SeekingPeace01

Today started like any other Sunday except for the fact that I woke up before my alarm because I was not hung over. I enjoyed lying in bed under the warmth of my blankets and smiled at the criss-cross of sunlight streaking through my blinds because I was not hung over. I walked into work semi-clearheaded and sans physical pain because I was not hung over. I didn't raise my voice all day long because I was not hung over.

But somehow, someway, my mouth started to taste of alcohol around 11:15 am, and a familiar, habitual thought entered my head. "I'll drink tonight." It was that simple. It slipped in without my even knowing . . . standing there, at work, amidst everything I've known for so long, but feeling so unusual because I was not hung over. I'm always hung over on Sundays. Not today. And for some reason, on those hung over Sundays of past, I was not thinking of alcohol until at least 2 or 3pm. Because, well, I was hung over. Today, no-hang-over-Sunday, I could taste it.

And alcohol hasn't entered this mouth in 20 days, 7 hours and as of this moment, about 51 minutes.

I tried not to entertain it. I tried to push the thought from my head. I tried to wash the taste from my mouth. "How can I taste alcohol right now?" I wondered over and over as I chugged water. It made me so angry I wanted to spit nails until every wall around me was covered in nothing but rippling metal.

But that little creeping thought did not go away. I absentmindedly started to plan what I would do when I got home, what I would drink that is, then I'd catch myself. "Self, stop doing that. Be conscious that you are planning your own demise." It worked for a few minutes, then in the middle of doing an automatic work activity, there it was again . . . and again . . . and again. To my brain, these thoughts are just a habit.

I started to tell myself that it would be okay, that relapse may be a part of recovery (I read that in a book this week). If anyone knows that, it is me. I'm in recovery, right? And how many times have I fallen down before? And it has led me to this "recovery", so what's one more little stumble? What's just a few more hours of numbness? A happy face on the days I stay sober, an X on the days I drink someone told me not so long ago. 19 happy faces and one X is a pretty dang good ratio. But you know what folks, if you line up the last 10 years, there probably isn't even a full year of happy faces to measure against the 1000s of Xs.

But today, I didn't care. That thought slipped in, and it started to eat me alive. It was a freaking battle inside my mind all day. I focused on work, but every other second, this battle raged. Quiet at first. Just a little tap, tap, tap on the inside of my skull. Then, by the time I left, a hail of gunfire had taken over the entirety of my body. I knew I had to meet a friend for a film after work, so I was thankful. "Please, please let this pass before the end of this film," I prayed to the universe inside my head.

And I sat and I watched and I laughed and at some points I wanted to cry in that theater. The film directed the insane emotions inside toward something else, but they were still there. And then, I dropped my friend off with a hug, and then, the passenger door of my car clicked closed . . . and I was alone again. In the dark of night, driving roads I've driven 1000s of times before. Toward . . . home.

Night does something to me. It always has, ever since I was little. There is something mystical, poetic, beautiful, ugly, peaceful, magical about the darkness of night. I've reveled in it always. I've spent so many hours of it drunk and alone and contemplating the beauty and hate and the urgency of our existence.

There I sat, driving through the darkness . . . wondering if I would drink tonight, and it made me sick. The yearning. The hate toward the yearning. The spiral of trying to struggle and fight it off. The invisible hands around my throat, squeezing every ounce of resolve out of me.

I tried to give myself rational alternatives. "Exercise!" Whatever. "You have that new book to read." I don't want to. "Netflix!" Uh, no. "Clean." Why? "Lay in your bed and scream and cry and clutch anything but a bottle." Too much drama.

I tried to think it through. "Why do you feel this way?" I don't know. "What happened?" Nothing. "What triggered you?" I said NOTHING! "All right then if nothing happened and nothing triggered you and you don't know how you feel, how do you want to feel?" Numb. "Why??!!!???" I DON'T KNOW!!!

I aimlessly drove past my street knowing home was not the solution. Food. Food is good right? Grocery store. Sure. Food. Vitamins. Minerals. Gotta get water anyway, so . . . And the darkness of night kept reaching into the car whispering to me. "Just one night. One more night. Feeling nothing. You've already tasted it all day. What's it matter if you drink it? Just buy it. There are billions of people in this world. What does one little ol' night of YOUR life matter? In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't."

And then . . . I just started to go numb. All on my own. Like a collision course train on autopilot.

I got out of the car at the grocery store, and there was a man. A man sitting in front of the door. Collecting signatures to get somethings on the ballot. "Miss, miss, hey . . . just a signature!" he beckoned to me . . . "To get on the ballot?" "Yeah . . . " And then he started spewing his obviously rehearsed pitch, choosing, rightfully, to start with something about car insurance instead of the petition for medical marijuana. I was signing already. He didn't have to talk. I sign. He gets paid per signature, so why not sign? It's the nice thing to do. But then, as he was speaking, I looked in his eyes, and he was muttering something about how cold the weather is, and I saw how faded he was . . . just glassy and pupils dominating iris. And I felt bad for him. And for myself for some reason. And I went further into the numbness.

Walking through those well-lit aisles, I would have made a zombie ashamed. I was like a zombie but without the thirst for others. A slacker zombie of sorts. No clawing and clamoring to devour others, but splitting my own flesh open from the inside out. I trembled a bit, I think, walking through those aisles. I had no desire for food. I just wandered, one of those stupid plastic baskets hanging from the crook of my arm. Standing in front of the frozen corn, my eyes welled with tears, I actually realized, with complete disgust, that I was thinking, "Why me? Why do I have to go through this?"

Children cannot get equal education. People are dying. Somewhere, right now, I'm sure someone is being blown up by a bomb for no good reason. Ahh, there is no good reason to be blown up by a bomb. Some really nice peaceful monk somewhere probably has cancer and is in excruciating pain. War. Famine. Inequality. Hate. Death. So many atrocities, and I was wandering around a grocery store in a great neighborhood, getting ready to head to my apt in previously referenced neighborhood which is located in a region with one of the greatest climates on the freaking planet coming home from one of my two jobs . . . and I was thinking, "Why me?" Gosh, I must be a total self-absorbed jerk.

And I snapped out of my numbness, only slightly, but enough to be able to go get a bottle of water conveniently located in one of the many liquor aisles. Hello Jack. Hello Captain. Nice to see you Merlot. Heineken, how do you do? Not tonight my darlings. Not tonight. I have a headache.

I.Have.No.Idea.How.I.Did.It. But I did. I stopped myself. The alcohol taste is still in my mouth. I'm sure it's just my imagination. Oh my gosh, I AM clearly going insane. It IS my imagination.

This sucks, folks. I feel trite saying that. I feel like a jerk. But man does it suck. I don't want to drink. Why do these desires rock my body and fuel my mind? Why am I so numb right now that I don't even have the energy to fight and scream and stomp my feet? There are taquitos thawing on my counter as I type. I don't even care. I don't care if they sit there until next week.

So, I made it another day. I know I won't drink tonight. It's too much of a war in my head now. Too much conflict to slip into submission today. Too much fight left in me, I guess. Tonight, the darkness of night will consume me, but it will only find the numbness to hold onto instead of helping to create it . . . What's the point in drinking when I can now, apparently, make myself go numb all on my own? Possibly at will. Wow, sobriety has made me a magician.

Tomorrow is day 21. I get through that and I will be in the zone of the nearly unknown. 21 days. I've only gone more than 21 days one other time in . . . oh, 17 years? I know this is just the tip of the edge of the beginning. Seriously, not at all looking forward to the ugliness that lies ahead. Today, a beautiful day other than what was going on in my head, nearly ravaged me.

Thanks for being here everyone. I just really, really needed to get that out before I spontaneously combusted. Much peace and wellness to you all . . . stay sober and sleep well.

Dee74

I remember nights like that, Seeking Peace. I did exactly what you did - I reached out, I vented, I took counsel...but above all I didn't drink.

You did well - and it does get easier.

Is SR your only support tho? Sometimes a little face to face support can help too - whether it be AA, SMART,LifeRing, counselling...whatever.

Staying sober is not easy - especially in the early days....it can really suck - getting as many support networks as we can is not a bad idea

D

FBL

I've been in that same place many, many times over the past 30 years. In the past, I ALWAYS gave in to the temptation. I guess you've just got to want to be sober more than you want to be drunk. Hang in there, it DOES get easier.

Lenina

SeekingPeace,

The night has always been a rough time for me too. I'm glad you fought the good fight. I so understand the Zombie-walking! I used to do the same thing, always late in the evening to pick up a bottle of wine. It was so insane!

Our Dee has some good advice, as always. If you aren't involved in a plan of recovery, it is a good idea to get one. You'll learn tools for dealing with these times. When the "Voice" in my head goes off, I acknowledge it, tell it "No" and do something else. You have all the right instincts there!

Remember, you can always come here! SR is open 24-7!

Love,

Lenina

Kablume

Congrats on staying the course and your 20 days sober! For me it does help to have face to face support such as AA. But I must say that if your writing helps you, maybe start a blog in addition to your other sources of recovery. Your writing is exceptional.

firestorm090

Hi SP,

Great writing, keep it up.

I used to say I'm a night person, when the reality was that I was a night stalker, out on the hunt for a good time. the good times became fewer and fewer, yet I still sought the freedom and unpredictability of my youth in a bottle of booze. I would not admit that I was older than most of the crowd, I just sought an older crowd to affirm my delusion that I was just a normal guy. Sometimes, when seeing myself in the mirror of the bar, I'd see myself as I really was, just a lost old guy sitting in a bar seeking something that had moved on years ago and I'd see the eyes of a lost person staring right back at me, for those eyes were my own. Then I'd just have another drink and wish it would all go away. It didn't.

You made the right choice this time and hopefully the tapping in your head will diminish as time passes, so hang tuff and stay close to Sr, and your recovery network, and life will get better, one day at a time.

Goat

Hey Seeking.... Just a suggestion, but why don't you sit down and write a novel, or whatever you want to write. Or, heck, write a memoir of your drinking time. It might keep your mind off drinking for a while. And your writing is really a joy to read -- I would love to read your book

Way to put down that alcohol too. You were strong enough to beat it this time, and you can beat it next time.

-Goat

Tazman53

I enjoy your writing style, very articulate and one can feel the emotion, especially folks who have walked in your shoes.

Dee and other have suggested what I would suggest, call some one else in recovery, some one who knows what you are going through.

When I first came to AA my temporary sponsor suggested I get other mens numbers in AA and get into the habit of calling at least 3 of them a day, even if it was just to say "Hi, how you doing?" I will not lie, I hated calling people, I hated to talk to any one on the phone and I sure did not understand how that was going to help me stay sober until what I refer to as "The day of RAGE", the crap had been hitting the fan all day, I had been sober around 2 months and my wife called me to give me some further news which basically was the straw that broke this camels back........ I went into a rage, I slammed my steering wheel with a closed fist and said F... IT, I am getting a drink!!!!

I started to pray and the whole time I still wanted a drink BAD!!!!!! Some how I stopped my truck at a 7-11 but instead of going in and grabbing a 12 pack.......... I picked up my phone and I called some one on my AA phone list....... we spoke for 4 or 5 minutes, he knew what I was going through, he had been there himself, we spoke about things and within 5 minutes the urge/obsession was gone, I was back to earth and sober!!!!

SR is awesome, but when away from a computor having phone numbers of others in recovery proved to be the ticket for me. Stupid SPONSOR!!! Right again!!!! LOL

SeekingPeace01

Thanks for the support everybody I have been looking into some outpatient programs, but true to me, my schedule gets in the way, and I put it off until tomorrow. I definitely need an ongoing face-to-face recovery plan, and yesterday was testament to that . . . I really cannot believe I made it through yesterday.

I'm going to try to get myself to a meeting this week so I can start this ball rolling in a new direction. Man, I work a lot. LOL But I guess I use to find the time to drink everyday, so I can find the time not to drink everyday . . .

Ah, I made it TO day 21. Now just to make it THROUGH day 21.

box3

Lovely writing.

Some nights in recovery are just like that; full of inconsolable wandering and introspection. Trite as it sounds, it gets better with time, you grow stronger and reanimated while the zombie apocalypse fades.

Hevyn

Thank you for a beautiful and heartfelt post. I walked every step with you. Honestly, I feared the worst - was afraid you wouldn't triumph over the temptation. Like FormerBeerLover, in the past I always gave in too.

The struggle eases up as you go along. Every time you make it through one of these challenges you become stronger & more confident. You've come face to face with the devil & sent him packing. Well done.

Asta1

I most definitely concur that keeping a journal if you haven't already done so is a good idea. I also agree that you really have a talent for writing. Many, many artistic people, writers, painters, et.al. had substance dependence issues. Everyone probably knows about Hemingway, right? You showed your inner self how strong you can be. That's great.

Perhaps your journal writings could turn into a memoir someday? I just bought a book entitled Lit by Mary Karr that got terrific reviews. Per the flap, it is about getting drunk and getting sober; becomiing a mother by letting go of a mother; learning to write by learning to live. Haven't started it yet, but looking forward to it. Why couldn't your pain and suffering bring you a monetary reward some day? Who knows?

I am finishing up on day 18 myself. It HAS BEEN HARD. But I really feel coming here and reading and posting has helped me stay focused. Getting past day 17 was a record for me! I have been a daily drinker for years, but really started some bad serious drinking this year. Can't remember when I have gone 1 week without a drink much less 18 days.

I hope that you sleep well tonight and tomorrow will be easier for you. People say it does get easier. I sure hope they are right!!

WakeUp

SeekingPeace, the battle with The Voice is sometimes bloody, hand-to-hand combat.
Keep fighting it.

BTW, your post belongs in the next edition of the Big Book as a story.