about me. about my drinking. first entry.
i figure starting a journal to vent anonymously and meet people who are going through a similar experience is a good idea. i'm just going to start at the beginning, when it comes to my drinking.
i drank for the first time when i was 14, i think. (well you know - DRANK drank. i had probably snuck beer before, but i'm not counting that.) tequila, at my older brother's house. that first drinking experience was somewhat negative, but still exciting. negative because when i was in the bathroom peeing, my sister-in-law rushed in and threw up in my lap. and later in the evening, my brother was so drunk he got into bed with me thinking i was his passed-out wife. uncomfortable to say the least.
but it was also exciting. i was much younger than anyone there and i was flattered to be included in the drinking ritual. we were doing tequila shots, complete with lime wedges and salty wrists. it's a bittersweet memory, probably more good than bad, and i didn't get sick or have a hangover the next day. i was so proud of myself for holding my liquor.
i really loved drinking. adored it. from there, i can't remember when or how it progressed in a clear, linear fashion. i snuck wine from the fridge with friends. i snuck liquor from dad's cabinet and tried to water it down so he wouldn't know. by the time i was 16 or 17 my mother started buying me the occasional bottle of liquor for myself. i remember going into the store with her, picking out what i wanted. sometimes we would buy those little shot bottles. and then, when i was around that age, i went through a big break-up with an older boyfriend i had been dating for awhile. mom & i used to buy 6 packs and the two of us would leave dad home alone for "girl time." we'd go sit by the ocean and drink. she was afraid to drink more than 2 beers sometimes, so i always got at least 3 and sometimes even 4.
i'm not sure when it was that the psychologist i was seeing at the time for self-injury saw my alcohol drinking as a problem. i remember they suggested to my mother that i be checked into some sort of alcohol program, and she said no. she didn't think i drank often enough. they told her it had less to do with HOW OFTEN or HOW MUCH i drank, and more to do with WHY and HOW i drank. by this time, i really was getting out of control, with everything in my life.
i remember when i was 16. i had graduated early, and i was getting my first full-time job. the night before my big interview, i drank an entire bottle of coffee flavored liqueur. i woke up feeling horribly ill, but i downed some cereal and went to the interview. i got the job. on the way home i puked out of the driver's side window on the highway going 80. it splattered all over the side of the vehicle. i went to a car wash, and there was an attendant hosing down the vehicles before they went into the wash. i remember how humiliated i felt.
i remember drinking 3/4 a bottle of scotch? or rum? and not even being able to get up from the chair i was sitting in to throw up. i remember just throwing up down the front of my shirt. i still can't remember how i covered that up. keep in mind, this is all between the ages of 14-18. i still lived at home, with what i considered fairly strict parents. i don't know how i got away with it; how i hid it. how they didn't see that i had a serious problem. how they let me have wine and beer, and laughed it off when they caught me sneaking liquor, when i was that age.
i think they finally realized i had a problem when other addictions started causing me trouble. abusing my prescription adavan, given to me for panic attacks. even that took awhile for them to notice. mom knew i took them sometimes just because i really loved how they made me feel. she would shake her head or "tsk" at me, with a slight grin on her face. but when i ran away from home one weekend, popping god-knows-how-many of those adavans, drinking alcohol, sleeping at guys' houses, they had to face up to what was happening to me. that was the second time i was hospitalized. or when i started stealing pills from family members, not even knowing what they were for, just hoping they would feel good - mixing them, taking however many i felt like.
it was one addiction after another for me. it started with sex. then cutting. alcohol. then pills. then dependency in a bad relationship. diet pills. i stopped therapy around the time i was 18, six or seven years ago now. i couldn't afford insurance on my own. i saw a few therapists after the end of a really bad relationship that lasted from 18-21; unfortunately for me, that relationship ended about a month before i could legally buy alcohol on my own.
i moved back in with my parents when the cheating finally ended that relationship, and i did well for a few months. but an incredibly loneliness set in. i had no friends. i had moved from the state i grew up in. they lived in a small town which i never felt i fit into. i was facing debt and legal issues and an ex who refused to let me go even though he had moved on. i fell quickly into a pattern of drinking, smoking, and cutting again. one night i remember thinking seriously about suicide.
that summer, when i was 21 and deep in the grips of something dark, i met a boy. the night we met was completely fueled by desperation, alcohol, lust, and loneliness. we had both come out of relationships where we felt like the victim. our mutual heartbreak was the foundation we built our friendship on, and later, our relationship. we relied heavily on each other and got involved way too quickly. we became best friends and i absolutely seduced him. he was much less experienced than i, but i needed someone to fill the hole that had been left in me.
he already enjoyed drinking quite a bit, though i don't know if he ever had quite the problem with addiction that i had. either way, we weren't good for each other. after i found him, my crutch, i moved out of my parents' house. we spent as much time together as we could possibly manage, and we moved in together after about six months. we drank constantly. every night, every weekend. we were both able to keep our jobs, somehow... we were still in early, high-functioning stages of our alcoholism. it was so much fun. we were partying, having a great time, sharing a lust for life and debauchery. we cut ourselves, we overdosed with sex, we would try any drug that someone was willing to share with us, we drank and drank. we shut out everyone else who had been in our lives... for me, that meant only my parents - i had no friends before i met him. but he burned his bridges and lost some friends that have never forgiven him for walking out on their lives. we definitely pissed plenty of people off with our behavior - but we only cared about each other.
this was nearly 4 years ago. we have been married now for just over 2 years. the alcoholism never really stopped. there were brief periods it seemed to slow down, but it seems to have reached a climax at this point. we are barely able to work. we can't pay our bills because of how much money we spend on alcohol, or while drinking. our families have broken hearts. a few times every month, we shut ourselves into our apartment and go on 4 or 5 day binges, only leaving the house to get more alcohol. we can easily down a bottle of wine each, and split a six-pack. and maybe even start on a 40-oz. we both black out, though i have had that problem for a long time and he's only just started. we both have digestive issues, and i have a highly sensitive stomach - i have hangovers often. this past year, both of us received our first DUI. his license is currently suspended and my court date is still coming up.
i would be an idiot to try and deny my disease any longer. i have to talk about it. i have to address it, and i want to talk about it to people who understand. we can't afford therapy, but i am going to apply for medicaid soon and i think i will seek therapy. my husband is going to be taking classes as part of his sentence, but i will not have to, as my BAC level was lower. but we both need help.
i have read one book on alcoholism, "sober and staying that way" i think it was called. and i just started reading "the heart of addiction" last night. i really like the approach in this new one, "the heart of addiction." it goes against traditional alcoholism thinking, saying that your addiction is not an uncontrollable, purely physical thing. he cites the helplessness and trapped feeling that comes before repeating an addictive behavior, no matter WHAT it is - and he has encouraged patients to isolate what it is that makes THEM feel helpless and out-of-control, what it is that drives them to take control BACK through the use of an addictive behavior.
though my father is likely an alcoholic, or at least was definitely one at some point in the past, i think there is more to my alcoholism than a genetic predisposition to it. i have always had an addictive personality - it's one addiction after another. if i didn't drink, i cut, if i didn't cut, i smoked, if i didn't smoke, i fucked, if i didn't fuck, i made myself puke and never ate. there was always SOMETHING that was "my secret," my dirty little escape that no one knew about. i want to find the roots of my behaviors, the feelings behind my escapes.
i don't really have any "secrets" now, at least not from my husband. he really and truly knows every dirty little secret. alcohol does that. there have been things i really wanted to keep from him, nasty little habits i couldn't kick - sometimes cutting, or pornography, or even a sick curiosity that drives me to cyber-lurk my ex and keep track of his life - but you can't keep secrets when you are drunk. you want to tell everything. and he's my drinking buddy.
but now, i plan on getting & staying sober. this journal is a commitment to that. today is my first day without alcohol. i didn't drink last night, either, but i did drink when i woke up in the morning. there were almost 4 beers left over in the fridge, and i was bored and alone, so i drank them early in the morning, crying like an idiot while my husband slept and missed yet another day of work. but this is it, i want this so bad now. i am going to arm myself for battle and go against this thing. i'm going to figure it out and fight the hell out of it.
i don't really want him to know about this journal, or at least not to read it. i don't know if i'll be able to keep him away from it, but i will try. at least for awhile, until things start getting sorted out. i need some privacy, i need somewhere i can keep to myself. i need a secret, an escape, but hopefully a healthier one.
god, i could keep writing forever, i think. but no one will bother reading this if it's a massive novel. and i'll run out of things to write about, maybe. i'll take a break for a little while and recollect my thoughts, but this journal is going to end up a thorough chronicle, i'm sure of it. i have so many stories, bad and good, so many things i never addressed that need addressing. here's hoping it heals some wounds. maybe i can write a book someday. god knows it could've helped me to have some kind of book about this.