Quit Date: Today

Today was supposed to be Q minus 3 days. My quit date was going to be Friday. But this morning’s email contained a challenge that I just couldn’t pass up, so it’s Q day today!

Saying goodbye to alcohol

Yup, I’ve come to the (very) reluctant conclusion that the only way to get control of this beast is to give it up altogether. Clean break-up, total abstinence, maybe forever (BIG resistance to that), but at least for the foreseeable future, at least until the emotional charge is gone. And once the emotional charge is gone, well, I won’t need it anymore, now, will I?!

My counsellor has said some people write letters to the bottle. Maybe I’ll do that. But for now, I’ve come up with a couple of ways of looking at it that may be helpful in letting go. Remembering it’s an abusive relationship. Remembering alcohol is NOT my friend. And so forth. Here’s what it’s like, from where I sit right now:

–        Alcohol is like that friend of a friend who shows up at your door one day to spend the night and ends up living in your house and he’s the roommate from hell but you can’t get rid of him because he’s charming in a bad-boy kind of way, and every time you try to kick him out he says he’s sorry and he’ll change and he didn’t mean to annoy you and he puts on that puppy dog face and because he’s such a smooth talker, he talks you into letting him stay one more night and then he’ll find his own place but he’s been here for YEARS and he’s charming in a devilish mischievous kind of way like Jack Nicholson in Witches of Eastwick or something like that but he has a dark side just like Jack Nicholson in Witches of Eastwick & if push comes to shove he will shoot you. Or like Matt Damon in The Talented Mr. Ripley, a needy loser who is charmingly ruthless and who worms his way into Gwyneth Paltrow’s life. Seriously creepy, and hard to get rid of.

–        Alcohol is like your ex who you had a really troubled relationship with but he’s still charming and you’re still kind of attracted to him, well anyways attracted enough that you keep ending up sleeping with him even though you know this is not good. It’s not that he won’t leave it’s that you can’t quite get up the wherewithal to say you really want him to go.

–        Alcohol is like that seriously irritating roommate who leaves hair & makeup in the bathroom sink, towels on the floor, pubic hair in the bar of soap, and takes forever in the shower when you have to pee; who leaves her food container, unopened and unrinsed, in the sink for you to open and clean and put into the dishwasher; who won’t feed the cat even if he’s right at her feet howling at her; who “forgets” to put away her shoes, her jacket, her purse, her keys, and anything else she happens to drop wherever she goes; who eats the last of the peanut butter and “forgets” to put it on the shopping list; who never seems to have time to stop for groceries; who drives the car for a week and a half and doesn’t put any gas in it and leaves the tank nearly empty so the empty idiot light comes on when you’re driving to Montreal; and who won’t leave on her own, so you have to be the one who moves out even though it was your apartment to begin with.

In search of metaphor …

Metaphors & strategies from counselling session the other day. Still trying to come up with a metaphor that works for me. These seemed to strike a chord:

Desire/need/compulsion is this big thing right now, like a giant banner right in your face all the time. I can shrink the banner down to the size of a post-it note that I can put in my pocket. It’s there, I can take it out and look at it, but then I can put it back in my pocket.

Alcohol is a guest who’s overstayed its welcome. You’ve invited her in but now it’s time to go to bed and she won’t leave. I can take control. I don’t have to let her stay. I can open the door and tell her to get out of my house.

I’m stuck-stuck-stuck on one track in my head, one voice saying the same thing over and over again, drink-drink-drink, need-need-need, must have now, and so forth. When I ignore it, it just gets louder. But I can turn down the volume. I can even change the radio station if I choose to.

There’s part of me that says “I don’t care” even when I haven’t touched the bottle yet. But there’s another part that says “Yes I do”. They need to talk to each other.

There are days when I seem to be able to get past the compulsion, when there are other priorities. The other night we did a recording session, and I didn’t drink. I had a Kahlua and milk at bedtime but that was it. So the recording session was a priority. And there were other days in the past couple of weeks when something else was more important, and I didn’t drink at all. So what’s the difference between the days when I have this compulsion and days when I don’t? When does the compulsion kick in? Why? Can I catch it when it’s happening and nip it in the bud?

What if I bought a tiny 1/2 bottle of wine? One that has only 2 1/2 glasses in it? I wasn’t ready to entertain that — why, that would mean going to the liquor store every day … or restraining myself from opening more than one little bottle a day. Or, what if I bought just one bottle at a time instead of 3? So there would only be one bottle in the house at a time? What if I bought white instead of red, so I wouldn’t like it as much?

The thought of actually doing any of that threw me into a panic, and I immediately went to the liquor store on the way home, bought two bottles of wine — one white, one red — and drank them both, almost singlehandedly. Same thing the next day. But today was better.

I’m told the urge passes if you can keep yourself from drinking for 20 minutes at a time. Just 20 minutes. My counsellor also said alcohol physically clears out your system in 3 days. I found myself saying, “I can do anything for 3 days”. So that’s what I’m doing. I’ve gotten through day 1. Onward ho.

And finally, I’ve started reading about the neurological aspects of addiction.

Betrayal

I was off alcohol altogether — not a drop — for over a year, a few years ago. So, knowing what I know, why on earth did I start again?

Because my abstinence buddy fell off the wagon. I felt so betrayed. I was hurt and angry — we had a deal, dammit. We had a deal and he broke it! And what made it worse is that he didn’t even tell me himself. I found out entirely by accident, and by the time that happened, he’d been using again for months. Months. I was devastated. The rug had been pulled out from under me, the wind was taken out of my sails, I was knocked flat. I tried to forgive him. I thought I had. But I really couldn’t.

You see, when I found out he wasn’t with me, really, and hadn’t been for months — that we’d been living a lie — well, something broke inside me. Somehow abstaining just didn’t matter to me anymore. And then all hell broke loose. I felt that if he wasn’t going to honour our agreement, I sure wasn’t going to. In fact, there wasn’t even an agreement anymore.

So, I started drinking again, slowly at first, but catching up pretty quickly to where I’d left off. At first it was just a glass of wine with dinner at a restaurant, but no booze in the house. Then it was just a glass or two with dinner at home a couple of times a week … and next thing you know, I was right back to square one. Hurtling down the mountainside with a maniacal bus driver with a death wish. And I blamed him. If he hadn’t broken our deal, I thought, I would never have started drinking again. And so I held onto the pain of the betrayal, clung to the disappointment, unable to let it go, for years.

Now I think I might finally be able to set it free.

All this time, I’ve been completely fixated on the fact that he lied and on how betrayed I felt and on how that reflected on our relationship and on and on and on. My obsession has been stopping me from seeing the obvious: maybe the lying wasn’t because he doesn’t love me or doesn’t respect me or our relationship. Maybe he lied because he was ashamed. Because his own self-respect had taken a big hit and he didn’t want to admit it to me because I was being strong about abstaining and he wasn’t. And what if he was afraid that if he told me I’d start drinking again? And he would have been right. What if his withholding the information from me wasn’t about me at all, but about him?

That something in me that broke so many years ago finally seems ready to heal. The hard little shell that’s formed around the broken bits finally seems to be melting, softening, giving way to something else, something greater than anger or fear. I am beginning to be able to yield to compassion rather than standing in judgement and blame. I’m feeling like I’m truly opening to love again, after ever so long, after way too long.

And where is this coming from?

I mentioned the event in counselling the other day, and I think just talking about it crystallized things for me. My counsellor observed that while a buddy system makes sense for going to the gym, an abstinence buddy hardly ever works out, for exactly the reason that it didn’t work for me. If one or the other of you falls off the wagon, chances are you’ll drag the other guy off with you.

Perhaps the realization that I’m not alone in this and that others have had the same experience is what has shifted my perspective. Perhaps my perspective has shifted just because we talked about it at all, regardless of the content of the talk. Talking about it has moved this story out of my dark little heart into the light of day, where I can see it more clearly because now it’s outside of me.

Now that I can see it from a different angle, now that it’s outside of me, now that I’ve written about it, and I’m revising the story, suddenly it’s not eating me up inside anymore. I’m humbled, but I’m grateful and I’m done here. Finished. Moving on.

Thank you. Namaste. Gassho. Blessed Be.

Thinking new thoughts about “habit”

Some new thoughts from last counselling session: I’ve been finding I’m not getting my head around hitting the pause button. I just don’t remember to do it when I’ve already had a few drinks. So my counsellor suggested “playing it through” instead: how does the movie end? (Hugh Grant at the beginning of Four Weddings and a Funeral comes to mind.) What’s the sequel? Play it through to tomorrow morning, go through all the steps on the way, from the “whoopsie, had too much” moment to the 4am, aw shit, can’t believe I did it again, and now I can’t sleep, all the way through to sleeping in past 9:00 and the prospect of yet another ruined day. How does that feel?

Delayed gratification and changing my thinking about “habit”: I know that sometimes only alcohol will do. Nothing else will, not tea, not distractions, nothing. And I need to know that and accept it: nothing else will ever be as good initially. My brain-paths have been structured over the years to accept alcohol like nothing else, to respond to alcohol like nothing else. The receptors are primed to grab the alcoholic high. So, nothing will ever be as good initially, but it will be better in the long run if I don’t take that drink, if I distract myself with a cuppa tea, with exercising, with playing some guitar. I know in my head that it will be better in the long run — even while I’m drinking some part of me is in there somewhere, knowing full well exactly what I’m doing, exactly what the consequences are, and knowing as well that almost anything I could do would be a million times better than drinking. And yet, the compulsion remains.

There are two things that feed this compulsion: habit and triggers. The triggers are these big emotional walls — I drink to ease and soothe frustration, anxiety, and fear. But I also drink out of habit. I love to have a glass of wine when I’m cooking, and I practically feel like I have to. This is partly habit and partly cultural construct. It may go back to … what was his name? The Galloping Gourmet or something like that. It just seems “cool” to have a glass of wine while cooking. This seems programmed into me. I also reach for a glass of wine when I’m winding down from the day. Again, there’s a kind of cultural construct there, something from movies and TV that tells me alcohol will be a nice thing to have while I’m watching TV in the evenings. Then I get into this vicious circle where I have to have a glass of something to relax, and then I have to have some food with it to absorb the alcohol somewhat, and then the food and alcohol are never in sync, so I get another drink, then I finish the food so I need more food, then my glass is empty so I need another drink, and on and on it goes till I get to that “whoopsie, think I’ve had too much” moment.

It’s this habit we’re focusing on, the habit of staying up after everybody else goes to bed and watching the things only I enjoy watching on the TV, and having a nice little drinky-poo while I’m doing it.

So, how do I re-wire the pathways, re-train the receptors, so they’ll accept some substitute for the alcohol? How do I think new thoughts, create new behaviours?

And then, how do I make them stick? I’m having to remind myself of thoughts I’ve had before, because I’ve forgotten thoughts that have been successful in the past. I’d completely forgotten my “potato chips” strategy (what’s the difference between potato chips and alcohol — addicted to both, so why can’t I make my strategy for chips also work for alcohol?) till I re-read the post about the night I came up with it. How dumb is that? It’s as if a big part of me wants me to be asleep all the time. Dammit, it’s getting crowded in here!

Whacky dream

Talk about not driving my own bus! I dreamed I was in a small car with a friend who doesn’t really drive anymore — her sister tells me she’s actually nearly blind and shouldn’t drive … and here she was driving me around in my own dream! There was also the usual kind of dream confusion, things like having trouble getting to my destination and finding my way around when I did get there — mazes and things like that. My husband was there, but he kept disappearing (he does that in waking life too) and then he’d pop up somewhere unexpectedly.

The interesting and cool thing is that the dream landscape was a new one for me. A metaphor for the new path I’m going down?

Minor Triumph

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.

Roadkill

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.

Hitting the Pause Button

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!

Finding the Pause Button

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.