Close Call: Wave Riding at 106 Days
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Join Date: Jan 2015
Posts: 75
Close Call: Wave Riding at 106 Days
Hi, all.
I survived a serious wave earlier tonight. I'm 106 days sober. When I choose to abstain from drinking, I could no longer deny that I was destroying my life in small, steady increments. I kept my family on eggshells. My education was suffering. I wasn't living as much as I was simply surviving.
Well, tonight I came close to picking up where I left off with that life. I can't say what exactly started it off. It could have been that I was feeling particularly lonely. It could have been that I haven't interacted with other alcoholics for about a week and lacked any recent reminders of what it truly means to be an alcoholic. It could have been that I had been hanging out with friends who were (responsibly) drinking all night. Honestly, it was probably a bit of all three.
All I know is that I found myself at a friend's place, reaching for a bottle of tequila. My friend had called it a night and I was left to my own devices. I've been a welcome guest there for a while now and I'd often sleep over. That was the plan tonight, but there was something pretty disturbing happening. I wanted to drink. I sniffed at an abandoned glass of some mixed drink. I could smell the alcohol. I thought: "I could always say that I didn't know there was alcohol in it." I quickly poured the drink down the kitchen drain. In the kitchen, there was a bottle of tequila on top of the fridge. Moments later, I found myself reaching for it and thinking: "Well, relapsing isn't so bad. People do it all the time. XYZ did it just last month." I also thought: "It'll be fine. I'll just keep it secret from everybody."
Then I got this image of myself where I used to be. Drunk, alone, in my room. Beer cans littering the floor and corners. Unwashed. Unproductive. Broke. And I knew that there was almost nothing stopping me from going back there if I put that bottle to my lips. I've never been a moderate drinker. At this point, I can't fool myself any more. I knew I was flirting with destruction, but the worst part was... I didn't really care. I felt like I was tearing in two.
Just when I thought I couldn't take it any more, I got a phone call. A friend from a local meeting. We didn't talk much. I didn't tell her what I was going through. She invited me to a Saturday meeting. I told her that sounded like a good idea. Once we got off the phone, I said a couple of serenity prayers and high-tailed it out of there.
I'm home now. Sobriety unbroken. Shaken that I came so close to sliding back, but grateful that I was granted the strength to continue.
I wanted to share this experience.
Thanks for listening.
-Lisa
I survived a serious wave earlier tonight. I'm 106 days sober. When I choose to abstain from drinking, I could no longer deny that I was destroying my life in small, steady increments. I kept my family on eggshells. My education was suffering. I wasn't living as much as I was simply surviving.
Well, tonight I came close to picking up where I left off with that life. I can't say what exactly started it off. It could have been that I was feeling particularly lonely. It could have been that I haven't interacted with other alcoholics for about a week and lacked any recent reminders of what it truly means to be an alcoholic. It could have been that I had been hanging out with friends who were (responsibly) drinking all night. Honestly, it was probably a bit of all three.
All I know is that I found myself at a friend's place, reaching for a bottle of tequila. My friend had called it a night and I was left to my own devices. I've been a welcome guest there for a while now and I'd often sleep over. That was the plan tonight, but there was something pretty disturbing happening. I wanted to drink. I sniffed at an abandoned glass of some mixed drink. I could smell the alcohol. I thought: "I could always say that I didn't know there was alcohol in it." I quickly poured the drink down the kitchen drain. In the kitchen, there was a bottle of tequila on top of the fridge. Moments later, I found myself reaching for it and thinking: "Well, relapsing isn't so bad. People do it all the time. XYZ did it just last month." I also thought: "It'll be fine. I'll just keep it secret from everybody."
Then I got this image of myself where I used to be. Drunk, alone, in my room. Beer cans littering the floor and corners. Unwashed. Unproductive. Broke. And I knew that there was almost nothing stopping me from going back there if I put that bottle to my lips. I've never been a moderate drinker. At this point, I can't fool myself any more. I knew I was flirting with destruction, but the worst part was... I didn't really care. I felt like I was tearing in two.
Just when I thought I couldn't take it any more, I got a phone call. A friend from a local meeting. We didn't talk much. I didn't tell her what I was going through. She invited me to a Saturday meeting. I told her that sounded like a good idea. Once we got off the phone, I said a couple of serenity prayers and high-tailed it out of there.
I'm home now. Sobriety unbroken. Shaken that I came so close to sliding back, but grateful that I was granted the strength to continue.
I wanted to share this experience.
Thanks for listening.
-Lisa
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