Originally Posted by
Matt9880 
6 am Monday...eyes open sweating and shivering in the fetal position...close my eyes hoping the next 60 minutes take an eternity.
6:50 am Monday... I realize my daughter will come see me on the couch at 7:10am...must throw 4 to 6 empty beer cans crushed and spilled around my bloated corpse in the garbage on top of the other 12 filling the garbage. I must also create artificial garbage to throw on top in case my wife opens the garbage and over flowing empty cans spill out on to the floor creating that sickening clank I know all to welI. I wait until my wife starts blow drying her to pull the massive bag of empty beer cans out of the garbage can... a symphony of misery and failure all clanking together.
7 am Monday and the sound "daddy" from my 5 year little girl is pure alcoholic hell. 3 days and 50 beers later I sweat and tremor making her grilled cheese and packing her lunch in a haze of confusion exhaustion and paranoia.
8 am Monday...I drive to work sweating and confused everyone seems to be going so fast...why is the sun so damn bright?!...my stomach is the only thing alive and I am going to puke NOW!
815 am Boss: have a good weekend?!
Me: great time with the family!
Boss: ready to get to work?!
816am-430pm Me...(dont puke and can I die today?)
I binge 18 beers on friday, 18 on Saturday and 18 on sunday and a few weeknights here and there (give the illusion you are in control) my 5 year old little girl and wife love fun weekend dad!
Welcome Matt (haha, 'welcome mat'!) and thank you for sharing. I know it had to be painful for you to relive that snippet of a typical weekend but you took the first step in putting the raw, ugly truth out there, which says to me you are ready to face this thing and to change. And the awesome thing is that you can be free from that hell starting right now.
Your story resonated with me in so many ways, especially the insanity of sneaking around to hide the evidence. I mostly bought my beer in glass bottles because it was easier to muffle the "psst" of the twist top vs the "Ca-Crack"! of a can. I'd slink to the fridge for another and stick it down my pants, being sure to hold my ipad in front as I retreated back to my office, away from the watchful eyes of my teenage sons. Empties were squirreled in every orifice of my office until daytime when I was alone, at which point I'd hide them inside other bags of garbage and out to the pail. I always left some in the recycle bin, hoping that everyone would assume that was all I really drank.
Each time I lied, deceived, or snuck around to drink my self esteem eroded more. In many ways the cumulative shame of my dishonesty is the most painful part of all--and as you know, our drinking problem created A LOT of other pain, both physical and emotional.
I've had many false starts and have quit for extended times in the past only to pick up again. Today I'm on day 12 of sobriety, but it feels so different this time. For the first time EVER I made a commitment to myself, and I made a PLAN to help me stop. For me the most valuable tool is having a list of activities and actions I can take when that wave of craving hits. I used to fear those moments when the beast would come whispering in my ear "come on, have a drink"! because I never knew if I'd give in or not. I felt powerless over the cravings--kind of like that corny lyric from the Katy Perry song, I felt "Like a plastic bag drifting through the wind". But now I have ammunition for the beast. I feel prepared, and not so scared for when the cravings come.
And they do come. But I know over time they will come less and less, and in addition to learning to ride those waves home instead of letting them wipe me out, they will also slowly but surely change from the hurricane strength white-caps of early sobriety to tiny ripples in a serene pond.
Keep coming here Matt, it's amazing!