Celebration - Part I

Thank you to everyone for your responses to my last two posts.  The fact is that I would write this blog even if no one read it.  It's way cheaper than therapy and it works.  But the fact that I know you guys are out there, cheering me on, supporting me when I'm low and laughing at my stupid jokes has made this blog a part of my life and you all a part of my family.

And if even one person gets even an ounce of comfort from my words then it's worth every keystroke.

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Yesterday got me thinking about the word "celebrate".  The meaning of that word has changed so much in my sobriety.  Believe it or not fellow alkies, everything is not cause for celebration!  I know!  I was shocked too.

See, when I was drinking I was constantly on the lookout for situations that would make me feel normal AND allow me to drink as much as I wanted.  The key was to celebrate something so that everyone was drinking and I didn't feel so alone.  The words "Let's Celebrate" rolled off my tongue like "What's for dinner?" and "Do you have any cash?" roll of the tongues of my boys.  Anything was cause for celebration for me.  Anything to keep me from feeling like I was drinking too much.

Because I knew I was.  I just was not ready to admit it.

This process worked fine, for awhile.  I was able to drink only while celebrating and my normal life just kept going.  I held down jobs.  I parented my children.  I loved my spouse.  I hid.  I lied. 

I drank.

And somewhere along the way it all went wonky and I found myself celebrating alone more and more.  I mean, why go out and pay for wine when I could get much greater quantities much cheaper and stay home?  Plus, going out meant I'd have to bring my mental calculator so I could keep track of how many I'd had, how many my nearest competitor had, how much was left and whether or not I was slurring yet.

Sheesh!  Way too much work!

So I just stayed home and drank by myself.  I'd still celebrate the stuff I used to celebrate, (you know, like the laundry being done) but I did it alone so that I wouldn't have to expend so much energy thinking and I could just concentrate on drinking.

Because drinking "moderately" was hard work.  In fact, it's fucking exhausting!  Keeping track of all that crap, worrying constantly that I'd be found out, that someone would notice how much I had to drink, that someone would judge.  Nope...just too much to do and it ruined my happy time.  So I preferred to just sit home alone and drink.  Because I deserved it.  Because I was celebrating!!!

And then one day it was not so much fun anymore.  In fact it was painful.  I was full of shame and remorse and guilt.  It was hard to get out of bed every morning and keep that life I loved so much together because I was sick.  Not just sick from being hungover, I was used to that.  Sick from being in so much pain all the time as a result of the thing that was supposed to numb the pain!

Now no one was celebrating.  Not my family who were concerned but tired of seeing me slurring and incoherent every night.  Not my friends who wanted to see me but I'd isolated myself so much I turned down every invitation.  Not my colleagues who saw me sick and pale every morning but, since they were the last to know anything, thought I might be ill.  Not my wonderful and loving husband who would have done anything for me but was so tired of rehashing the same arguments, night after night, when he should have been sleeping.

Damn I'm glad that's not me anymore.  {shudder} 

Namaste