a really personal thing
I really freaked my boyfriend out yesterday. To be honest, I really freaked myself out. I think its something that should have happened, though.
I have never been a big drinker. I tend to avoid alcohol like the plague. My dad was an alcoholic, and while he wasn't abusive to me that I recall, his addiction did cause various problems for our family, and I don't want that to happen to be. I know how easily I could become attached to alcohol, and I don't want that to happen to me.
Shawn is a drinker. He used to be a big big drinker, but he has slowed down, and he's slowed down even more since we started dating. He knows his drinking makes me worry, but he also knows that I don't mind if he drinks as long as he's responsible and safe about it.
Sometimes, when I'm with him he encourages me to drink. I don't usually drink, but sometimes he'll buy me one or open one for me even though I say no. And then I take it--which is my fault. I can just as easily continue to say no and not take it.
On Saturday, we went to a Halloween party. I had two Sex on the Beach, one really strong shot, and three jello shots. I remember being disappointed when I found the Strawber-Ritas and the Lime-a-Ritas in the fridge because it was late and I kinda wanted those too. Yesterday night, I went to the fridge because I wanted a drink. We had a Mike's Hard, and I wanted it. I was disappointed when there was only one in the fridge, but we also had some daiquiris in the freezer and I figured I'd have some of those later.
Shawn followed me, and made a joke about, wow, me drinking two days in a row.
I realized exactly what I was doing, and put the alcohol back. He tried to stop me and said that he wasn't serious, he was just joking, I can still drink. I knew that, but I'd realized something. I wanted the alcohol. I put it back, and I wanted it. I freaked the fuck out, and cried and hyperventilated on him for at least half an hour. I was this close to an anxiety attack. It was getting hard for me to breathe, and I literally couldn't talk. I stuttered all over the place. Even when I was done freaking out, I still couldn't handle him leaving for more than a few seconds. He went to get a glass of water, and when he came back less than a minute later, I was crying again and I clung to him hard.
I talked it out with him on those few occasions that I could talk, and he offered to take out all the alcohol. I said no. He offered to stop drinking for me. I said no. He offered to stop drinking for us. I said 'I appreciate the thought, but no. If you stop drinking, I want you to stop drinking for yourself. I don't want you to stop for me. I don't want you to stop for us. I want you to stop for you, and because you want to. I don't want you to resent me or our relationship for making you stop drinking. That is something you need to do for yourself.'
He tried to tell me that what I was going through wasn't a big deal, that everyone goes through it, that I wasn't drinking every day and Saturday was a one-off because it was a party. But I was scared that two days would turn into three days, three days could turn into four days, and I still wanted that drink. I didn't want water. I didn't want pop. I didn't want juice. I still wanted alcohol. And I recognized that, and it terrified me.
I told him the one thing he could do for me was keep me away from that fridge. Just keep me away from it.
And he did.
When we went to bed, I clung to him hard. When I woke up at 4am, I was thirsty and kinda woke him up when I started to get out of bed. I told him I wanted some water. He stopped me, and got it for me. I started to cry when he left. When I got my water and went back to bed, I clung right back onto him. I woke up a little while later when the alarm went off. When he came back, I clung on him again.
Just the thought of alcohol makes me feel sick. I feel grateful to him for helping me out last night (and inadvertently helping me to that realization, even if I did freak out hard), and I love him so terribly much. I will admit to crying as I wrote this.
I still want that fucking drink, and it scares me.
I have never been a big drinker. I tend to avoid alcohol like the plague. My dad was an alcoholic, and while he wasn't abusive to me that I recall, his addiction did cause various problems for our family, and I don't want that to happen to be. I know how easily I could become attached to alcohol, and I don't want that to happen to me.
Shawn is a drinker. He used to be a big big drinker, but he has slowed down, and he's slowed down even more since we started dating. He knows his drinking makes me worry, but he also knows that I don't mind if he drinks as long as he's responsible and safe about it.
Sometimes, when I'm with him he encourages me to drink. I don't usually drink, but sometimes he'll buy me one or open one for me even though I say no. And then I take it--which is my fault. I can just as easily continue to say no and not take it.
On Saturday, we went to a Halloween party. I had two Sex on the Beach, one really strong shot, and three jello shots. I remember being disappointed when I found the Strawber-Ritas and the Lime-a-Ritas in the fridge because it was late and I kinda wanted those too. Yesterday night, I went to the fridge because I wanted a drink. We had a Mike's Hard, and I wanted it. I was disappointed when there was only one in the fridge, but we also had some daiquiris in the freezer and I figured I'd have some of those later.
Shawn followed me, and made a joke about, wow, me drinking two days in a row.
I realized exactly what I was doing, and put the alcohol back. He tried to stop me and said that he wasn't serious, he was just joking, I can still drink. I knew that, but I'd realized something. I wanted the alcohol. I put it back, and I wanted it. I freaked the fuck out, and cried and hyperventilated on him for at least half an hour. I was this close to an anxiety attack. It was getting hard for me to breathe, and I literally couldn't talk. I stuttered all over the place. Even when I was done freaking out, I still couldn't handle him leaving for more than a few seconds. He went to get a glass of water, and when he came back less than a minute later, I was crying again and I clung to him hard.
I talked it out with him on those few occasions that I could talk, and he offered to take out all the alcohol. I said no. He offered to stop drinking for me. I said no. He offered to stop drinking for us. I said 'I appreciate the thought, but no. If you stop drinking, I want you to stop drinking for yourself. I don't want you to stop for me. I don't want you to stop for us. I want you to stop for you, and because you want to. I don't want you to resent me or our relationship for making you stop drinking. That is something you need to do for yourself.'
He tried to tell me that what I was going through wasn't a big deal, that everyone goes through it, that I wasn't drinking every day and Saturday was a one-off because it was a party. But I was scared that two days would turn into three days, three days could turn into four days, and I still wanted that drink. I didn't want water. I didn't want pop. I didn't want juice. I still wanted alcohol. And I recognized that, and it terrified me.
I told him the one thing he could do for me was keep me away from that fridge. Just keep me away from it.
And he did.
When we went to bed, I clung to him hard. When I woke up at 4am, I was thirsty and kinda woke him up when I started to get out of bed. I told him I wanted some water. He stopped me, and got it for me. I started to cry when he left. When I got my water and went back to bed, I clung right back onto him. I woke up a little while later when the alarm went off. When he came back, I clung on him again.
Just the thought of alcohol makes me feel sick. I feel grateful to him for helping me out last night (and inadvertently helping me to that realization, even if I did freak out hard), and I love him so terribly much. I will admit to crying as I wrote this.
I still want that fucking drink, and it scares me.