Yes, I had more to drink tonight than I intended. Yes, it’s 1:20 a.m. But look: I was channel surfing (well, Netflix surfing, actually, since we’ve suspended our satellite service) and decided there … was … nothing … I … wanted … to … watch. So I’m off to bed before I’m truly beside myself.
It doesn’t sound like much but right now it’s huge.
Huge.
Today is one of those days when I’m not only not on the bus at all, but it’s jumped up on the sidewalk and run me over. I’m in a complete panic about work — I’ve really really really messed up, though I think I can recover, I just need to work really really really hard for the next 10 days or so, and I need to really really really grovel. I know this is related to my drinking. My work has been slipping for months — years, really — and I keep telling myself and others that it’s got to do with all the travelling I’ve been doing, because that dislocates me (no pun intended). But in my heart of hearts, I know that while this is true, there is more to it. One of the reasons I feel so dislocated is because of the alcohol, because I’m perpetually groggy and foggy and putting off thinking hard about things, so I keep pushing the harder work to the back burner and now suddenly all the back-burner stuff has leaped to the front of the line and I’m overwhelmed and panicky and can’t think about any of it.
It all makes me want a drink. NOW. But I read something this morning about an AA truism that “many drinks are not enough and one drink is too many.” And ain’t it the truth.
Dinner party last night, band practice, and right back to my old habits — afterparty with drinks. Sigh. The upside is that I see what the trigger was & I understand why I couldn’t find the pause button last night. Had a busy day yesterday, and took no time to reflect. I gave someone a ride, and didn’t take the time to make a plan for when I got home and knew I would want a drink. In fact, I took the time to buy an extra bottle of wine instead. I told myself it was my choice and I knew it was a bad one at the time. And did it anyway.
I’ve been denying that I’ve been persuading myself that I can do the same thing today as I did yesterday, with different results.
I see now that in fact, that’s precisely what I do every time I open a bottle and say to myself, this time I’ll have just one. This time I’m in control.
In fact, I’m seeing that while I can certainly be outta control, being in control is not the answer. Driving my own bus is not the answer, really. The answer is just what AA and so many others say it is: surrender.
After the party. It’s 2:30 a.m. Had one glass of wine at the party, drank water & tea while playing guitar & singing till 1:30. Had a wonderful time.
And … drum roll, please …
No afterparty!
While driving to my friends’ place, the thought struck me that alcohol is really no different from potato chips. I can’t have just one little bowl of chips. Once I open the bag it takes every ounce of willpower not to scarf the whole thing down. So what do I do about chips? Well, mostly I don’t keep them around. When somebody else buys them, I try to ignore them. Stash them somewhere out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind. Every once in a while, as a treat or when I consciously decide, okay, I’m in the mood for some comfort food, I’ll buy a bag. Maybe I’ll scarf the whole thing down, maybe I won’t, but if I do, it’s not the end of the world, and it doesn’t mean I’ll go out and buy another bag tomorrow.
So I said to myself, so why can’t I do the same thing with alcohol? I really don’t think the physical part of the two addictions is all that different. I’m usually pretty successful at controlling my food urges, so why should alcohol any different? In a way, food urges are harder, because you have to eat, and you have to keep food around. It’s a matter of what kind of food and how much. With alcohol, you don’t have to keep it around.
So I made a plan that when I got home I wouldn’t have an afterparty. I decided I wouldn’t turn on the TV (one of my big triggers). Instead, I’d just read a bit and then go to bed. While driving home I got in touch with how my body was feeling: so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. I thought I’d have a nice cuppa tea instead of that vodka in the freezer. But when I got home I decided I didn’t even want that, so I just poured myself a glass of milk and came upstairs to get ready for bed. I turned on the computer on the way because I remembered an email I was going to send earlier in the day but I’ve done that & now I’ve written this & I’m off to bed.
HA! Success!
The past few days have been a real struggle. As I get closer to ending this toxic relationship with alcohol, I find myself mindlessly drinking more, not less. Had a great counselling session the other day, which has left me with lots to think about and with tools to stop it, just stop it. I know I have to have a plan in place for the evil time of day when the urge hits and the cravings seem overwhelming … but can’t/won’t bring myself to do it. Not yet, not now.
Going out to a party tonight, however, and expect I’ll be driving, so that means I won’t be drinking at all. The danger zone will be when I get home. I’ll want to have an after-party. How do I hit the pause button before I just mindlessly take that drink late at night?
Okay, I filled out this chart my counsellor gave me, with costs & benefits of changing and not changing my behaviour. Bottom line is that objectively, the costs of drinking to excess far outweigh the benefits. Bottom line is that the cost is, ultimately, death. Plain and simple. I know this. I knew it before I filled out the chart.
The trick is I need to actually care. Yes, drinking increasingly copious quantities of alcohol will ultimately lead to death. And most likely a rather nasty one. But so what? Ya gotta die of something, right? And at this point, while I’m not suicidal, what I am is just plain tired of the effort to stay alive every day.
On the other hand, maybe I’m just tired of living like this. Sick & tired of feeling groggy and foggy and guilty and crappy every morning. Sick & tired of feeling so unhealthy. Sick & tired of being out of control. Just sick & tired.
Huh.
But I don’t know what I’m actually craving. Yes, it’s wine, but what is it really?
This gallery contains 2 photos.
Started drinking while making dinner. I thought I was being unusually clever when I measured out 10 oz. into a carafe — 2 glasses of wine, I thought, that could in theory be enough for tonight. I knew deep down … Continue reading
Hungry Angry Lonely Tired — doesn’t begin to capture the range of emotion. Anxious, lackadaisical bored anxious anxious frustrated elated … only a starting point.
Happy Anxious Lost Thirsty
I’m loving the metaphor of Mrs. Whine as an old friend who used to be kinda fun but has become overbearing and toxic. Blend that with the metaphor of driving the bus, and you get the worst kind of back-seat driver. Whining in your ear all the time, telling you where to go, how to get there, how fast to drive, when to change lanes, where to park, and all of that. I guess mine is more a mini-bus or mini-van, but I love the picture of the great big coach going down into the Ramon Crater in the Negev, so I’m sticking with that.
I’m feeling that I’m just getting warmed up to my topic here. I’m out of practice.
I’ve been playing with the image of getting back into the driver’s seat of my life. It’s really scary to say that.
Driving my own bus 