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soberovereasy · 5 years

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124

4 months

4 days

62,300+ calories

$1777+ dollars

177+ hours

When I got to 90 days, I thought, well, I might as well make it to 100. When I got to 100, I thought, well, might as well make it to 3 months. And I’ve just kept going. Save an odd sip of my husbands drink just to try it, I haven’t had a drink of my own ini 124 days (and counting).

People like to ask me if “I miss it” or if it’s “been hard” a lot. I think that sobriety sparks a bit of a curiosity for drinking people, whether they’ve tried a break on their own and struggled or just have never even thought of trying it at all. When alcohol is so ingrained in your lifestyle and culture, it’s really hard to imagine what you’d do without it. That in itself doesn’t mean you’re dependent; it’s just a further symptom of what society has done to romanticize and normalize alcoholism. 1-2 drinks a day is normal, drinking wine is good for your heart, everyone drinks a lot, just get a Michelob Ultra like the fitness people do. A post-race beer re-hydrates you. Drink responsibly. Shots, shots, shots, shots. I’m Irish today. Irish I were drunker. Wine not? Yes way rose.

I think a lot of the stigma associated with alcohol is broken after these few months of a clearer head. I might be repeating myself - sorry - I wanted to write this without reading what I wrote the last time. Once I knew I could no longer drink to get drunk, the idea of drinking all together kind of lost it’s luster. I never drank Miller Lite for the taste! It was one, then another, then another, while I mindlessly emptied tall frosty glasses because it’s just what we did for fun. Eventually that melted into a warm, buzzy feeling where I was ready to take on the world and stay out all night chasing the high. Now, I know that I can never drink like I used to, because I will always be at risk for re-triggering my pancreatitis. I have no permanent damage on my liver, so if I want it to heal and never go back, I can’t drink to get drunk. Goodbye, warm fuzzy feeling.

That makes it so easy, though. It’s so black and white. I have no reason to down cheap beer or chug down the last of a brew I didn’t particularly like just to not waste money. No more boxed wine. I may never have another cocktail, either, save an odd martini if I can stomach the taste, or a craft cocktail on a special occasion. No more grapefruit vodka and sodas by the pool - I’d rather just have a soda straight up with a twist of grapefruit now. The only purpose of a mixed drink like liquor + mixer is to get drunk, period. As drinkers, we like to say it makes a difference. People who would never touch soda in real life will anxiously down a captain and diet with a refreshed, “Ah! That hits the spot!”, as if the captain made the coke taste any better. Have you ever had a Mexican Coke straight from the bottle? That stuff needs nothing else. It’s perfect as is.

I’ve gotten used to, even fond of, bubbly waters. I crack one when I get home with the same ritual that I may have poured myself a glass of wine. I know which ones are better than others - Perrier with Lime is one of my favorites, because of the sexy, slender cans and a strong pop of lime. Topo Chico straight from the glass bottle with a slice of lime in it - just like I used to do with a Corona - is as satisfying as a beer these days. I found Bubly to be a bit bland. Everyone knows La Croix is. I tend to drink those when I want water, but something a little extra.

I’ve tried A/F wines and beers, and still view them as a treat more than anything else. On St Pats I threw an AF stout into my backpack and snuck it into a bar to enjoy amongst the other Irish celebrators. Man, those tables have turned, haven’t they? I used to sneak in wine and liquor to get my buzz on for cheap. Now I’m sneaking in AF options everywhere I go because water is boring and I want to feel like I’m a part of the action.

That’s what you’re really quitting, when you’re not a true addict (we’ll get to that in a second). The alcohol has been fairly easy to kick, save the rare FOMO when I see someone enjoying a large glass of cabernet or pinot grigio at a restaurant. I only really miss the wine - beer and liquor, as much as I enjoyed them, are pretty easy to replace. I’m happy to drink a soda and lime most places, or ask for a MOCKtail at a bar. I keep track of which places offer AF beers and drinks, and suggest them whenever we go out. But the wine, you really can’t replace. The AF wines are fine for the most part, but you’ll never get that out at a restaurant. The whites are better than the reds. I suspect when I do drink again it will be fancy wine and nothing else.

But what you’re really kicking is that feeling of belonging, especially if you regularly hang out with other drinkers. What you’re really adjusting to is a world where you don’t quite fit in anymore. You’ll definitely notice that your friends don’t drink as much as you thought they did…or did they just drink more around you, because you were the instigator? I learned that I was the party planner in our group. I was the one constantly suggesting happy hour or second locations. Whenever I was on my last drink, I was already working on where we’d go get the next one. I was the one who said, “No! Have another! It’s not time to leave yet!” I was always down for whatever. I was a yes girl.

I remember my friend C saying she loved that I was a yes girl. She said, “No matter what, I know I can text you and you’ll be down for something.” And it’s true. I practiced saying yes more often than no because I hated missing out, and I wanted to be the person that everyone went to for a good time. I didn’t want to be left out. So I said yes and yes and yes and yes until I yessed myself into the emergency room. So now what I’m struggling with is, how do you stay the yes girl when your yes is a solid no now?

I’ve chatted with other friends about feeling like we don’t do anything anymore. I’ve mentioned my frustration that because I don’t drink, no one wants to do anything because no one knows what to do. I’m happy to go and sit at a bar with the girls, sipping on whatever I choose for that evening, but I’m not going to suggest it. It makes no sense for me to say, “Happy hour?” if I’m not participating in the happy. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I need to continue being the person that arranges happy hours even in my post-alcohol state, because it’s clear no one else is going to do it. Maybe the only way for me to stop feeling left out is to make sure there’s no way I can be.

My relationships continue to change and evolve in the post-alcohol world as well. I’m now much more annoyed much more quickly by drunk people, and I have little patience for my husband when he comes home after a bourbon-fueled night out. I’ve been short with friends that say they “don’t know what to do” around me - I even get annoyed when they say they don’t feel comfortable drinking around me. I’m sure it’s out of respect of some sort, and I should be grateful that they don’t want to drink instead of encouraging it, but it feels like I’m being treated with kid gloves, and I don’t like it. It makes me feel like I’m fragile in their eyes - and I’m not.

That’s the #1 thing I think I’ve learned so far - I don’t believe I am an alcoholic. I don’t have “cravings” that are uncontrollable. My life is generally better because I’m not drinking, sure, but I haven’t done a complete 180. The doctors told me to quit drinking so I did. It wasn’t difficult. I didn’t do therapy, I didn’t go to AA, I didn’t do anything except quit drinking. And that’s it.

This theory will be tested when I decide to try drinking again. When people ask if I will drink again, my answers vary. It used to be, “Oh, I’m sure I will.” it’s evolved now to, “I dunno. I mean, probably I’ll have a glass of wine every once in a while, but I don’t really see the point of it anymore.” The longer I go without, the easier it is to. I LOVE all of the weight I’ve lost, and the bloat, and how people are constantly commenting that I look great. That feeling is better than any 150 calorie glass of wine, period. And I’ve found enjoyable substitutes, so I don’t miss the ritual. Because that’s all it really is, isn’t it? A ritual that we go through. Grab the wine glass, pop the bottle, pour a glass, sit down and relax. That ritual doesn’t change at all when it’s an AF wine or a bottle of cranberry juice. It’s just healthier now, and guilt free.

I’m traveling this week, which is why I wanted to get this all out there before I left. Because I might drink on my trip. This is the first time I’ve been a tourist alcohol free, and since going to breweries and wineries is such a big part of my past travel, I don’t know how it will go. If I were traveling solo, I don’t think I’d be tempted at all, funnily enough. But since I’ll be with my husband, I can see a time where I might have a small beer flight or split a bottle of wine. I don’t know. And since I haven’t had a drink, I don’t even know if I’ll enjoy it anymore. Every time I sip an old fashioned my husband ordered, it’s so sweet and syrupy I can’t imagine having a whole glass. I tasted his margarita the other night and went WHOOOBOY there’s a lot of tequila in that! My senses are heightened, and even the smell makes me turn my nose up. What if I don’t even care for wine anymore?

I do think that trying alcohol again after you’ve abstained for a good time period is part of the process. The addicts will call it relapse after even one sip. I’ve always thought of it as a video game - when you fall off the mountain in zelda and die, you don’t start the whole game over. You’re back on the mountain where you left off, and you keep playing. I don’t think I’ll relapse to the point of a full binge, though. I’ve done a lot of soul searching. And I’ve put it to bed - it feels like the part of my life devoted to alcohol is truly over. It’s time for a new part. But I do feel like I have to re-explore my world with alcohol in it to see if it can still be in my life, or if I’m done with it for good. If I drink a glass of wine and go, meh, I could do without I think, that’s great because I won’t WONDER anymore. The FOMO becomes the JOMO - the joy of missing out.

The fact is, with all of my free time I have a lot of time to think about my life, and where it’s going, and what I’m doing. I read an article recently about this brand called “Outdoor Voices,” whose motto is simply #DoingThings. The Doing Things lifestyle is pretty straightforward - do something every day to move your body and enjoy yourself. The idea that exercise is a chore is one that has long followed me, since back in the day when I spent two hours at the gym every day to maintain perfect abs and tiny arms. It was just something I had to do in order to look good. That same day, I got on my spin bike with the thought that I was getting to workout, that I had an amazing body that had the capability to work out, that I felt better than I’ve felt in years and instead of spending 30 minutes on a patio drinking rose, I was doing 30 minutes of hard cardio to better myself. It’s like something shifted in my mind and now I’m able to workout and feel THANKFUL that I can do it, that I feel good doing it, and not grateful that it’s over.

I’m picking up piano again. I’ve been reading and playing video games. I’m going to start taking an adult ballet class. When it’s beautiful out, I go on a bike ride, either with my husband or just solo to clear my head. I work out. I take walks. There are so many things I felt like I didn’t have time for, when in reality I was sitting on my couch, nursing a glass of cab and watching netflix over and over, because I’d forgotten what I’d seen the night before.

My sobriety is good. I enjoy being sober.

I think the hangup here is that sobriety gives me something “special” that makes me different from others. It’s like a secret club. I felt this on St Pats, like when you make eye contact with other sober people (mostly servers, ha), with a knowing glance - these people are idiots. So if I break that sobriety for a glass of wine or two a month, am I less special? I can’t say I’m “sober” anymore, but there’s no in-between. I’m mostly sober. I don’t drink “that much.” I’m not really a big drinker. That’s so decidedly less special, but I don’t know why I’m so caught up on the label. Why isn’t there a label for someone who lives a mostly sober life, plays by the rules of sobriety, and ever so often enjoys a small glass of wine in moderation? Semi-sober. Sober-ish. THERE NEEDS TO BE A WORD.

Because in my heart, I’ve done the steps to make these changes. I’ve been living a new and fresh life from a new perspective, and I love the way I am feeling and looking. And I want to chase THAT feeling, not the one at the bottom of a wine glass. Maybe I *do* want to be completely sober. Who knows.

#sober #soberliving #soberish

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soberovereasy · 5 years

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what i’ve learned (so far)

We’re 58 days in, according to my little “nomo” sober app. 1 month, 4 weeks, 15 hours, and 33 minutes since I officially had my last drink.

I'll be real. I’ve tried a sip of my husband's beer and I had a bit of a crisis of self after I took some Nyquil (DOES IT COUNT???) but for the most part, sobriety hasn’t been difficult. That’s why I don’t really think I’m an alcoholic - they gave me weird meds and a stack of resources, and instead I quit them and tossed the packet. I don’t want to waste my life talking about my feelings in a shitty church basement, sipping tepid burned bean water and wondering when I get to leave. I know that AA is an amazing resource for a lot of people, but without even attending one meeting, I knew it wasn’t my style.

But after the full-on intervention I had, surely all of these strangers I’d never talked to before were right. I was certainly an addict! I’m in the hospital, after all!

I had my follow up with my PCP about a month after my incident, and he said “Does this mean you can never drink again? Nah. You just can’t drink like you used to.” He referred me to a guy who looked at my blood and ultrasound and said my fatty liver wasn’t consistent with alcoholism or damage. No long term damage, thankfully, but also no leads on why my liver insisted on being so fatty. He said I should never drink again (probably thought I was an alcoholic too). I know that these doctors see things. I know that they have to recommend the most extreme measure because THEY know that people don’t listen. People are dumb. Addicts are dumber.

I haven’t had another drink, though, because I haven’t had the opportunity arise where I wanted one. Sure, I’ve missed having a glass of wine with dinner and NYE was absolutely boring as hell, but for the most part what I’ve gained from sobriety is far better than what I’ve lost.

1. I feel great. I forgot what living without a hangover felt like. For me, being a little ill and feeling gross and tired all day was just a part of life. Now, I’m waking up at a normal time, going to bed before midnight, and my body is performing like it’s supposed to. I’m in a better mood most of the time. I’m sleeping like a log. I’m PEEING REGULARLY. It’s actually scary how rarely I peed before.

2. I’ve lost weight. Like, 15 pounds without even trying. Between the empty calories of alcohol and the midnight snacks (apparently drinking made me ravenous), I was able to drop weight with no problem when I stopped without changing my eating habits. I probably cut my calories in half, at LEAST. I also suspect that when your body is able to quit working on detoxing, it can focus on other things.

3. I’m not as bloated. You can tell, too. I slipped on some of my favorite loafers and they fit like a DREAM now. Three months ago, I could barely shove my fat feet in them. I thought I had “gained foot weight.” Nope, I was just a bloated cow. In fact, EVERYTHING fits better. Pants. Shoes. Skirts I haven’t been able to zip now slide up like they were made for me. I’m actually enjoying buying clothes and getting dressed again.

4. I feel hot. Seriously, I just feel great. I’m starting to feel sexy again. It’s weird. I’m interested to see how much more I can do once I start working out and eating healthy.

5. Oh yeah, working out? I do that now. Mostly because I am trying to do a Peloton challenge and do a class every day, but I actually have time and energy to do them.

6. TIME. Wow, I have so much time now. It helps that my friends have been out of town and busy, so I haven’t had much to turn down. I do get lonely, and I feel a little lame spending my time at home by myself, but I don’t mind. I’ve saved enough money that I bought myself a nice pair of shoes. I picked up a piano book so I can start playing again. I’ve sat down and read books at night. I started playing my Playstation for the first time since I bought it.

I could go on. Socially, hot tea or soda with cranberry have been a saving grace. At home, I usually sip on some diet cranberry or vitamin water. It’s funny, I used to bring home Vitamin Waters to help me nurse my hangovers. Now, I drink them as a substitute to wine.

I did find a few non-alcoholic or alcohol-removed wines that are pretty decent. The Ariel cabernet wasn’t half bad, and the Free Brut is delicious. They’re still just as expensive as a bottle of wine, of course, so it’s really just for special occasions or house parties, but it’s nice to have a substitute - and you can drink the whole bottle for like, 150 calories. It’s insane.

For the most part, my friends have been super supportive as well. I only have one that I suspect is leaving me out of stuff. We used to go drink just to have something to do or to wash our days away. I understand why our relationship is going to change a little, because I also think that I reflect some of her own choices to drink and it can’t be easy to confront those things. On the other hand, I have a few friends who have cut back on their drinking out of inspiration (including my own husband!) and it makes me proud to see how much better they’re feeling.

I still think it’s absolute bullshit that I’m the one that went to the hospital for pancreatitis when there are so many people who drink far more than I do and are far more awful.

Oh, that’s one more thing I’ve gained. My memory.

I find it kind of embarrassing how many memories I’ve drowned in the past. Nights in Paris got fuzzy after too many red wines. Happy Hour conversations repeated because I didn’t recall what we’d talked about the night before. I often got irritated at my husband because he would tell me we’d already talked about something or I’d ask him a question he’d already answered. When I think about how much of my life I have missed because my brain was physically incapable of making memories, I get a little sad. No more memories will be lost now.

So before I go - I want to address why it’s so easy to not drink right now. I think the main thing is, I know that I can’t drink like I used to, or it could kill me. I know how much it hurts and I know how much it costs, so I can never drink to get drunk ever again. I will likely never have another Miller Lite or vodka soda. So when I think about having my first drink after this long drought, a $2 house wine isn’t gonna cut it. I don’t know that I could even enjoy it! If I truly can only drink for the love of the taste, and not for the buzz or for the escape of drunkeness, then it makes no sense to quit my streak for cheap alcohol. I’m not going to throw away two months of feeling great for a glass of wine at Chili’s or a free beer at a mixer. I have to be choosy. I get to decide for myself how I’m going to move forward.

There’s also this voice in my head that worries that if I stray, I could go back to my old ways. That then, I’ll prove that I actually *am* alcoholic and I haven’t got anything to be proud of. That I actually need to go to meetings or therapy and there’s nothing special about my ability to cut off my drinking. That’s a distant fear, but a concern nonetheless. Because it’s so easy to justify Drink #2. #8. #....oh crap, my bill is how much? As much as I miss happy hour at my favorite restaurant and meeting friends downstairs at the bar for a glass of wine, I also am proud of the progress made.

I dunno. I need a sober friend to talk about all of this with, someone who used to drink and doesn’t now, because I’m feeling a lot of things that I know most people don’t understand. My friend A is a good source, and she checks in with me often, but I’d love to go have a tea with someone and talk about how dumb everyone looked on New Years, or how awkward it is when someone offers me a drink and I have to say “I don’t drink”. At least you can say that to strangers. It’s the people who you DO know that always make a bigger deal about it (or ask if you’re pregnant. NO!).

Speaking of pregnant - I might be going to Mexico in March with friends and I’m thinking of getting a fake pregnant belly so the language barrier doesn’t end me up in the hospital. No sir, just the soda. Thank you.

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soberovereasy · 6 years

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7 Days.

Seven days sober. I��m honestly not sure it counts, since I spent most of them in the hospital physically unable to get my hands on wine, but somehow I’m still proud.

It’s the longest I’ve been sober in years.

That’s a sobering thought, to be honest. I liked to say that I had things under control and I could “stop any time” but I never did. I probably had the soberest days spending time with my family, who didn’t drink, but even then I’d usually have a glass or two at night.

The last time I can remember being intentionally sober was maybe 2012? I was doing a Jillian Michaels workout plan and she said NO BOOZE, PERIOD. I wanted to get ripped, so I continued to go out with friends but had the bartenders make me sprites that looked like fancy cocktails. When I went to a wedding a month later, all anyone could talk about was how great I looked.

Why didn’t I bottle that feeling and associate it with the effects that no alcohol had on my body? I had worked hard at the gym and followed a diligent diet, so there was no doubt in my mind that I earned that praise. But never once did I attribute part of that to the alcohol. I probably had six glasses of wine at that wedding in celebration of “the new me”.

There may have been bouts of sober between then and now, but not long enough or impactful enough that I remember them. When the last time you can remember having a long, sober break was 6+ years ago, then it’s no surprise when someone says you’re an alcoholic.

I’m still struggling with that term. Alcoholic. I’ve started reading Reddit threads about people struggling with recovery, relapsing, celebrating milestones, and I just don’t feel CONNECTED to any of it. I downloaded a book to my Kindle called “Sober Stick Figure: A Memoir.” It’s hilarious (as are the accompanying terrible drawings) and I’m enjoying this girl’s story about how she spiraled into alcoholism. I’m assuming at some point she talks about getting out, I’m not that far in yet. And while I recognize some stupid things from my past, like driving when I shouldn’t, barely sloshing through work, going home with questionable men...so many other things don’t resonate with me at all. That desperation feeling to get a drink in me. That emptiness and confusion when I’m not drunk. I feel like I’m a normal, functioning adult when I’m sober. I’m happy. I occasionally have stress or anxiety, but it doesn’t consume me. I’m content to read a book on the couch with a cup of tea. I love going out, but it’s not part of my identity.

I think that’s why I’m still so startled and uninterested in the AA thing. Perhaps this is naive of me but...I feel like I can just...stop. I made it seven days and I feel no different.

Earlier today in a Facebook group of women we were celebrating little victories. I posted that I felt it was almost insignificant, but that I was seven days sober. A few recovering alcoholics chimed in and said it was great! That the first week can be some of the hardest! It made me feel better that I shared, but still disconnected from the entire concept of sobriety as a culture or club.

Maybe that’s just it for me. Sobriety isn’t a group or a diet or a fad, it’s just a lifestyle change. I don’t really need fanfare and recognition for just doing something that I have to do to maintain my health. I dunno. I’m still very shruggy and meh about it.

I also fully expect my friends to grow tired of me dropping the “i’m an alcoholic” as a joke, too. Joking is my way of coping. Hopefully they remember this and don’t want to stab me six months into this.

#sober #soberlife #soberliving #oneweeksober

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soberovereasy · 6 years

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I would rather go through life sober, believing I am an alcoholic, than go through life drunk, trying to convince myself that I am not.

Anonymous (via recovery-experts)

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soberovereasy · 6 years

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Sobered.

One week ago, I was doubled over a toilet until my body had nothing left to give. It didn’t feel alcohol related - I’d had half a glass of wine, so I assumed it was something I had eaten. I spent the rest of the night writhing back and forth in my bed with a heating pad, fluctuating between chills and sweats and thinking I should call the ER. My back hurt. My stomach hurt. I couldn’t find a comfortable position for anything.

The entire next day, I was still just uncomfortable and in pain. I said if I still felt pain by Thursday, I’d call the doctor. When I woke up still in pain, I took the first appointment with my PCP and went through a series of blood tests, urine tests, and an xray. He wasn’t sure what was wrong, but said I was so dehydrated that I should probably just go ahead and go to the ER and check in so I could get fluids, and then they’d do a CT scan there to figure out what was going on. He mentioned colitis or IBS as a possibility.

I sat in the ER waiting room for two and a half hours, uncomfortably shifting around waiting for them to call me over. I was starving - I’d had a handful of cereal and a piece of bread with peanut butter on it the day before. I was thirsty - my mouth was so dry my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth when I opened it. “The First 48″ blared in the background and I watched a man drip blood all over the waiting room so he could jump the line. My friends were texting me asking if they needed to come keep me company, if I needed anything, My father-in-law popped in for an hour or so to keep me company, he himself barely out of the ER from the weekend before with liver problems.

Finally, they called my name and a terrifying little lady started taking my blood. I told her I was a faint risk and she said, “No you’re not! If you faint, I will yell!” She was scary enough that I did not, in fact, faint - although I was very dizzy once we were done. I finally had a room available. She sent me down the hall with a cup for urine and then I checked into room 108.

If you’ve never spent hours laying on an ER cot, I can’t say I recommend it. Sure, the back raises and lowers but it’s manual, so you either have to have someone do it for you or you get in trouble (like I did) for adjusting it yourself and then messing up all of your vitals because you’re moving around too much. They transported me to get a CT scan, where a guy pumped me full of something that made me feel like I was peeing my pants while he scanned my innards. They got an IV going with fluids and taught me how to use the TV remote. Comedy Central was having a marathon of The Office, so I sat back and watched that happily while I waited for any news. My husband got off work early and came to sit with me, which finally appeased my friends who were still worried that I shouldn’t be alone.

To be honest, I didn’t mind being alone. It’s not like I was doing anything spectacular. I was falling in and out of sleep, taking little catnaps in between the various string of doctors and nurses that filtered in and out of my room. Finally, my doctor came in and asked about my drinking habits.

“Do you drink? How much? How often?”

I didn’t use to drink this much. I was a late bloomer, actually. You always hear stories of alcoholics starting at the age of 8, breaking into their parent’s cabinets while they were out. My parents didn’t drink. Most of my friends in High School didn’t drink, and those who did never pressured me to. It wasn’t until I was in Australia for a semester in college that I tried my first drink. It was legal there - I was 20, the drinking age was 18, so I didn’t feel guilty - and I ordered a Vodka Cruiser, a light pink malt beverage that tasted sweet and bubbly. I’d continue to try different drinks in Australia (I did NOT understand beer at all) and when I got back to the US, my roommate and I would buy bottles of vodka and hide them in our shoe boxes to make martinis; aka, mixing bottles of green apple or cosmopolitan into tall, triangular glasses.

I’m not even sure I got that drunk in college. There may have been a few nights, but it wasn’t until after college when I started working the night shift at a news station that I really started drinking properly. We’d get off at 10 p.m. and go straight to the bar, often staying out until 2 or 3 a.m. since we didn’t have to be back at work until 1. I wasn’t smart back then; none of us were. We drove and invited questionable men to our apartments, we’d mix wine and weed and sneak booze into our cups at work on long nights. Those were some of the best years of my life - I should be dead, but they were fun.

My early 20s evolved into my late 20s, and while my drinking habits changed, the volume did not. We spent our Saturday and Sundays huddled around champagne buckets and called it “brunch”, we left work early to take advantage of the best happy hour prices, everyone would bring a bottle of wine to hang out in someone’s living room and none remained by the end of the night. We got a little wiser, utilizing Ubers instead of driving after drinking, but there was always a second location. One or two cocktails before dinner. Two, three glasses of wine over sushi. Splitting a bottle of red at the wine bar down the street as a nightcap. Rarely did my friends hang out when alcohol WASN’T involved. It’s not that we don’t like each other without it, it’s just that it was so ingrained into our culture that everything we did either started with, or led to, a drink. Even morning yoga was followed by a boozy brunch that completely canceled out anything healthy we had done.

Fast forward to the past year. My husband and I moved downtown, so now we’re in the heart of everything bar related. It feels like we live in a hotel, so I spent most evenings drinking several glasses of wine unwinding while I watched TV or cooked. On Sundays, we’d ride bikes to local breweries. On Mondays, we’d go to this beer bar that has a club where you get rewarded if you drink 200 different beers. Wednesdays were reserved for wine on the patio of our favorite fancy restaurant, and on Thursdays, my work had happy hour starting at 3:30 p.m. After that, I met my girlfriends for happy hour, where we rarely ate and I often stumbled home with less money, memories, and probably brain cells. Stumbled home where, I’d pour myself another glass of wine and pass out on the couch.

But I didn’t have a problem. I just liked drinking.

So how much do I drink?

5 to 6 nights a week, I said. Several glasses a night. This was a conservative estimate. These days, it was more like 6-7 nights a week, and at least 4-5 glasses of wine at home alone. I could sit at my favorite happy hour spot and down four glasses of pinot grigio without batting an eyelid, then go home and drink another 2 to 3 glasses straight from a box. Those boxes of wine were probably my downfall, looking back. It’s like a soda machine for booze.

That’s when they told me they suspected I had “alcohol-induced pancreatitis”.

They said they were keeping me overnight to monitor me and a room would be ready soon.

After an hour or so, they rolled me up to the third floor and I got to lay in a real bed (life-saving, to be honest). I wasn’t allowed any fluids or food (although I snuck a bit of water) and I had to pull my IV around if I wanted to go to the bathroom or walk around. I had to wear one of those ugly gowns. They hooked me up to an EKG so they could monitor my heart rate, since it had been high all day. My husband and I watched more episodes of The Office before my nurse came in and pumped me full of morphine and I fell asleep.

What I still remember is the pain. The pain from the days before. The pain from not being able to find a comfortable position. My husband had brought me fuzzy slippers and my pillow from home, but I still tossed and turned uncomfortably in-between morphine shots. They checked my vitals every three hours, so a deep sleep was never really on the table. Whenever someone asked about my pain, I’d usually say “uncomfortable”, because that was the best way I knew to describe it. If I could find a decent position, it was a 4-5. When I moved at all, it spiked to a 7-8. I just felt shitty. There’s no other way to put it, I was in pain, and I wanted it to be over.

The next day, a doctor would come in with four other people and basically throw down an intervention. She called me an alcoholic and told me I had to go to AA, and therapy to address the underlying depression issues I had related to alcohol. She was harsh, she was a little mean, and then I never saw her again. A lady came in with a pamphlet of “resources” a little later and that was it.

The entire thing was shocking - this woman didn’t know me. Sure, I drank a lot. But I never saw myself as the kind of person who was dependant on alcohol. I liked it, and it was a large part of my life, but I rarely if ever drank to feel things. I would be the first to admit I was not great at cutting myself off or knowing how much was too much, but for this person to suggest that I was a depressed ball of alcoholic anxiety pissed me off, honestly.

My husband narrowly missed the doctor (again). As I told him what they said, I started crying. Was I this person? Am I a depressed alcoholic? Do I need that level of help??

When I told my friends, they were shocked. They had similar feelings. The whole thing felt extreme. A harsh reality is one thing, but accusing someone of needing therapy is another.

They kept me for another night, my friends came to sit with me and chat and I finally got to eat some clear liquids. I think I was on my 5th or 6th bag of fluid at this point. That night they gave me a benzo/morphine cocktail that put me into another dimension.

When I’m finally released the next day, I’m still in a lot of pain. They sent me home with a stack of prescriptions and about 10 different bandaids from the various places they’d drawn blood, plus a packet talking about recovery.

Recovery.

I never felt like an alcoholic. I knew I drank a lot, but alcholic? That’s for people who don’t show up for work and extracise their family and friends. Those people drink straight from the bottle and get the shakes if they don’t have a drink. They have beer for breakfast. That girl from Sharp Objects, she was an alcoholic. I just liked to drink.

I asked my husband if I could try it on my own first. My friends were already being super supportive, making lists of sober things we could do together, finding mocktail recipes for us to try. My husband said he was going to not drink with me, although I said it was totally cool if he still wanted to have beers on boys nights when I wasn’t there.

I just don’t love the idea of AA - and while some counseling might not be a bad idea, I don’t feel the need for full out therapy. One thing the doctor said did stick with me - your drinking landed you in the hospital, so you have a problem. That’s true. If I’m drinking so much it makes me physically ill, particularly to the point it might kill me, then yeah, I need to quit. But the emotion wasn’t there for me. I didn’t feel resentful, I wasn’t angry or sad. I took it at face value - if I wanted to get better, I had to quit drinking. Okay.

So for now, we’re gonna see how I do on my own. I loaded up my grocery order with hot teas and La Croix, because so much of drinking is just the habit of having something in my hands. I’m not really focusing on what I’m losing, either. Instead, I’m excited about the possibilities that it’s bringing.

When I’m sober, I’ll never wake up feeling like crap again. I might actually *be* a morning person and I never knew it. This morning we got up and ate cereal and had coffee and watched the news before work. My skin already looks clearer. Without alcohol, maybe it won’t be so red - maybe I won’t need to spend so much on fancy skin care because I’m naturally hydrated and fresh.

Without alcohol, meals out will be CHEAP. A typical date night for me and the Mr. could run $80-120 at a nice restaurant, with $40 at least going just to booze. With all the money we’ll save not drinking, we’ll be able to afford a nice vacation. We could redo the bathroom floors. We could save for something nice.

The amount of calories I was drinking on a weekly basis was probably staggering. I imagine I’ll lose weight without even trying. Do you know how long it’s been since I lost weight? Since I didn’t feel bloated and puffy? Maybe my wedding rings will fit again soon. Maybe my shoes won’t feel so tight. Maybe I can pull out those jeans I put away, just in case “one day” I lost the weight.

The thing is, I don’t know what’s going to happen. It’s easy right now, because I’m sitting at home with my dog and drinking water. I’m not at a bar, I’m not at a baseball game, I’m not at a friend’s party. Yesterday I got my hair done, and I normally get a glass of wine but I just got a water. It didn’t make me sad, it was just matter-of-fact. I know this isn’t going to be easy, but the reason I detailed all of the pain that I went through to get here is that I NEVER want to feel that way again. And if that means that I don’t drink anymore, okay. I don’t drink anymore. It kind of feels like a black and white issue.

I hope that one day I can get to a place where I can enjoy one glass of wine with dinner, once a month or so. I’m glad I got to drink my first Guinness in Ireland. I’m glad I got to experience Wine Country. I’m grateful that I got to bike to a hilltop winery and have lunch under a fig tree in Nice. I’m thankful that I’ve gotten to drink lots of French wine under the Eiffel Tower. I have gotten to experience a lot of “drinking” things that I will treasure.

When I asked the doctor if there would ever be a day where I could have a glass with dinner, she scoffed. She said, “That’s not how this works.” What she doesn’t know is, THAT is the sort of thing that pisses me off. I now have something to prove - not only that I can do this on my own, but that I can have the self-control to do it my way too. So here’s the start of my journey - here’s my committment to myself, my health, and my future without alcohol. I know they say it isn’t going to be easy, but right now, I’ve got nothing but hope.

#sober #sobriety #recovery #alcoholism #mysoberstory

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