Amazing what a week can do.
It's hard to believe that just a week ago I was getting wasted on my way to work to avoid terrible shaking on the floor while helping customers. I'm sure everyone knew something was up, but I got through the day. Well, I got through the day enough to drive myself straight to the hospital after work (yes, yet again). I was sitting on the gurney in he hall of the ICU, they didn't have a room for me (not that I felt like I even deserved one at that point), and all I could do was lay they and shake uncontrollably as they tried to get blood from me. Doctors, nurses, mental health professionals all came by to talk to me, all told me the same story: You can't keep doing this. You can and will die from this if this keeps up. My dad, who thankfully had forgiven me enough to sit by me during this, stayed silent and almost in tears throughout each grim declaration. Finally, after being given the number for a detox center and some meds to quell the symptoms for a time, I was sent on my way. Never did get a call back from that detox center, no matter how many times I tried calling.
Flash forward to today:
The prospect of being homeless is now off the table so long as I keep sober and go to an AA meeting at least once a day. These are the terms my dad has given me to stay with him until I'm on my feet again. And I've been doing just that. AA has really helped me through my doubts of stopping, though at this point all those doubts had been usurped, anyway. Drinking wasn't fun anymore, just a tool I used to keep me trapped in a cycle of misery and numbness; my own personal hell. Truth be told, I did slip up with a drink midweek as I was moving things out of my old apartment - the dangers of an alcoholic cleaning out a fridge on her own, eh? I poured the rest down the drain. I couldn't believe how many bottles I had ammassed over such a short period of time; they were hidden everywhere, even under the bathroom sink.
Today I'm doing much better. I'm still very irritable at times and still get bouts of depression, though neither are as bad as they would've been had I been hungover or drunk. Between meetings (and looking for another job) I've gone for walks in a couple of our local national parks, gone apple picking, and of course moved all of my worldly possesions from point A. to point B. (not super easy in a little VW beetle! Just these little things - yes, even moving - I find I can enjoy, now. It's only been a week!
Yes, I have a long road ahead of me, and yes, I'll face harder temptations. But for now, a week after flirting with death yet again, I'm happy that I don't have to look back. I'm happy that I could step out of hell and this time, I feel that I finally have the right tools to keep those demons at a safe distance, dancing in their pits.
... plus, I'm pretty stoked for the Braking Bad series finale tonight
