Am I Really An Alcoholic? 

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Mardi Gras was my last drunk .. I lived in Mississippi.. Was supposed to go to New Orleans for parades with friends there.. Celebrate being single.. We’d been fighting on and off for months. It was obvious that we weren’t going to work it out, but I didn’t wanna lose her. Despite how miserable I was.. It was better than being alone. The noise in my head was really loud back then .. All the time.. Switching back and forth and I couldn’t keep up.. One minute I’d be in the kitchen playing Betty butch Crocker.. Playing with Tyler, being the perfect mother.. The next I’d be locked in my room, sketching so sordid suicide scene, listening to plumb and cutting myself. Other days I’d be wheeling and dealing, flipping cars.. Buying them, fixing them.. Selling them.. Making money hand over fist, but still broke all the time. I’d been supporting her and our son our entire relationship.. Despite becoming so mentally broken that I was In and out of the psych hospitals. Eventually my job didn’t want me.. I was too much of a liability.. Too distracted.. No longer management material.. They out me out on temporary medical leave.. I never returned. Shame too, because I was the best darned manager that company had seen, for a while! At least, I believed I was. My ego so inflated, so grandiose, and manic when I really clocked into gear.. I brought home record sales weeks.. Superior service.. And kept my costs in line to the measure. It was the perfect job. I got pats on the back In the form of bonus checks. We didn’t want for anything.. Until I broke.  
  Now, it’s not surprising that I broke. Looking back.. The 80 hours a week at work, the suicidal teenage girlfriend, a newborn, and the craziest family in laws you could wish to have ,. Who all happened to work for me. My father in law was a pedophile. The family all knew it.. They’d sat down and forgiven him so I guess it was okay. It got really exhausting going to weekend barbecues at their house.. Watching them get drunk, and his touchy feely side come out. The grandkids were always there.. Young innocent victims with parents too afraid of being outcast that they just pretend all is well. It’s not surprising that I broke. I remember moving us out of there .. Out of Louisiana.. It was after id been homeless for four months.. Waiting for disability to approve my case.. That i wasn’t capable of functioning at a level where panic attacks, flashbacks, and dissociative episodes wouldn’t hinder me from working what was required. I was having episodes daily.. But couldn’t figure out why. I could never stay snapped into one personality long enough to figure out what was going on. It was like we all had to keep our eye on the predators.. We couldn’t internally trust ourselves to keep safe.. Not surprising .. I had plenty of evidence to prove to myself that I couldn’t keep myself safe. There’s no wonder I broke.  

  
  I remember we moved to Mississippi because our three bedroom house wasn’t big enough for her, me, our son, her sister, her brother in law and their two kids. I was the only one with income mind you.. I remember stressing daily.. Begging someone to get a job, but no.. Then that call came. Their son was putting toys up our sons butt.. He was five and our son was two.. He said his daddy showed him how to do it. CPS and the cops came, took the kids.. And I wasn’t allowed to kill him. There’s no wonder I broke.  
  Alone we lived again.. In a new house.. This was the house that we would raise our son in.. A good school district, a family sub division, and near the beach. It was perfect… And then your best friend and her girlfriend moved in.. Again.. Once again I began to grow resentful.. Resentful that I was always the only one paying all the bills. I felt used. All I wanted was my son in my life.. So no matter what.. I did whatever I had to do to keep him in my life.. I put up with whatever I had to put up with, to keep him in my life.. And I gave you everything you ever wanted .. So you would stay, and my son would be in my life. You got a job, met a man, and started having an affair within a month. I wished I’d never asked you to get a job. You accused me of being crazy, and reported me to my mental healthcare team.. I was locked up a couple of times .. You had our friends convinced that I was the crazy one .. Imagining that you were cheating.. That I was delusional again.. And they bought it.. There’s no wonder that I broke. 
  So we broke up.. And started leaving the house .. Full of panic and anxiety but it hurt too much to stay home, in our house.. Watching you text him.. Smile as you read his texts ., leave on weekends to stay at his house .. Meanwhile I was still paying all the bills. I told you I was going to New Orleans for the parades.. I fully intended on it, but I never made it there .. I remember getting fucked up.. Going to pick Benny up .. We were gonna go to New Orleans but we came across a guy that needed help.. If we brought him to Pensacola to help his son that was just admitted into hospital.. He’d give us a couple of pounds of weed.. It sounded good .. I could make more money.. And still make it back in time for the last day of Mardi Gras .. I don’t remember much .. I know we got the weed .. We never brought him to Florida .. On e he showed us the goods, a gun was pulled and he was told to run. We got drunk.. I went home and you were there with him.. Completely against the rules of my house … I saw my son and I walked out.. I didn’t want to act on any of my thoughts with my son there so I left .. Continuing to drink .. And popping my anxiety meds.. I was gonna go to Mardi Gras .. Party and say fuck it.. But I ended up at the bridge .. Stopping.. And feeling ready to just give up. The flashing lights pulled up faster than I could get my fat ass over the edge of that bridge. If it weren’t for my weight, I probably wouldn’t be here today. I was taken to the psych hospital where I stayed for six weeks.  
  I hadn’t planned on getting sober.. Just didn’t wanna be suicidal anymore.. Besides .. I had two pounds of weed waiting for me when I got home! By the time I left, sobriety was an obvious necessity. I admitted I was powerless, that my life becomes unmanageable when I drink. I made AA meetings, and built a support network. My life has completely changed for the better. I’m still single.. But I have the kinda life I never believed I could have. I travel all over the world! I get asked all the time why I don’t drink. I have friends that didn’t know me back then, and don’t see the harm in “just one”. They could never imagine the person I turn into when I drink and get high. I invented Emo.   
  Today I have been craving a gallon of daiquiri like a heroin addict going thru detox. I can feel my breathe quicken as I think about it. Chocolate banana mixed.. Extra shots.. In my mind I’m telling myself “I deserve it.. I can control it .. I made it all the way around Europe sober! You had one or two in November and bounced right back .. It’s Mardi Gras!! ” but I KNOW that I’m lying to myself .. That I’ll never actually make it to the parade.. I’ll taste it.. Just to quench the taste craving .. Start feeling a little buzz about half way thru the first cup, and “not want to have to worry about driving home drunk, so I’ll just go home now and drink it there .. And I’ll probably want another one after the first gallon is gone, so I’d better buy another gallon now.. That should last me till the morning… ” and before I know it, I’m holed up in my house..

Drunk.. Continuously topping off my buzz.. Keeping myself just there on the brink of feeling.. But not quite. “Functional” .. 
  I’ve given up sugar.. After gaining so much weight in Europe on that chocolate and sweet pastries that is everywhere .. And getting into good eating habits now, so that when I need to do it, post surgery, I won’t have to worry about it, it’ll be done. I have to say, I can physically feel the withdrawals.. I can taste what I am craving.. I want to get drunk to avoid the withdrawal feelings that I am having. I’ve cleaned my house, rearranged the furniture, and locked myself in my room. I decided to blog about it because, well, to be honest, I can’t believe how intense this craving is. It’s been a while, fortunately, since I craved alcohol this much. Lots of water chugging tonight .. And a new show to binge watch .. Maybe paint if I can focus. Just need to chill. I’m not alone.  Well, at least writing this killed another hour further away from the craving.  I love blogging!!! Hmm give love … 
What do I love about being sober?

  • Clear minded
  • No fear of driving drunk
  • No anger outbursts
  • Stay grounded 
  • Not suicidal
  • Can manage my emotions in a healthy fashion
  • I don’t have to drink to escape my feelings anymore.
  • Meeting other recovering alcoholics
  • Not being alone
  • The possibilities are endless as long as I am sober
  • The money I save
  • The memories I keep
  • The places I visit
  • Quality of life

I LOVE BEING SOBER

I LOVE BEING SOBER

I LOVE BEING SOBER

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