meetings and ingratiating myself into a recovery community.
On August 7th, the day before I would have had 2 1/2 years of sobriety, meaning I hadn’t had even a sip of alcohol, I decided to drink. The “program” tells us that even one sip of alcohol will trigger cravings and a compulsion to keep going. But surely I could drink a sip or two, or even a couple of beers, and stop. I didn’t want to fake this alcoholism/addiction anymore. I left the details of my experiment open ended and told a few people close to me that I was going to try to drink till the end of August.
It went okay! After one beer, I felt the compulsion and, since I had given myself permission, had two, or three. For two weeks, I drank pretty moderately a handful of times.
I felt sad. If I proved that I was not an alcoholic, what would I do with my life? No more meetings, no more community, no more purpose. I could keep it a secret from the organizations I work with. I don’t know if they require abstinence or not.
Keep my drinking a secret. How is that normal? If the organizations I work with require abstinence, why wouldn’t I just not drink? Would I lose Claire as my sponsor and friend? Sad, and feeling alone, I decided it was worth the risk of losing everything in sobriety to discover that I could drink. Hmmm, losing things is worth it if I can drink. I mean, hello?
When husband left town on Tuesday morning, I knew that night was gonna be somewhat of a bender, but I did not know just how much of one it would turn out to be. To put this in perspective, the night before I admitted into CeDAR, I drank a six pack of microbrew beer and ended up depressed on the floor in the fetal position. I arrived at CeDAR sober, a tiny .02 or something, and I was out of detox in 24 hours.
By 2am on Tuesday night there were 12 empty beer bottles in the sink. I watched my go-to favorite drunken movie Dreamgirls and sang (I know all the lyrics to every song, and when I’m that drunk, I am delusional and think I can belt out “I am telling you.” I can’t.
I danced until I couldn’t move anymore and crawled to the bedroom.
Wednesday was spent sick in bed. I called some people, felt validated and supported, and today, I’m back to me. I am done playing with fire. I will henceforth surround myself with people who will support my sobriety and who I can call on when I need to. I’ve spent the past 2 1/2 years in a position of “sober authority,” trying to help others. I really hope I have, but I forgot that I needed to be clean and emotionally sober in the process.
So this is my capital R story. I’m being public about it here so I don’t have to come out at meetings. And maybe I can help someone with my honesty and stop them from needing to prove to themselves that they do drink compulsively and without abandon. If I did – lightweight drinker that I am – than I promise you, any of you in recovery that read this, you did too, and there’s nothing to prove.
Love, Jean, abuser of alcohol and probably, alcoholic.
Lady your honesty combined with wit creates a vulnerability that is very relatable! Thank you more than you know.
Jean your words are an inspiration, as is your journey. The mind games we play with ourselves are just as much part of the problem, then anything else. You are raw and real and transparent and THAT is so helpful and the accountability is a huge part of this process. You have always been real, and for that I am appreciative, from the day you arrived at Cedar with an arm full of books for me. Please know I love you and that love is not conditional. You had to test this and that is ok, as it is part of your process and I respect and adore you for who you are, your genuine presence, your compassion, not your sobriety. Thanks for being a friend always. XO