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.

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.

Constant Craving …

But I don’t know what I’m actually craving. Yes, it’s wine, but what is it really?

Day 4 – The Insatiable Maw

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 →

Day 2 1/2

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

 

Day 2

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.