That beast in my dream
This is day 4. That should be a good start but I have had a hundred day 4's during the last 10 years. It's so easy and then a slip and I'm right back at it again. And I'm tired of it.
Two weeks ago my daughter graduated from the 5th grade and was selected to read an essay on the dangers of drugs and alcohol. I was (am) extremely proud of her composure on stage, her ability to speak with passion and communicate her feelings so clearly. But I never heard the message.
Last Saturday, while watching fireworks, she took my hand looked up at me and said, "Dad, I wrote that essay for you". I could have cried (and am just about to now) and vowed to try again. The next day was fathers day and usually a good excuse to get stinkng drunk. Instead it was day one, the first day in 6 months I hadn't had a drink. It felt good.
Not any more. It is a persistant whisper in my ear, a trumping in my head, a constant ache for alcohol. I really, really want to drink. Last night I wanted it so bad I went bed early so I wouldn't think about it...
... and suddenly found myself at the neighborhood bar trying to get out before I caved in and drank with the other regulars. I would push on the door and it would open a few inches and then someone (something?) was pushing on the other side pushing it closed and the regulars were calling me back to the bar, to buy me some drinks and it would so easy to give up and join them. But I would try again but the door wouldn't open as far and I could hear my daughter outside imploring me "Keep pushing Dad!" But the beast behind the door was relentless and strong. My body felt like it was burning and I was fatigued to point of collapse when...
... I woke up drenched in sweat, my pillow and sheets soaked. I was heaving/gasping to catch my breath and my head thumped and my whole body ached. Halfway to bathroom my legs cramped and then my stomach and I collapsed, dragging myself into bathroom, dry heaving into the toilet.
I'm scared. I'm afraid to go to bed tonight. I don't want another nightmare like that. I'm afraid the beast will win. I'm afraid I will die in my sleep. I'm afraid to tell anyone.
The written word has always been a therapy for me and I feel a little better letting this out. More tomorrow, I hope