Carly, I hope you come and read this when you get back. Your words have brought such tears to my eyes and such a sob to my throat. I could have written them. Not about the past, my drama was different, but it was there and alcohol use it against me too. When I discovered, truly discovered, that I could not quit ... I had crossed that line, I just gave in to this disease. And it took, and took, and ate, and ate, and distroyed. I died inside. I had my home, my kids, my husband, my friends ... and I died inside anyway. That alcohol took every last painful thought I had, every last detailed of every last tear of every last hurt ... and tossed them at me. God, it hurt. That is a pain unlike any other.
And it's this illness, this disease. It is so much more then the fact you want it and can't stop. There is a whole chemical process happening inside you that is eating you away. It transmutes like herion in our bodies, did you know that? I just learned that this weekend. It processes differently. This is a fact love, not something we say to make you feel better. It's progressing, it's getting harder. Keep reading, keep paying attention. It ruins the drunk, I know, and that is such a good thing. Because there is freedom for you, just on the otherside. A life you could not have dreamed of. Finding out I was al alcoholic in truth and could no longer drink scared me to my toe nails, but learning to live with out that bottle (those bottles) is the most freeing experiance. I have learned so very much about myself, and love myself, and my life.
My depression got very bad in the end there. Those last several months scared me pretty bad. I came out of a black out once and found a letter I had been typing online to a friend who had commited suicide. I was asking him how he did it, and praying for the courage to do it myself. Thing is, when I am drunk, I forget I want to live, that pain envelopes me completely now. It progresses and progressed. But when I am sober, life is too beautiful to give up. Even thinking of a drink most times (most times, not all, because that voice is so tricky it can slip up my brian from time to time if I dont stick to my program thoroughly) brings on an image of my children or my husband finding me on the floor with my wrists split. It's strong enough I know it must have been an active thought while drinking.
How did I get so depressed? Because of that demon tap-tap-tapping at my heart and soul. I've had some pretty damned hard times, and done much to be ashamed of myself. But I realized I dont want to die. So I had to stop killing myself, I had to stop drinking.
Watch your thoughts. That lonely-ness, those games, that pain is so incredably awful. PM me any time and every time you need. You don't ever have to go through this alone again. That is what the programs of recovery offer, and I have found it to be true.