Requesting Permission to Land
Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: May 2015
Location: San Antonio, Texas
Posts: 7
Requesting Permission to Land
I'm fishing for support anywhere I can get it. At one pont, I had around 11 years of sobriety in AA, but I stopped attending and <insert same old story here.>
I'm fresh of the most terrifying alcoholic experience out of a very long list of terrifying alcoholic experiences. I'll set it out here for anyone who cares to read it.
I popped back into reality just before six on the morning of Friday, May 9th, 2015. The first thing I noticed was that I was driving, and I was clipping along at a rate of speed much higher than the recommendation posted on Fredericksburg road. The next thing was that I was confused, disoriented, and hallucinating wildly. I seemed to be seeing the world through a picket-fence, but I was seeing things between the slats that just didn't belong there. I was terrified and the first assumption was that I had been drugged.
I made a quick mental note of the missing time---about ten hours. When the clock stopped, I had been leaving a graduation ceremony at the a local university. I had parked in an odd place, and I was kind of hemmed in by traffic, so I hung around and helped Verondica direct traffic for a while. She needed a ride and on the way out she got a text from her boyfriend saying to meet her in the adjacent park. We went over there and waited at a park table. I remember she was telling me about having some sort of vision involving Saint Andrew, and then her friends came walking up... <CLICK>
When the clock started up again Saturday morning, nothing made any sense. I pulled into a space-station that turned out to be Wonderland Mall and considered options. I thought about calling 911, but the flock of tiny sheep grazing on my dashboard, and/or my GPS unit informed me that I was very close to a hospital emergency room, so I asked Sulu to lay in a course and just drove myself to the ER. Probably a bad call, but I couldn't handle the prospect of calling 911 adding cops to this fresh hell.
On the way, I started to cry, which gave me hope that my sanity was returning because this seemed like my first appropriate response to the situation. I made it to the ER, and parked my car in what later turned out to be the physicians-only area. I was still crying when I got to triage. I gave what I thought was a fair self-assessment, but when the Sleestak in the aquarium started asking questions, I switched from crying to laughing and shaking my head. Finally, I gave up and loudly announced, "I am TRIPPING BALLS." This earned me even more attention than the fact that I was still wearing a kilt, and they quickly found some room at the inn. There was nothing funny about any of this, but I could not find my internal stop-laughing button, so I was still at it when Huey Louis showed up and gave me permission to stop laughing long enough to tell him what happened. I met with limited success and came to understand that he wasn't a 80's pop singer but the poor ER doctor assigned to my case.
I understood that I was now a "case," and consented to give blood, urine, or whatever they wanted.
Back at the space station, I had examined my wallet, which seemed to be missing about fifty dollars, but was otherwise in tact. My initial working theory was that Vernonawhatever had poisoned or drugged me and that her boyfriend had decided to un-pay the piper.
Later, after I slept for a few hours, I found a receipt in my wallet that provided fresh clues. Apparently, I purchased a large pack of AAAA batteries and a $95 bottle of scotch at Costco. I have no idea what the batteries were for, or what happened to them, but I'm pretty sure I know what happened to the scotch.
The amended theory is that I took Valissa to the park and got into the scotch. It's possible that, at some point, I decided to take some acid or something. I don't know anything for sure, but it's possible. Either that, or the alcohol trauma was deep enough to produce vivid and convincing hallucinations. Even more terrifying; it seems to have knocked some chunks out of my memory in a few points prior to when I started drinking. I don't remember buying the batteries and scotch, but that happened on the way to the gig. I also don't remember updating a database table for work, but when I looked, it had been updated, and I'm the only one with access.
Saturday night, I managed to screw up some courage and make an effort to get to an AA meeting, but it was closed! When I was in AA before, I think I'd actually heard someone in a meeting speculating on how much that would suck; now I can bear witness true. Much. It sucks MUCH.
I was actually thinking about this part in Romans where Paul says, "Oh wretched man am I. Who will deliver me from this body of death?" Of course, the traditional answer is, "Jesus Christ," but in this instance, it turned out to be Paul S.---unwitting emissary of God.
Mr. S. was also expecting to attend the "regular" Saturday night meeting, so we were basically in the same boat, important difference being he had intel on a clandestine NA meeting being held in the area, and he asked me if I wanted to follow him there. I said no, but I would do it anyway.
It was a great meeting. The group had a lot of really insightful stuff to say on the topic. I did my best to lay out the basics of my situation, and everyone was very supportive and welcoming. The only hitch was when the chair invited me to "pray us out," I said sure, and punted with The Lord's, which triggered the hippy I was holding hands with. Apparently he had some sort of allergy to Christianity. He wrenched his hand out of mine and took a few steps back before saying, "not Christian.. not Christian."
The chair suggested "The Third Step Prayer." I apologized for not having memorized that one, and in mercy, the chair took it to the floor for me. It might have been a pretty good prayer, but I didn't hear it because my mind went into overdrive trying to figure out what kind of unspeakable torments the Bride of Christ could possibly have visited on this poor hippy to freak him out so much. Then again, after reflecting on a lifetime spent in the company of my fellow Presbyterians, I could perhaps hazard a number of guesses.
In spite of his frailty, or maybe even because of it, I asked him to sponsor me. He seemed to know the program, and I figure I can be honest with him because his testimony would never stand up in court.
I'm cautiously optimistic about concluding a third day of sobriety. I hear rumors that an AA meeting is being held in the same location this evening, so I'm going to give that a shot. I've been to a NA meeting, and an AA meeting (just to cover all the bases,) and the plan is to commit the next 30 days to AA and the 1st step.
As the Way Opens,
StAnthonysFire
Day 3
I'm fresh of the most terrifying alcoholic experience out of a very long list of terrifying alcoholic experiences. I'll set it out here for anyone who cares to read it.
I popped back into reality just before six on the morning of Friday, May 9th, 2015. The first thing I noticed was that I was driving, and I was clipping along at a rate of speed much higher than the recommendation posted on Fredericksburg road. The next thing was that I was confused, disoriented, and hallucinating wildly. I seemed to be seeing the world through a picket-fence, but I was seeing things between the slats that just didn't belong there. I was terrified and the first assumption was that I had been drugged.
I made a quick mental note of the missing time---about ten hours. When the clock stopped, I had been leaving a graduation ceremony at the a local university. I had parked in an odd place, and I was kind of hemmed in by traffic, so I hung around and helped Verondica direct traffic for a while. She needed a ride and on the way out she got a text from her boyfriend saying to meet her in the adjacent park. We went over there and waited at a park table. I remember she was telling me about having some sort of vision involving Saint Andrew, and then her friends came walking up... <CLICK>
When the clock started up again Saturday morning, nothing made any sense. I pulled into a space-station that turned out to be Wonderland Mall and considered options. I thought about calling 911, but the flock of tiny sheep grazing on my dashboard, and/or my GPS unit informed me that I was very close to a hospital emergency room, so I asked Sulu to lay in a course and just drove myself to the ER. Probably a bad call, but I couldn't handle the prospect of calling 911 adding cops to this fresh hell.
On the way, I started to cry, which gave me hope that my sanity was returning because this seemed like my first appropriate response to the situation. I made it to the ER, and parked my car in what later turned out to be the physicians-only area. I was still crying when I got to triage. I gave what I thought was a fair self-assessment, but when the Sleestak in the aquarium started asking questions, I switched from crying to laughing and shaking my head. Finally, I gave up and loudly announced, "I am TRIPPING BALLS." This earned me even more attention than the fact that I was still wearing a kilt, and they quickly found some room at the inn. There was nothing funny about any of this, but I could not find my internal stop-laughing button, so I was still at it when Huey Louis showed up and gave me permission to stop laughing long enough to tell him what happened. I met with limited success and came to understand that he wasn't a 80's pop singer but the poor ER doctor assigned to my case.
I understood that I was now a "case," and consented to give blood, urine, or whatever they wanted.
Back at the space station, I had examined my wallet, which seemed to be missing about fifty dollars, but was otherwise in tact. My initial working theory was that Vernonawhatever had poisoned or drugged me and that her boyfriend had decided to un-pay the piper.
Later, after I slept for a few hours, I found a receipt in my wallet that provided fresh clues. Apparently, I purchased a large pack of AAAA batteries and a $95 bottle of scotch at Costco. I have no idea what the batteries were for, or what happened to them, but I'm pretty sure I know what happened to the scotch.
The amended theory is that I took Valissa to the park and got into the scotch. It's possible that, at some point, I decided to take some acid or something. I don't know anything for sure, but it's possible. Either that, or the alcohol trauma was deep enough to produce vivid and convincing hallucinations. Even more terrifying; it seems to have knocked some chunks out of my memory in a few points prior to when I started drinking. I don't remember buying the batteries and scotch, but that happened on the way to the gig. I also don't remember updating a database table for work, but when I looked, it had been updated, and I'm the only one with access.
Saturday night, I managed to screw up some courage and make an effort to get to an AA meeting, but it was closed! When I was in AA before, I think I'd actually heard someone in a meeting speculating on how much that would suck; now I can bear witness true. Much. It sucks MUCH.
I was actually thinking about this part in Romans where Paul says, "Oh wretched man am I. Who will deliver me from this body of death?" Of course, the traditional answer is, "Jesus Christ," but in this instance, it turned out to be Paul S.---unwitting emissary of God.
Mr. S. was also expecting to attend the "regular" Saturday night meeting, so we were basically in the same boat, important difference being he had intel on a clandestine NA meeting being held in the area, and he asked me if I wanted to follow him there. I said no, but I would do it anyway.
It was a great meeting. The group had a lot of really insightful stuff to say on the topic. I did my best to lay out the basics of my situation, and everyone was very supportive and welcoming. The only hitch was when the chair invited me to "pray us out," I said sure, and punted with The Lord's, which triggered the hippy I was holding hands with. Apparently he had some sort of allergy to Christianity. He wrenched his hand out of mine and took a few steps back before saying, "not Christian.. not Christian."
The chair suggested "The Third Step Prayer." I apologized for not having memorized that one, and in mercy, the chair took it to the floor for me. It might have been a pretty good prayer, but I didn't hear it because my mind went into overdrive trying to figure out what kind of unspeakable torments the Bride of Christ could possibly have visited on this poor hippy to freak him out so much. Then again, after reflecting on a lifetime spent in the company of my fellow Presbyterians, I could perhaps hazard a number of guesses.
In spite of his frailty, or maybe even because of it, I asked him to sponsor me. He seemed to know the program, and I figure I can be honest with him because his testimony would never stand up in court.
I'm cautiously optimistic about concluding a third day of sobriety. I hear rumors that an AA meeting is being held in the same location this evening, so I'm going to give that a shot. I've been to a NA meeting, and an AA meeting (just to cover all the bases,) and the plan is to commit the next 30 days to AA and the 1st step.
As the Way Opens,
StAnthonysFire
Day 3
Member
Join Date: Aug 2014
Posts: 18
That is some wild ride, and read. You are clearly of high intellect, and we all know that has nothing to do with sobriety.
I like your plan. After mulling around in my head for a few days, a 30-day plan sounded good to me too. The planning stage has taken longer than I thought. There is a lot of reflecting and shoring up of one's foundation.
All the best to you.
I like your plan. After mulling around in my head for a few days, a 30-day plan sounded good to me too. The planning stage has taken longer than I thought. There is a lot of reflecting and shoring up of one's foundation.
All the best to you.
Member
Join Date: Mar 2013
Location: Chicago, IL
Posts: 206
You're setting the bar pretty high with your first post - I'm looking forward to reading more if this is how you are three days out! Welcome to SR. Lots of great support to be had here, 24/7. You won't ever find our doors locked.
Member
Join Date: Apr 2015
Location: Texas
Posts: 108
I second everyone's comments about your post! Thanks for keeping us on our seats as reading through your post. We are all very sorry you had a scary weekend and are here for you, whenever and however you need it. AA meetings have been helping me a lot.
Welcome to SR!
Welcome to SR!
Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: May 2015
Location: San Antonio, Texas
Posts: 7
I made it through the work day without drinking. I owe a large debt of gratitude to the nation of India for producing a billion people who suffer from the delusion that they speak English, when in fact, they do nothing of the sort. I was well beyond the point where I would have made myself a large *lemonade just to cope with their nonsense. Like I said, the Everclear is all gone, so I just got a diet coke and decided to stay sober at them. I held forth for about another hour but it was just too much so I faked technical difficulties and went outside to look at the car.
I used to wonder about DWI stories I'd hear in AA. I'd pride myself in my refusal to drive drunk and how I was always careful to have a ride or drink where I was going to sleep. I'm not so smug since Friday/Saturday. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't be suprised if some of them looked down on me the same way. I skipped the drunk driving stage and went straight for scotch-guzzling blackout acid-trip driving. At least drunk drivers are usually at least somewhat aware of what happened. I thought everything was cool until I glanced at my wheels and thought, "Oh, hey... that's new." Apparently, I was using a low curb as a sort of hand-rail to find my way down the street at some point. Both of my driver's side tires were worn down to the steel belt and the wheel rims were ground down to the tops of the recessed lug-nuts. Part of me is scared somebody videoed that and I'll wind up on YouTube. Then again, I'm so sick, I hope they did because I'd kind of like to see it. It looks like the kind of thing that made a lot of sparks.
Instead of returning to my work with the snake-charmers like I'm paid to do, I decided that I should have the wheels looked at. On the way, I stopped at the cleaners to drop off my kilt and prince-charlie jacket, that the good people at the ER had put in a trash bag for me. The poor girl at the counter was visibly disturbed by the stench. I apologized and said I would just burn them instead, but she said it wasn't as bad as some of the rodeo guys stuff. Still, I'm pretty sure it was, and she was just being kind. Add another amends to the list.
It turns out I have two cracked wheels, two bent wheels, and three ruined tires, or, as an optimist would look at it, I have one GOOD tire. The next delimma was that they did not have any of this stuff in stock, and the manager said he would not be able to sleep tonight if he let me drive it away like that. I called my black-belt alanon and asked her if she could pick me up, or should I just call a cab or walk. She picked me up and even stopped at the auto-parts place for some Techron so I can try to get my neglected motorcycle running.
I did manage to get the old dragon turned over and sort-of running, and since I had a few minutes left before I had to leave for the meeting, I fell asleep on the couch and didn't wake up until well after it was over.
I guess that's a wrap for day three. I forget. When does the pink-cloud thing kick in?
As the Way Opens,
StAnthonysFire
D3
I used to wonder about DWI stories I'd hear in AA. I'd pride myself in my refusal to drive drunk and how I was always careful to have a ride or drink where I was going to sleep. I'm not so smug since Friday/Saturday. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't be suprised if some of them looked down on me the same way. I skipped the drunk driving stage and went straight for scotch-guzzling blackout acid-trip driving. At least drunk drivers are usually at least somewhat aware of what happened. I thought everything was cool until I glanced at my wheels and thought, "Oh, hey... that's new." Apparently, I was using a low curb as a sort of hand-rail to find my way down the street at some point. Both of my driver's side tires were worn down to the steel belt and the wheel rims were ground down to the tops of the recessed lug-nuts. Part of me is scared somebody videoed that and I'll wind up on YouTube. Then again, I'm so sick, I hope they did because I'd kind of like to see it. It looks like the kind of thing that made a lot of sparks.
Instead of returning to my work with the snake-charmers like I'm paid to do, I decided that I should have the wheels looked at. On the way, I stopped at the cleaners to drop off my kilt and prince-charlie jacket, that the good people at the ER had put in a trash bag for me. The poor girl at the counter was visibly disturbed by the stench. I apologized and said I would just burn them instead, but she said it wasn't as bad as some of the rodeo guys stuff. Still, I'm pretty sure it was, and she was just being kind. Add another amends to the list.
It turns out I have two cracked wheels, two bent wheels, and three ruined tires, or, as an optimist would look at it, I have one GOOD tire. The next delimma was that they did not have any of this stuff in stock, and the manager said he would not be able to sleep tonight if he let me drive it away like that. I called my black-belt alanon and asked her if she could pick me up, or should I just call a cab or walk. She picked me up and even stopped at the auto-parts place for some Techron so I can try to get my neglected motorcycle running.
I did manage to get the old dragon turned over and sort-of running, and since I had a few minutes left before I had to leave for the meeting, I fell asleep on the couch and didn't wake up until well after it was over.
I guess that's a wrap for day three. I forget. When does the pink-cloud thing kick in?
As the Way Opens,
StAnthonysFire
D3
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