PART 2: Planning and Plotting, Lying and Dying...
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PART 2: Planning and Plotting, Lying and Dying...
For all of you who read my first post about my last week of drinking hell: Your support is what carried me through this first week of sobriety. I am on day 9 today and though I know the waves of cravings will come and go, I feel strong in my ability to let them happen and still not drink. It's all thanks to this forum!
This is the story of the rest of the week--my last week as a drinker. I needed to get it ALL in black and white, lest I start to forget. This is as honest as I've ever been with myself, and its hard, but necessary. Here's the link to the original post, followed by the conclusion:
https://www.soberrecovery.com/forums...housewife.html (Planning and Plotting. Lying and Dying. A week in the life of a drinking housewife.)
Of course by Thursday afternoon I was drinking again. I couldn’t envision spending a mere 2 nights in a row sober while waiting for my free-for all on Saturday. Plus, we were barbequing for dinner—always a good excuse to drink.
There were 3 beers remaining in the fridge so, wanting to stick to my “9 beer maximum”, I quickly did the calculations: Tom would have his usual one beer while barbequing leaving 2 beers in the fridge, so I’d need 7 more for myself. It's cheaper to just buy a 12 pack but I knew all too well that once that high comes over me I just keep drinking until they’re all gone or I can’t complete a coherent sentence—whichever comes first.
So off to the supermarket I went, buying four double cans of Michelob Ultra—what we called “Tall Boys” in high school. Each can is 25 ounces—two regular beers (plus an ounce for good measure). It was easy to ignore the fact that 4 tall boys plus the 2 beers at home equaled 10 beers, not 9. “Still below the point of being soused”, said my addictive voice.
Tom texted that he was on his way home from work when I was maybe 6 beers to the wind and in the prime of my buzz. Only 4 more beers till I was done, and the beast in my brain—now in her fully booze-soaked glory—was getting nervous. “Can U pick up a few beers when you stop for corn”? I texted back. “Just 1 or 2 tall boys”.
Tom hates enabling me by buying booze, but at the same time he knows full well that if I have “just a few” I’m going to want more, which meant making a beer run myself while impaired. And just like James, he too has a well-honed radar for my drinking shenanigans. I knew that he knew there were only a few beers left in the fridge, and his train of thought would be that bringing home a few tall boys mean I’d still have consumed a lot less than my usual, and he’d be preventing me from going out on my own. What he didn’t know is that I’d already bought the 4 tall boys for myself (which I would be sure to have drank and disposed of before he walked in the door).
This was deception of my loved ones in its finest form.
Being the miser that he is, Tom chose the beer that was, in his judgement, the most economic without crossing into “bottom of the barrel” territory—two 25 oz Natty Daddy’s. What I’m sure he hadn’t realized is that the alcohol content of Natty Daddy is 8%--nearly twice my usual Miller Lite or Michelob Ultra. Being that I was already feeling no pain I was pleasantly surprised at his faux pas, which would equate to me getting drunker than I planned. “Yay”! cheered the beast.
The time before dinner is a hazy blur: Me sitting outside with the family while Tom grilled. Me setting the table, slicing onions and tomatoes for the burgers; brief snapshots of grey memories with lots of gaps in between.
At about 10 pm my own snoring woke me up. I was on the couch i the living room, but whatever had happened between dinner-time and then was lost in oblivion forever. Morning would mean another round of detective work—playing it cool while trying to piece together the chunks of memory erased by alcohol. Until then I had the long and lonely night to look forward to—tossing and turning, parched and anxious, ashamed and regretful. And baffled. More than anything, my behavior with booze baffled me to the core.
6AM Friday morning showed no mercy to my body or my soul.
Taking the boys to school I noticed my car was backed in the driveway and the driver’s seat had been adjusted. I searched my mind for where Tom could’ve taken my car between dinner and bedtime but came up with no plausible explanations.
“Where’d Daddy go with my car last night”? I asked, in a fake-casual tone.
“Oh my God you seriously don’t remember”? James snarled, flustered. “He took me to play soccer but they were gone already so we went to Panera Bread. We told you all about it”!
“Oh right! I remember now, duh!”
Of course, I didn’t remember, not even one tiny bit. “It was the Natty Daddy” I told myself,--way too strong even for a heavy hitter like me. At the same I realized that I had no idea if I’d drank one or both of the evil double-alcohol laden cans. Which sparked another hazy memory from the night before: I’d found a full bottle of Miller Lite hidden in a small bag hanging from the coat rack. Most likely my younger son John had hidden it there weeks prior to limit a binge (his MO was to dump or hide my beers whenever he could). In my S**t- faced, booze- is- my- God stupor I’d stuck it in the freezer with plans to drink it soon after. Now I couldn’t remember if I’d forgotten it in the freezer, moved it to the fridge, and/or drank it. Pathetic. Yet all par for the course.
I had all day Friday to regret my actions, knowing full well that Saturday I’d drink again.
As it turns out, Saturday’s binge would bring yet even more misery—and, by the grace of God—the end of my drinking days.
The pollen count was insane that day, and my attempt at yardwork left me lightheaded and heavy-eyed. It was about 1pm, housework was done and Tom and the boys wouldn’t be back from the amusement park until much later—long after dinner. Despite my big plans for a full day of drinking alone the hay fever forced me to put my head down for a rest. I woke up refreshed yet a little disappointed to see it was after 3pm. I was way behind on my drinking!
After a fast dash to the beer store I quickly began making up for lost time. And oh how happy the wretched beast was when she could drink completely alone! Volume cranked, I could sing along to my favorite drinking songs while intermittingly posting and commenting all over Facebook.
Posts from early into my drinking binges are always grand, happy and super lovey-dovey; As if beer were my love potion #9, kiss and heart emoji’s take over my social media presence. It’s only later into the bender when the beast begins to sour.
Euphoria turns into hypersensitivity, which morphs into sulkiness. Elation is replaced with rawness of emotion.
When I’m around other people during this transition of good-beast to bad-beast I’m liable to become offended by even the slightest perceived offense; just one sideways glance can set off a belligerent tirade. When I’m alone, this is drunk-texting old-boyfriends territory. In both cases, my filter and my happiness dissolve and I become a zombie-like shell of myself, my emotional capacity reduced to little more than anger and resentment.
James once tried to describe to me why he hates when I drink. “It’s like you’re there but you’re not there. You could be right next to me physically but the real you is somewhere else. Your eyes look different. It’s scary”.
In my journal recently I had drawn a crude sketch of how I perceive myself in that state. My hands have morphed into beer bottles and my eyes are no longer human—they’ve been replaced too by tiny bottles of beer. Everything that makes me who I am is lost and only the alcohol remains.
Such was the case when Tom and the boys returned home from a long day out of state on Saturday. At around 4:30 I got a text telling me they were on their way home. I immediately regretted taking that damn nap as now I was only an hour into my drinking game and they were headed back. Another text followed very shortly after the first:
“The boys are very worried that ur going to be drinking in excess. Please don’t make an issue of it but if so could you lay off so ur sobering up by the time we get home?”
“Ok, why are they worried about that”? I wrote back. Of course I knew damn well why they were worried. They know my drinking ways and have learned that a house to myself is the beast’s favorite playground. But denial is all part of this worn out and pathetic godforsaken game. Instead of taking Tom’s suggestion I did the exact opposite and picked up the pace of my drinking, so as to get it all in before they were home.
Around 6pm the phone rang, showing a name I’d never seen. To my surprise and horror it was my mother in law, telling me she’d accidentally locked herself out of her house. She’d borrowed a neighbor's phone to call me. At that point I was quite impaired and beyond the point that even I would attempt to drive. While I’ve driven buzzed or "a little drunk" plenty of times, I was never one to attempt to drive while plastered. Luckily for me the awareness of the danger of driving while truly blitzed remains intact even when the alcohol has stripped away most other forms or reason. And Tom’s mother was a good 10 miles away. I dialed Tom from my cell while keeping my mother in law holding on the landline, a phone on each ear.
“Hey hon, where are you”? I asked nonchalantly, desperately trying to hide the slur in my voice.
“You’re Mom’s on the other line and she’s locked out of her house. Are you close to her house?”
“No, we’re stuck in traffic!” he said, flustered. “Can you go let her in”?
“I don’t have the key”!
“Yes, there’s a key at home. But forget it, I know why you can’t go” Tom said, defeated. “And I’m still probably 2 hours away”!
Apparently my mother in law could hear Tom yelling across the phone lines because she answered “It’s OK, I can wait 2 hours, I was gardening anyway, it’s nice out”!
I pushed down the thought that it was only in the low 60's and the sun was rapidly setting.
With a car full of teenagers Tom had to contain his anger at me, but I knew he was furious. Even in my mid-level drunk state of mind, I sensed I had reached a new low. Tom was always saying that he hated when I drank while he was out because I wouldn’t be able to help if he or someone else needed my assistance. I’d be useless, which meant I couldn’t be relied on. I always dismissed that argument as unlikely. After all, even if something DID come up, chances are there was someone else who could help other than me. Rationalization: also part of game.
Yet there I was. Drunk and unable to drive, with my 78 year old mother in law stuck outdoors and poor Tom trying to get to her as soon as possible while stuck in traffic in another state.
“This is my wake up call” I remember saying to Tom.
But first I had to finish all the beer in the house, including the 2nd Natty Daddy that, it turned out, I hadn’t drank on Thursday.
Tom and the kids didn’t get home until after 8pm, though I remember very little of that. Once again I had passed out on the couch and woke with nearly no memory of the hours before I fell asleep. Sick and ashamed, I got up and readied myself to go to bed. As per my normal routine on weekends I went to take James’ epilepsy medication for the next morning up with me so I could give it to him at 7am and let him sleep go back to sleep.
We have a monthly medication organizer for James which is great for ensuring he stays on track and compliant with his regime. But when I reached for Sunday’s pillbox I saw that the morning dose was missing while the evening dose is Saturday night’s pillbox was still there. By mistake James had reached for the wrong box and, because the pills he takes in the morning are completely different from the evening pills, he’d taken the wrong medication. James’ epilepsy is a huge source of anxiety for me and everyone knows this. When he was 15 my whole world turned upside down as he needed to change medications and in the process had many horrific break-through seizures. So when I called out in horror at the medication mix-up on Saturday night no one was surprised. No one, that is, except me.
James had realized his mistake almost instantly. The decision to not tell me was a collective one based not primarily on the anxiety it would trigger in me, but on the fact that I was drunk.
My fear turned to rage, as it so readily does when I drink, and I proceeded to verbally rip Tom to shreds. I called him a moron, an idiot, and a terrible father, among other things. I was horrified, terrified and mortified all at once.
So marked the end of just one week in the life of a drinking housewife.
I slept even less than I would on a normal drunk-night, which left me plenty of time to think. And in those terrible hours something happened.
Some call it “reaching bottom”, others see it as a light switching on in their minds—a revelation of sorts. For me, it felt more like a breaking point. The cumulation of the consequences of my drinking—especially over that past week—had simply become too much for me to take. The planning and plotting, the lying and slowly dying—deceiving my husband and children and leaving my mother in law quite literally out in the cold--I just couldn’t do it any longer.
Though I’d felt the sting of regret after drinking so many times before, this was different. For the first time ever the veil of denial and of self-preservation for the drinking beast inside of me lifted completely, and the magnitude of what I was risking became crystal clear. It wasn’t merely my own selfish pleasure that was at stake if I continued to drink. It wasn’t my right to unwind, cut loose, or “relax”, nor was it just my bank account and my liver that were suffering the consequences of my habit.
My drinking was putting my marriage and my relationship with my kids in grave danger. They had put up with my drinking for years, and my lame attempts at apologies and promises had kept them strung along. But that night I knew--my time had run out. After years and years of binge drinking and many short-lived attempts to quit, it all came down to this one choice: My family, or booze. One had to go.
My sons are my pride and joy, my husband is my soul mate. The love we share with each other is the most important thing in my entire life.
So sorry-not sorry you boozy beer beast. You lying, sneaking, selfish BASTARD. Your time is up.
I choose my family.
This is the story of the rest of the week--my last week as a drinker. I needed to get it ALL in black and white, lest I start to forget. This is as honest as I've ever been with myself, and its hard, but necessary. Here's the link to the original post, followed by the conclusion:
https://www.soberrecovery.com/forums...housewife.html (Planning and Plotting. Lying and Dying. A week in the life of a drinking housewife.)
Of course by Thursday afternoon I was drinking again. I couldn’t envision spending a mere 2 nights in a row sober while waiting for my free-for all on Saturday. Plus, we were barbequing for dinner—always a good excuse to drink.
There were 3 beers remaining in the fridge so, wanting to stick to my “9 beer maximum”, I quickly did the calculations: Tom would have his usual one beer while barbequing leaving 2 beers in the fridge, so I’d need 7 more for myself. It's cheaper to just buy a 12 pack but I knew all too well that once that high comes over me I just keep drinking until they’re all gone or I can’t complete a coherent sentence—whichever comes first.
So off to the supermarket I went, buying four double cans of Michelob Ultra—what we called “Tall Boys” in high school. Each can is 25 ounces—two regular beers (plus an ounce for good measure). It was easy to ignore the fact that 4 tall boys plus the 2 beers at home equaled 10 beers, not 9. “Still below the point of being soused”, said my addictive voice.
Tom texted that he was on his way home from work when I was maybe 6 beers to the wind and in the prime of my buzz. Only 4 more beers till I was done, and the beast in my brain—now in her fully booze-soaked glory—was getting nervous. “Can U pick up a few beers when you stop for corn”? I texted back. “Just 1 or 2 tall boys”.
Tom hates enabling me by buying booze, but at the same time he knows full well that if I have “just a few” I’m going to want more, which meant making a beer run myself while impaired. And just like James, he too has a well-honed radar for my drinking shenanigans. I knew that he knew there were only a few beers left in the fridge, and his train of thought would be that bringing home a few tall boys mean I’d still have consumed a lot less than my usual, and he’d be preventing me from going out on my own. What he didn’t know is that I’d already bought the 4 tall boys for myself (which I would be sure to have drank and disposed of before he walked in the door).
This was deception of my loved ones in its finest form.
Being the miser that he is, Tom chose the beer that was, in his judgement, the most economic without crossing into “bottom of the barrel” territory—two 25 oz Natty Daddy’s. What I’m sure he hadn’t realized is that the alcohol content of Natty Daddy is 8%--nearly twice my usual Miller Lite or Michelob Ultra. Being that I was already feeling no pain I was pleasantly surprised at his faux pas, which would equate to me getting drunker than I planned. “Yay”! cheered the beast.
The time before dinner is a hazy blur: Me sitting outside with the family while Tom grilled. Me setting the table, slicing onions and tomatoes for the burgers; brief snapshots of grey memories with lots of gaps in between.
At about 10 pm my own snoring woke me up. I was on the couch i the living room, but whatever had happened between dinner-time and then was lost in oblivion forever. Morning would mean another round of detective work—playing it cool while trying to piece together the chunks of memory erased by alcohol. Until then I had the long and lonely night to look forward to—tossing and turning, parched and anxious, ashamed and regretful. And baffled. More than anything, my behavior with booze baffled me to the core.
6AM Friday morning showed no mercy to my body or my soul.
Taking the boys to school I noticed my car was backed in the driveway and the driver’s seat had been adjusted. I searched my mind for where Tom could’ve taken my car between dinner and bedtime but came up with no plausible explanations.
“Where’d Daddy go with my car last night”? I asked, in a fake-casual tone.
“Oh my God you seriously don’t remember”? James snarled, flustered. “He took me to play soccer but they were gone already so we went to Panera Bread. We told you all about it”!
“Oh right! I remember now, duh!”
Of course, I didn’t remember, not even one tiny bit. “It was the Natty Daddy” I told myself,--way too strong even for a heavy hitter like me. At the same I realized that I had no idea if I’d drank one or both of the evil double-alcohol laden cans. Which sparked another hazy memory from the night before: I’d found a full bottle of Miller Lite hidden in a small bag hanging from the coat rack. Most likely my younger son John had hidden it there weeks prior to limit a binge (his MO was to dump or hide my beers whenever he could). In my S**t- faced, booze- is- my- God stupor I’d stuck it in the freezer with plans to drink it soon after. Now I couldn’t remember if I’d forgotten it in the freezer, moved it to the fridge, and/or drank it. Pathetic. Yet all par for the course.
I had all day Friday to regret my actions, knowing full well that Saturday I’d drink again.
As it turns out, Saturday’s binge would bring yet even more misery—and, by the grace of God—the end of my drinking days.
The pollen count was insane that day, and my attempt at yardwork left me lightheaded and heavy-eyed. It was about 1pm, housework was done and Tom and the boys wouldn’t be back from the amusement park until much later—long after dinner. Despite my big plans for a full day of drinking alone the hay fever forced me to put my head down for a rest. I woke up refreshed yet a little disappointed to see it was after 3pm. I was way behind on my drinking!
After a fast dash to the beer store I quickly began making up for lost time. And oh how happy the wretched beast was when she could drink completely alone! Volume cranked, I could sing along to my favorite drinking songs while intermittingly posting and commenting all over Facebook.
Posts from early into my drinking binges are always grand, happy and super lovey-dovey; As if beer were my love potion #9, kiss and heart emoji’s take over my social media presence. It’s only later into the bender when the beast begins to sour.
Euphoria turns into hypersensitivity, which morphs into sulkiness. Elation is replaced with rawness of emotion.
When I’m around other people during this transition of good-beast to bad-beast I’m liable to become offended by even the slightest perceived offense; just one sideways glance can set off a belligerent tirade. When I’m alone, this is drunk-texting old-boyfriends territory. In both cases, my filter and my happiness dissolve and I become a zombie-like shell of myself, my emotional capacity reduced to little more than anger and resentment.
James once tried to describe to me why he hates when I drink. “It’s like you’re there but you’re not there. You could be right next to me physically but the real you is somewhere else. Your eyes look different. It’s scary”.
In my journal recently I had drawn a crude sketch of how I perceive myself in that state. My hands have morphed into beer bottles and my eyes are no longer human—they’ve been replaced too by tiny bottles of beer. Everything that makes me who I am is lost and only the alcohol remains.
Such was the case when Tom and the boys returned home from a long day out of state on Saturday. At around 4:30 I got a text telling me they were on their way home. I immediately regretted taking that damn nap as now I was only an hour into my drinking game and they were headed back. Another text followed very shortly after the first:
“The boys are very worried that ur going to be drinking in excess. Please don’t make an issue of it but if so could you lay off so ur sobering up by the time we get home?”
“Ok, why are they worried about that”? I wrote back. Of course I knew damn well why they were worried. They know my drinking ways and have learned that a house to myself is the beast’s favorite playground. But denial is all part of this worn out and pathetic godforsaken game. Instead of taking Tom’s suggestion I did the exact opposite and picked up the pace of my drinking, so as to get it all in before they were home.
Around 6pm the phone rang, showing a name I’d never seen. To my surprise and horror it was my mother in law, telling me she’d accidentally locked herself out of her house. She’d borrowed a neighbor's phone to call me. At that point I was quite impaired and beyond the point that even I would attempt to drive. While I’ve driven buzzed or "a little drunk" plenty of times, I was never one to attempt to drive while plastered. Luckily for me the awareness of the danger of driving while truly blitzed remains intact even when the alcohol has stripped away most other forms or reason. And Tom’s mother was a good 10 miles away. I dialed Tom from my cell while keeping my mother in law holding on the landline, a phone on each ear.
“Hey hon, where are you”? I asked nonchalantly, desperately trying to hide the slur in my voice.
“You’re Mom’s on the other line and she’s locked out of her house. Are you close to her house?”
“No, we’re stuck in traffic!” he said, flustered. “Can you go let her in”?
“I don’t have the key”!
“Yes, there’s a key at home. But forget it, I know why you can’t go” Tom said, defeated. “And I’m still probably 2 hours away”!
Apparently my mother in law could hear Tom yelling across the phone lines because she answered “It’s OK, I can wait 2 hours, I was gardening anyway, it’s nice out”!
I pushed down the thought that it was only in the low 60's and the sun was rapidly setting.
With a car full of teenagers Tom had to contain his anger at me, but I knew he was furious. Even in my mid-level drunk state of mind, I sensed I had reached a new low. Tom was always saying that he hated when I drank while he was out because I wouldn’t be able to help if he or someone else needed my assistance. I’d be useless, which meant I couldn’t be relied on. I always dismissed that argument as unlikely. After all, even if something DID come up, chances are there was someone else who could help other than me. Rationalization: also part of game.
Yet there I was. Drunk and unable to drive, with my 78 year old mother in law stuck outdoors and poor Tom trying to get to her as soon as possible while stuck in traffic in another state.
“This is my wake up call” I remember saying to Tom.
But first I had to finish all the beer in the house, including the 2nd Natty Daddy that, it turned out, I hadn’t drank on Thursday.
Tom and the kids didn’t get home until after 8pm, though I remember very little of that. Once again I had passed out on the couch and woke with nearly no memory of the hours before I fell asleep. Sick and ashamed, I got up and readied myself to go to bed. As per my normal routine on weekends I went to take James’ epilepsy medication for the next morning up with me so I could give it to him at 7am and let him sleep go back to sleep.
We have a monthly medication organizer for James which is great for ensuring he stays on track and compliant with his regime. But when I reached for Sunday’s pillbox I saw that the morning dose was missing while the evening dose is Saturday night’s pillbox was still there. By mistake James had reached for the wrong box and, because the pills he takes in the morning are completely different from the evening pills, he’d taken the wrong medication. James’ epilepsy is a huge source of anxiety for me and everyone knows this. When he was 15 my whole world turned upside down as he needed to change medications and in the process had many horrific break-through seizures. So when I called out in horror at the medication mix-up on Saturday night no one was surprised. No one, that is, except me.
James had realized his mistake almost instantly. The decision to not tell me was a collective one based not primarily on the anxiety it would trigger in me, but on the fact that I was drunk.
My fear turned to rage, as it so readily does when I drink, and I proceeded to verbally rip Tom to shreds. I called him a moron, an idiot, and a terrible father, among other things. I was horrified, terrified and mortified all at once.
So marked the end of just one week in the life of a drinking housewife.
I slept even less than I would on a normal drunk-night, which left me plenty of time to think. And in those terrible hours something happened.
Some call it “reaching bottom”, others see it as a light switching on in their minds—a revelation of sorts. For me, it felt more like a breaking point. The cumulation of the consequences of my drinking—especially over that past week—had simply become too much for me to take. The planning and plotting, the lying and slowly dying—deceiving my husband and children and leaving my mother in law quite literally out in the cold--I just couldn’t do it any longer.
Though I’d felt the sting of regret after drinking so many times before, this was different. For the first time ever the veil of denial and of self-preservation for the drinking beast inside of me lifted completely, and the magnitude of what I was risking became crystal clear. It wasn’t merely my own selfish pleasure that was at stake if I continued to drink. It wasn’t my right to unwind, cut loose, or “relax”, nor was it just my bank account and my liver that were suffering the consequences of my habit.
My drinking was putting my marriage and my relationship with my kids in grave danger. They had put up with my drinking for years, and my lame attempts at apologies and promises had kept them strung along. But that night I knew--my time had run out. After years and years of binge drinking and many short-lived attempts to quit, it all came down to this one choice: My family, or booze. One had to go.
My sons are my pride and joy, my husband is my soul mate. The love we share with each other is the most important thing in my entire life.
So sorry-not sorry you boozy beer beast. You lying, sneaking, selfish BASTARD. Your time is up.
I choose my family.
Member
Join Date: Jun 2013
Location: Big City
Posts: 3,895
You know I respect you for your honesty BND and I truly hope you are able to stop drinking.
But this post is a horror story. It's something I can relate to in some ways, having been the black-out father I was for so many years.
On the other hand I can't abide by the flippancy of tone that this was written with. You can't drink anymore, your sons have been through too much already.
I felt anger at your husband as well reading this. It's so clear how far down the path you have let yourself go and his willingness to participate gave me chills.
I assume today is Day 2? If I was a praying man, you'd be first on my list today.
Sorry if my tone is harsh. As a sober father who has been there, your post struck a deep chord.
But this post is a horror story. It's something I can relate to in some ways, having been the black-out father I was for so many years.
On the other hand I can't abide by the flippancy of tone that this was written with. You can't drink anymore, your sons have been through too much already.
I felt anger at your husband as well reading this. It's so clear how far down the path you have let yourself go and his willingness to participate gave me chills.
I assume today is Day 2? If I was a praying man, you'd be first on my list today.
Sorry if my tone is harsh. As a sober father who has been there, your post struck a deep chord.
Member
Join Date: Aug 2015
Location: US
Posts: 5,095
Good job on Day 9. Stick with it. You can do it.
Hopefully your next post will be about how you're doing it, what success you are having!! And most importantly, how the kids are doing. The repercussions of my drinking have very long reaching affects on my daughter. And, guess what, she doesn't reward me for not drinking. Haha. Geez, why not? I've learned its because its the minimum expectation of a Mom...that and a pulse!
Hang in there.
Hopefully your next post will be about how you're doing it, what success you are having!! And most importantly, how the kids are doing. The repercussions of my drinking have very long reaching affects on my daughter. And, guess what, she doesn't reward me for not drinking. Haha. Geez, why not? I've learned its because its the minimum expectation of a Mom...that and a pulse!
Hang in there.
Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: Jan 2012
Posts: 269
Originally Posted by lessgravity 
You know I respect you for your honesty BND and I truly hope you are able to stop drinking.
But this post is a horror story. It's something I can relate to in some ways, having been the black-out father I was for so many years.
On the other hand I can't abide by the flippancy of tone that this was written with. You can't drink anymore, your sons have been through too much already.
I felt anger at your husband as well reading this. It's so clear how far down the path you have let yourself go and his willingness to participate gave me chills.
I assume today is Day 2? If I was a praying man, you'd be first on my list today.
Sorry if my tone is harsh. As a sober father who has been there, your post struck a deep chord.
But this post is a horror story. It's something I can relate to in some ways, having been the black-out father I was for so many years.
On the other hand I can't abide by the flippancy of tone that this was written with. You can't drink anymore, your sons have been through too much already.
I felt anger at your husband as well reading this. It's so clear how far down the path you have let yourself go and his willingness to participate gave me chills.
I assume today is Day 2? If I was a praying man, you'd be first on my list today.
Sorry if my tone is harsh. As a sober father who has been there, your post struck a deep chord.
This is a continuation of my last week of drinking, part 2 of the story I wrote last Monday, but from the same week. Flippancy of tone?
Thanks a lot. That's not what I was feeling when I wrote it. So much for support.
Last edited by BrandNewDay11; 05-14-2018 at 11:41 AM. Reason: Edited to add: The very first paragraph of this post explains that this is the continuation of the first post.
Member
Join Date: Jun 2013
Location: Big City
Posts: 3,895
Originally Posted by BrandNewDay11
No, this is day 9. Did you misunderstand the beginning of my post?
This is a continuation of my last week of drinking, part 2 of the story I wrote last Monday, but from the same week. Flippancy of tone?
Thanks a lot. That's not what I was feeling when I wrote it. So much for support.
This is a continuation of my last week of drinking, part 2 of the story I wrote last Monday, but from the same week. Flippancy of tone?
Thanks a lot. That's not what I was feeling when I wrote it. So much for support.MY BAD. Now I see the chain and am impressed with you not drinking in over a week. I get it.
More importantly than me not understanding is how honest you are here - and how that can and will help parents like us come to terms with what we are doing to ourselves and our families by drinking.
Congrats on Day 9 BND! Well done and my apologies for not coming with what you deserved.
Thank you for the post, and the clarification!
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Enjoying this thread very much. I see so much of myself in all you describe here. The lying, the planning, how everything revolves around the drinking. And yes, my hubs has brought me drink often before, figuring I might jones him later if I needed more. If?? Thats a joke. We all know there is NEVER Enuff once we start.
Thanks for sharing your story. And congrats on day 9!
Thanks for sharing your story. And congrats on day 9!
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Those two posts were amazing, BND. I was the mirror image of you. All of it. That literally could have been 95% of my own story. You articulated the insanity and merry go round of alcoholism to a "T". Congrats on your continued sobriety. The best apology is always changed behavior. And I hoped you've stopped in time to keep your marriage and family. I didn't. Don't take that for granted, because alcoholism will steal it all in the end.
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Originally Posted by BlownOne
Those two posts were amazing, BND. I was the mirror image of you. All of it. That literally could have been 95% of my own story. You articulated the insanity and merry go round of alcoholism to a "T". Congrats on your continued sobriety. The best apology is always changed behavior. And I hoped you've stopped in time to keep your marriage and family. I didn't. Don't take that for granted, because alcoholism will steal it all in the end.
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Originally Posted by Stubbs16
Enjoying this thread very much. I see so much of myself in all you describe here. The lying, the planning, how everything revolves around the drinking. And yes, my hubs has brought me drink often before, figuring I might jones him later if I needed more. If?? Thats a joke. We all know there is NEVER Enuff once we start.
Thanks for sharing your story. And congrats on day 9!
Thanks for sharing your story. And congrats on day 9!
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Originally Posted by lessgravity
I'm so sorry! I misunderstood and thought this was you STILL drinking AFTER you wrote your previous post. The flippancy I felt was based on the idea that you wrote that previous, brutally honest post and then decided to drink after. Although I would have understood that you gave in, I thought this post was written about giving in again after the last - hence the flippancy I felt coming through.
MY BAD. Now I see the chain and am impressed with you not drinking in over a week. I get it.
More importantly than me not understanding is how honest you are here - and how that can and will help parents like us come to terms with what we are doing to ourselves and our families by drinking.
Congrats on Day 9 BND! Well done and my apologies for not coming with what you deserved.
Thank you for the post, and the clarification!
MY BAD. Now I see the chain and am impressed with you not drinking in over a week. I get it.
More importantly than me not understanding is how honest you are here - and how that can and will help parents like us come to terms with what we are doing to ourselves and our families by drinking.
Congrats on Day 9 BND! Well done and my apologies for not coming with what you deserved.
Thank you for the post, and the clarification!
The story of that week (both parts 1 and 2) were excruciatingly difficult to rehash, and emotionally it drained me completely. It would've been much easier to keep on minimizing it all; Do some morning-after damage control by deleting the embarrassing social media posts, disposing of the hidden empties, and give my lame apologies for the behavior that I don't remember but I'm sure was obnoxious. I"d go on to make a gourmet 4 course dinner that night maybe even stay sober for 2 or 3 days in a row--A piece of cake next to coming face to face with the pathetic reality of what my drinking was really doing to my family by typing out every last detail in my journal.
But I knew it was necessary for me to finally face the truth, and write it all out. I decided to share it here not so much for the support (which I admit is a bonus) but to further put it "out in the universe" so I couldn't just delete the file from my computer someday and pretend it really didn't happen. I also hoped it might help others be honest with their situation too. But make no mistake, this whole process (writing it, feeling the shame, sharing it and fearing judgement) was not easy. So the "flippancy" you perceived really stung.
I had to leave to pick up my son awhile ago, and I was upset. My face was flushed and I fought back tears. Was I really that much worse than the other drinkers on this forum? I even considered deleting my profile and all of my posts here--a self imposed exile for crossing some sort of unspoken alcoholic's rule.
The crazy thing, though, is not once did I consider drinking over it. The thought of going back to the hell I had just spent the day writing about seemed completely foreign. So that's progress.
By the time I got back home I had concluded this: I'm sure there are people on this forum whose drinking never reached the level of deception and despair as mine, just as I'm sure there are some whose drinking entailed even worse debauchery and depravity. I'm also positive there are plenty of us here who haven't yet faced reality 100%, or admitted to themselves entirely the crap they've done to keep drinking. I was that way for years. I thought I was less horrible of an alcoholic because I didn't "drive drunk", which I usually didn't, except for the times I did (like in part 1 of the story). Or that I wasn't as bad as the people who drank at bars, leaving their family alone. I drank at home, before dinner, and was still there with them. Except of course being "present" while drunk is almost like not being there, especially when I don't remember half of what happened. The creativity of my rationalizations knew no boundaries: "I never drank a drop through either pregnancy" was supposed to be enough of a sacrifice to justify drinking myself blind whenever I could after they were born.
My point is, here on this forum we're all at different stages of alcohol abuse and different stages of acceptance of our actions. For some, reading my brutally honest account of "a week in the life" might be too much. Maybe alcohol never took them that low or maybe their not at that level of honest with themselves yet. And that's OK. I just know that for me, the denial was slowly killing me, and I needed to get the whole disgusting truth out of my psyche and into the universe, for so many reasons. I'm sorry if it offends some, but it's what I needed to do to begin the rest of my life as a former drinker.
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No offense was taken - my frustration was probably coming from deep within myself and my own life choices.
What you are doing is admirably, ballsy and will be appreciated by everyone in your life.
I hope you cherish the clarity you obviously have at this point and use it to guide you. I know I've come to the same side of the sober bridge that you have arrived at as well.
Here's to getting better for ourselves and our families.
Thanks again for posting.
What you are doing is admirably, ballsy and will be appreciated by everyone in your life.
I hope you cherish the clarity you obviously have at this point and use it to guide you. I know I've come to the same side of the sober bridge that you have arrived at as well.
Here's to getting better for ourselves and our families.
Thanks again for posting.
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BND11
Both of your OPs were fantastically written and congratulations on your decision.
Me and My Beast resonated with a lot of what you said.
Lock that Beast up and keep starving it of ITs precious stuff, you've paid enough in indulging it , yeah ?
Any thoughts on letting your husband read those? ( a very key part of the universe where those words and thoughts may be well received ?)
Again congrats, you got this, give yourself permission to be a former drunk from last week onward , you were wrong about one thing, you didn't have to go through writing it out in order to quit, you always have the power , the stuff to be quit , anything that says otherwise is AV and wholeheartedly ignor-able, Onward !
Both of your OPs were fantastically written and congratulations on your decision.
Me and My Beast resonated with a lot of what you said.
Lock that Beast up and keep starving it of ITs precious stuff, you've paid enough in indulging it , yeah ?
Any thoughts on letting your husband read those? ( a very key part of the universe where those words and thoughts may be well received ?)
Again congrats, you got this, give yourself permission to be a former drunk from last week onward
, you were wrong about one thing, you didn't have to go through writing it out in order to quit, you always have the power , the stuff to be quit , anything that says otherwise is AV and wholeheartedly ignor-able, Onward !
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a perfect post. One I can relate to in so many ways; from upsetting and scaring my kids, to hiding alcohol, to needing my husband to go above and beyond because I was drunk, to letting people down, to the quick and volatile anger well into a drunk that I can't quite figure out the reason for the next day, to the bad mistakes, to my husband "protecting me" by getting more alcohol so I wouldn't drink and drive. I can add a few: asking my husband to drive me around for every errand and every dinner out because I was always drunk on a day off, drinking all of his liquor shortly after he bought it, drinking all day, drinking in the morning, passing out and waking up late in the eve or early morning to start drinking again, texting husbands co-workers and accusing them of affairs with my husband, humiliating him at parties by falling down everywhere....
As bad as you had it, it gets so much worse.
down to the your epiphany on the last day. I had that. It's like a spiritual message. An awakening. It's the moment you know you've have your rock bottom. You just KNOW. It's beautiful actually. I felt hope and relief in the middle of one of the worst days of my life and haven't had a drink since.
Welcome to sobriety!
and thank you from the bottom of my heart for articulating so well why I am still sober today.
As bad as you had it, it gets so much worse.
down to the your epiphany on the last day. I had that. It's like a spiritual message. An awakening. It's the moment you know you've have your rock bottom. You just KNOW. It's beautiful actually. I felt hope and relief in the middle of one of the worst days of my life and haven't had a drink since.
Welcome to sobriety!
and thank you from the bottom of my heart for articulating so well why I am still sober today.
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Posts: 269
Originally Posted by Stayingsassy
a perfect post. One I can relate to in so many ways; from upsetting and scaring my kids, to hiding alcohol, to needing my husband to go above and beyond because I was drunk, to letting people down, to the quick and volatile anger well into a drunk that I can't quite figure out the reason for the next day, to the bad mistakes, to my husband "protecting me" by getting more alcohol so I wouldn't drink and drive. I can add a few: asking my husband to drive me around for every errand and every dinner out because I was always drunk on a day off, drinking all of his liquor shortly after he bought it, drinking all day, drinking in the morning, passing out and waking up late in the eve or early morning to start drinking again, texting husbands co-workers and accusing them of affairs with my husband, humiliating him at parties by falling down everywhere....
As bad as you had it, it gets so much worse.
down to the your epiphany on the last day. I had that. It's like a spiritual message. An awakening. It's the moment you know you've have your rock bottom. You just KNOW. It's beautiful actually. I felt hope and relief in the middle of one of the worst days of my life and haven't had a drink since.
Welcome to sobriety!
and thank you from the bottom of my heart for articulating so well why I am still sober today.
As bad as you had it, it gets so much worse.
down to the your epiphany on the last day. I had that. It's like a spiritual message. An awakening. It's the moment you know you've have your rock bottom. You just KNOW. It's beautiful actually. I felt hope and relief in the middle of one of the worst days of my life and haven't had a drink since.
Welcome to sobriety!
and thank you from the bottom of my heart for articulating so well why I am still sober today.
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Originally Posted by dwtbd
BND11
Both of your OPs were fantastically written and congratulations on your decision.
Me and My Beast resonated with a lot of what you said.
Lock that Beast up and keep starving it of ITs precious stuff, you've paid enough in indulging it , yeah ?
Any thoughts on letting your husband read those? ( a very key part of the universe where those words and thoughts may be well received ?)
Again congrats, you got this, give yourself permission to be a former drunk from last week onward , you were wrong about one thing, you didn't have to go through writing it out in order to quit, you always have the power , the stuff to be quit , anything that says otherwise is AV and wholeheartedly ignor-able, Onward !
Both of your OPs were fantastically written and congratulations on your decision.
Me and My Beast resonated with a lot of what you said.
Lock that Beast up and keep starving it of ITs precious stuff, you've paid enough in indulging it , yeah ?
Any thoughts on letting your husband read those? ( a very key part of the universe where those words and thoughts may be well received ?)
Again congrats, you got this, give yourself permission to be a former drunk from last week onward
, you were wrong about one thing, you didn't have to go through writing it out in order to quit, you always have the power , the stuff to be quit , anything that says otherwise is AV and wholeheartedly ignor-able, Onward !As for letting my husband read the story, I have thought about it. I've shared with him that I am getting support from this forum and I told him that on my one year of sobriety date I will let him read the story. Maybe sooner, but right now I'm afraid of how furious he'll get when he reads the part about picking our son up from Soccer after 4+ beers. Especially because in so many of my arguments defending my "right to drink" as an adult I've pointed out that I don't drive the kids anywhere if I'd had anything to drink--even one beer. I know with more time in between it will soften the blow.
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Originally Posted by Dee74
That was a brutal read BND.
I'm very very glad you're choosing recovery
D
I'm very very glad you're choosing recovery
D
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Day 9, hell yea!!!
It feels good to write out your feelings doesnt it, you can be even more truthful about yourself when you air out your dirty laundry. In a weird way its a release. I did it alot in the beginning stages and thank god I did.
You knew you had a problem but you were weak and helpless , but now you're taking back control.....of you
And control you will have .
In the beginning of my sobriety, I believe it was Scott from WI who told me
"To Guard my Sobriety"
those words have rang true to me and Ive been successful since!
Heres the skinny , we all want you to succeed, but alot of us are very truthful too and will point out where and what doesnt work for recovery or just plain stopping drinking....
Fact: Just accept that if you drink again, everything goes back to the ****%y way of life you once had, BUT if you "Guard your Sobriety" and fight back, you will not only be successful in your life , but also in the eyes of your family.
Im like your , a prisoner to alcohol, its the warden that kept me locked in a musty cell of a meager life...
Ive turned the gun around and now I control it, and I control it by delete'n it out my lifestyle, my wife and friends drink, but you'll find me in the garage wrenching on my hotrod or backyard playing with the kids. I associate with all of them , but when their drunk, I cant stand it cause they're sloppy, repeat stuff 10x and they stink....:0
Fight your fight , and console in your family, you can do this!!!!!!!!!!
and post , vent get all the garbage out!!
It feels good to write out your feelings doesnt it, you can be even more truthful about yourself when you air out your dirty laundry. In a weird way its a release. I did it alot in the beginning stages and thank god I did.
You knew you had a problem but you were weak and helpless , but now you're taking back control.....of you
And control you will have .
In the beginning of my sobriety, I believe it was Scott from WI who told me
"To Guard my Sobriety"
those words have rang true to me and Ive been successful since!
Heres the skinny , we all want you to succeed, but alot of us are very truthful too and will point out where and what doesnt work for recovery or just plain stopping drinking....
Fact: Just accept that if you drink again, everything goes back to the ****%y way of life you once had, BUT if you "Guard your Sobriety" and fight back, you will not only be successful in your life , but also in the eyes of your family.
Im like your , a prisoner to alcohol, its the warden that kept me locked in a musty cell of a meager life...
Ive turned the gun around and now I control it, and I control it by delete'n it out my lifestyle, my wife and friends drink, but you'll find me in the garage wrenching on my hotrod or backyard playing with the kids. I associate with all of them , but when their drunk, I cant stand it cause they're sloppy, repeat stuff 10x and they stink....:0
Fight your fight , and console in your family, you can do this!!!!!!!!!!
and post , vent get all the garbage out!!
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Originally Posted by BrandNewDay11
Thank you SS. I am so glad that we both had such moments of clarity and never want to get complacent and forget the way I felt after that last drunk, nor how good I feel right now. 
and I've had that thought many times over the long months. It's a beautiful feeling. Makes me feel free.
I may feel awful, or craving, or sad, or angry, or wistful...throw in guilt, regret, etc. But I have my personal dignity intact and I make all decisions directly from me, from my command center in my brain.
I am in love with being in control of my own actions.
Day one, day 9, day 100, day 300....on any of those days you can say to yourself "I am making all my own decisions today." The alcohol doesn't drive us anymore.
Powerful.
. Glad you're here!
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FYI, your going to have alot of energy and cravings for sugar, so make sure you prepare for that!! I sound like a nut , but make sure you exercise, maybe when your kids are playing soccer , you can walk the field during practice. headphones and a good podcast Keep your mind occupied my dear.
I think it took me a few weeks or months to officially tell my wife I cant remember now , I told her about me on SR. I never asked if she read anything , and Ive purposely left the page open, all I know is that she acknowledge my problem once , she said she was starting to get worried as well, and once she called me a few bad words after my" initial moment ".
But I believe she is proud of me today, so dont worry about your Hubby right now , handle what needs to be handled!!!
Good Luck again
I think it took me a few weeks or months to officially tell my wife I cant remember now , I told her about me on SR. I never asked if she read anything , and Ive purposely left the page open, all I know is that she acknowledge my problem once , she said she was starting to get worried as well, and once she called me a few bad words after my" initial moment ".
But I believe she is proud of me today, so dont worry about your Hubby right now , handle what needs to be handled!!!
Good Luck again
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