6 Months

Last night I had the strongest urge to drink since I stopped 6 months ago. I was told by some of the folks in my support group that 3, 6 and 9 months are the most difficult. I heard what they said but I didn't really resonate with the concept. There is a part of me that is quite delusional, you see, hence some of my rather maladaptive behavior patterns. After finishing a rather challenging but very rewarding painting contract I came so close to driving myself to a liquor store and feeding the thirsty monster inside me I was shaking. I called a friend from my recovery program and declared that "I needed to make a plan". That means "HELP"! After a long walk and a good talk I calmed down significantly but was still longing to escape reality. This is when I find addiction most interesting. My life is going better than it has for more than a decade. It is an insidious desire to hurt myself that must be responsible for wanting to escape reality when reality has become so pleasurable. During our walk my friend reminded me of the HALT acronym that we use in our program: hungry, angry, lonely, tired. I stopped for something to eat after leaving his company. Well, a fast food hamburger never tasted so good. I savored every bite as I watched an extremely sweet animation called "Up"...there went any anger I was grasping onto. Soon, I was off to bed to take care of the fourth commandment. So simple. HALT.

The lovely customer I had just finished working for knew of my recent life changes and had given me a bloodstone and a rose quartz in a little pouch. She told me that if I slept with them under my pillow they would help me with my courage and resolve to abstain from my self destructive behaviors. When I climbed into bed I grabbed that pouch and grasped it so tightly under my pillow that my fingers went numb. And then I cried... with relief, with gratitude, with love.

This morning I awoke very early to the sounds of the birds singing outside my window. I reached out and caressed my beautiful canine companion and felt joy in my heart and peace in my soul. I continue on my homeward journey.

Every journey has a beginning....

I discovered alcohol and its pleasures at a fairly young age as it was simply "a way of life" in my world. I still remember the intense and instantaneous warmth I experienced taking my first drink from a mason jar of half-frozen vodka & orange juice that my best friend and I had made up earlier in the week. I can't recall how or why we devised the plan to steal alcohol from our fathers' respective provisions, add our mix, and stash the trusty jar in my back yard to lie in wait until our weekend adventure, but I do remember the excitement I felt through the process, and I definitely remember how intensely I anticipated that first drink.

Friday night finally arrived. You know, it just occurs to me as I write this that I only now understand why Fridays have historically been the most difficult times for me to abstain. Going back to the beginning can be a fruitful venture. But I digress! Our adventure was about to commence. Initially, we were disappointed to find that our concoction had turned into a slurpee but when those sweet, fruity ice crystals made their way down my throat and immediately started a fire inside me, any disappointment I had was squelched...squashed like a bug. Who would have known that I would yearn for that fire almost every time I felt disappointments in life? But again I digress! The jar wasn't very big but neither were our bodies and soon we barely needed our snowsuits even though the temperature was probably close to minus 20. And soon we were as carefree as birds, flying around on the frozen lake totally mesmerized by a scene that would normally have us cold, bored and likely becoming snotty with each other. Hmmm...more foreshadowing. I felt invincible. Always a painfully shy child, and there I was flagging down boys on their ski-doos, asking for rides and, quite frankly, having the time of my life. It sounds so joyful, so innocent. It turned so painful and so ugly. I am so grateful to even be considering writing about my drinking life in the past tense. Until four months ago I began giving up. I guess that was as low as I was willing to allow my bottom to be.

Welcome to my world, the old and the new, the ugly and the beautiful.