Then and Now

Rachel Black kindly wrote another post about Then and Now as she removed alcohol from her life. She is now 50 weekends sober, coming up to a year. Congratulations Rachel!

In Bed

Apologies to those who clicked through hoping for a red hot blog; you will be disappointed (and it's not that kind of website).

I'm referring to that time in the morning when you are lying in bed, thinking about getting up. Particularly on a Sunday when this period lasts longer than on weekdays.

THEN:

Slowly come to and lie very still until I work out it is Sunday. 

Assess myself for degree of hangover. This is based on how much I drank last night, whether my head is pounding, how thirsty I am, how desperate the need for carbs is and whether I am feeling sick or that the room is spinning.

Next I would move my head tentatively, perhaps to look at the clock or to see if I had any water at the bedside and observe whether my brain moved with my skull or if it lagged a second or two behind, only to slam into it again when my skull stopped moving. Again reassess for nausea and room spin.

Then I would consider what I had planned for the day and if there was anything planned that I would no longer be fit for, and decide whether I could cancel it or not. (Afternoon with friends, probably not. Taking kids to the swimming pool, probably cancelled.)

My thoughts would wander back to previous night to assess for damage. Had I picked an argument? Had I had loads more to drink than my Other Half (OH) and risked disapproval? Had I emptied the kitchen of snacks? Had I texted any friends with 'great ideas' or bought anything on-line on the spur of the moment?

Eventually I would sit up slowly and wait to see what happened. This was a defining moment in my ability to function or not. I would be torn between knowing how much better I would feel if I went for a shower straight away, yet would want to crawl downstairs for breakfast. The latter ran the risk of interacting with noisy children and fulfilling their demands and had to be balanced carefully. Eventually, I would go gingerly downstairs, crossing my fingers they were not going to fight with each other or have the television on too loudly and also that there was not too much in the way of clearing up wine glasses from the night before: I don't think I could bear the smell.

NOW: 

I lie in bed, pleased to have woken up reasonably early to make the most of a day off work. (Always so much easier to get up on Sundays than on Mondays!). Listen for children playing downstairs, hearing the sounds of them breakfasting themselves (always a bit messy but well worth a little clearing up).

Mentally I visit my lists. I love lists. Going through my To do, To buy, To do (medium term), and To do (work) lists I plan what I want and need to get done today: what I'll cook for dinner, whether I'll use the black bananas up by making muffins. And what else I will do if I have time: nip to the shops or take the pile in the garage to the dump, maybe wash the car (or persuade OH to do this).

After a quick shower I gather a load of washing from the basket and amble downstairs. I put on a wash and have a cup of tea while I decide what to have for breakfast.

Today, after 50 weekends of sobriety, I am above all thankful to be feeling well and not be hungover.

'Sober is the New Black' is full of other 'Then and Now' comparisons and is price slashed by 85% on Amazon.com this weekend.  

Sober is the New Black guest post

I received an email from Rachel and asked her if she was interested in sharing her story here. She sent the following about her experience with drinking. I am sure she would welcome your comments. 

Banishing the Booze. By Rachel Black

 

I don’t drink. Never. Not at all. None. One year ago things were very different. As a professional woman it was normal to unwind with a glass or two of wine in the evening. Precious ‘Me Time’ equated to ‘Wine Time’. Very quickly, wine o’clock arrived earlier and earlier, the quantity consumed gradually increased, the second bottle was opened. Drinking crept under the radar to invade my life.  Very quickly the couple of glasses that started as a treat, became a coping mechanism for the stresses of daily life, and latterly, became a need.  I thought alcohol was the solution, rather than the cause of my problems.  The worse things got, the more I drank.

 

Sound familiar?

 

I don’t know if I am an alcoholic but my drinking was certainly problematic and I accept I had a psychological dependence on it. This was not always the case: my relationship with alcohol was typical of my peers throughout High School, University and until I was around 30 years old. At that time things changed and I began to want and need more wine, more often. If I was not drinking I was certainly thinking about drinking. I don’t know how this started but I do believe I have inherited a pre-disposition to alcoholic tendencies from both parents.

 

Children grow up believing the ways of their family is the norm; it is all we know. I was no different and grew up unaware of the significance of alcohol in our home. I watched my parents laugh and joke over who had had more than their share from the bottle. I remember other couples coming round for a boozy evening: I would be up early and alone the next morning and would wash, dry and put away every glass we owned, making the kitchen neat and tidy for my parents. I was never aware of them being hungover, or never recognised it as such, my father was always strict, irritable, easily aggravated and had little time for us. My mother was better and I was surprised when she announced mid 50’s that she was becoming tee-total. She continues to cite ‘health reasons’ for this change and will change the subject whenever the conversation moves towards asking why. Only when I saw my life was following a path I recognised from my father, did I see the problems they both had, for now they were occurring in my life. My father continues to drink excessively each day and I knew I did not want to become like him and decided I had to change.

 

After a few years of trying and failing to moderate the amount I drank, I decided to take the path of my mother and to give up alcohol completely. I thought this would be all about doing without and deprivation. I resigned myself to a life of straight-laced misery, missing out on all the fun. I did not consider what I would gain when alcohol was removed from my life.

 

One of the biggest differences is time. I have loads of time, in the evenings and in my head. My evenings are not truncated at 6pm, my productivity disappearing with each glass, I can concentrate to do online banking and sensible shopping.  I have started a Spanish class as I am no longer reluctant to drive. My brain kicked back to life and I started to write and published my first book: Sober is the New Black.

 

My head is no longer pre-occupied with drinking. No planning nights out and organising taxis, no buying wine or suffering monster hungovers the following day which render me fit for nothing until they pass.

 

Life seems so much simpler and relaxed now. There is no rush to get to wine time. There is no anxiety if things run late. Life just happens.

 

18 months ago I was making my family miserable with my constant irritability, antagonism and over-reaction. I was ‘stressed’ about everything from making packed lunches to putting up the Christmas tree. Now I am calm, measured, pleasant.  My moods are appropriate. I am a better wife, a better colleague and a good mother who happily drives her kids to clubs and has time for a chat at bedtime. They will not see me drinking wine nor see me drunk and I hope I can be happy and believe I have set them the best example I can possibly give.

 

I need to continually remind myself that my life is now as good as it always looked on paper only because I continue to choose not to drink. I was so reluctant to give alcohol up, worried I would miss all the fun, scared of words like ‘forever’ yet here I am, relieved to be free from the clutches of alcohol, knowing I need never drink again. Why would you?

 

Contact me: soberisthenewrachelblack@gmail.com

 

Follow my blog: soberisthenewrachelblack@blogspot.co.uk or Twitter @SoberRachel

 

Sober is the New Black is available on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1495304396

SOBER IS THE NEW BLACK is being price slashed on an Amazon countdown deal from wednesday 26th Feb-Sat 1st March.

I am on the boat for a few days. Next post, I'll tell you about the State Al-Anon Convention.

 

 

 

 

Hating the disease: a story from a reader

Occasionally, I'll get an email that resonates with me because the writer shares such an honest part of herself.  I can identify with hating the disease while I desperately love the person who has it.  The following was sent to me a couple of weeks ago.  I have the writer's permission to include it here.

Dear Syd - 

I stumbled upon your blog a few weeks ago, and it has become a permanent "go to" site on my phone. I often pick topics that are relevant to me that day, and your writing has provided me with a lot of peace and hope. 

I have been in a ten year relationship with an addict (not alcohol) who I love deeply. It has been both my greatest joy and my deepest heartbreak. 

If you'll allow me to share, here's the background on our story: 

I was a good two years in the relationship before I realized there was an actual drug problem and the full extent of it. He was highly functioning and ambitious and although there were signs, I chose to believe him that everything was "fine".

Following the admission were three solid years of him trying to "beat it" on his own. The sixth year was a stint in rehab, from which he came back in full recovery. For that year he stayed clean and worked with his sponsor. In year seven, we were happy and hopeful and got engaged. We were finally putting all the plans and dreams we had put on hold so many years into effect. Things seemed promising until year eight. 

We visited his family with whom he has a complicated relationship (they are all active alcoholics), his sponsor passed away, and he stopped working the program. Almost immediately he relapsed. It started as once every few months he'd use. All the while saying he'd get it under control again. Of course it slowly escalated, as I feared it would, as he wasn't working a program. 

By year nine, the wedding had been put on hold, and his finances were in a mess. Year ten came this july. He went back to meetings. Found a temporary sponsor. And started seeing a psychiatrist in the genuine and high hopes that he would help him further. The psychiatrist, to my utter amazement, prescribed him about 4 different types of pills, two of which are highly addictive. His personality has changed to the point where he is a dull shadow of his former self. The pill intake has steadily gone up. And the drug use persists. 

I am in Al-Anon. I have a sponsor. I do three meetings a week. And I am determined to find my sanity one way or another. 

That said, there are many dark days and heartbreak as the happy (albeit imperfect) ending I whole-heartedly believed in has not ever come. 

I am now 39 years old. I pretty much may have lost my chance to have children because I decided to stay in this relationship. I have accepted that, but sometimes it makes me incredibly sad. 

I can honestly say I don't blame him. I know he has a disease. I know I chose to stay. But I feel I am realizing I can't stay much longer. I simply don't know how to co-exist and find serenity with active addiction. Last night he relapsed, after a month sober. He said he was going to the gym, and didn't come home until 6 in the morning. 

During that endless night, of which I've had many, I tried to use the tools I've learned in the program. I tried to take care of myself, read some literature, prayed, took a bath, tried to sleep... but it's too much. I just can't do it. Not knowing if the person you love is okay or if this is the time that they don't make it home is too much to bear anymore. As the morning hours creep in, the feeling of despair and panic rise to almost unbearable levels, and I start to prepare myself for the worst. Would the police come to our door? Would I have to go to the morgue? How could I stand it? How could I bear it? 

Tonight I think he may have used again. He should have been home by now. The feeling in my stomach is familiar. I want off this merry go round. And yet he is the great love of my life. What a pickle, is it not? 

I hate this disease. I hate what it's done to him. And to me. And to the life we both dreamt of so many years ago. 

I don't know how this story will end. But I know I am powerless over his disease. And I know I need to get better somehow, whether he does or not, because as utterly hopeless as I feel right now, I have not forgotten that this life is a gift. 

Thank you for taking the time to read my words. Thank you for sharing your journey with me and so many. I am so glad your wife is sober today and I wish you continued peace and recovery. 

Chelsea's story

I was contacted by Chelsea Harris who is a Managing Editor at AllTreatment.com. Chelsea wants to give some encouragement for people who are struggling as she has. As she wrote to me: " It isn't very often you see a recovery, and I just want people to know that they are real and someone knows exactly how they feel". She will be graduating from the University of Washington in spring 2011.

So here is Chelsea's story:
"I never fit in with my family. Or, more correctly, they didn't fit in with the rest of the world, and I just happened to live with them. I was an only child and lived primarily with my dad growing up. He and both of his sisters had substance abuse problems. My cousins developed the same tendencies, and I just sort of stopped calling them or answering the phone around Christmas time. I was a little sober black sheep.

I considered myself lucky. Though a little inebriated, my dad held down a job and provided me with a home and the means to participate in whatever activity I wanted so I could spend less time at home. He was never mean, never violent; he was just a little tired and slept through some stuff. I now am entering my senior year in college and firmly hold the title of "waited the longest to have children". I am incredibly lucky he had the wherewithal to see his faults and compensate accordingly.

Mine is not a story you hear often, but you wish you did and I am grateful I get to tell it. However, I am never that surprised when people don't quite understand. My roommates and friends who had seen the heartbreak and frustration of unreturned phone calls and dismal family holidays were shocked at how quickly I forgave him every time he made an attempt to sober up. I always had complete faith in that man and I still do because he gave me everything I have. He blessed me with his wit, intelligence and great vision. And now that he has found what works for him I have had three fabulous years of free meals and loads of laundry when I come home.

That was what I had wanted and now I have it. I have a dad who acts like a dad should. I have a dad now that comes up several times a month to take me to dinner because he knows that I live off of rice and beans and oatmeal. I have a dad that emails me links to blogs he knows I would like because he quickly took the time to figure out my interests and hobbies so that way he could research them. He will listen to me ramble about papers and people he doesn't know when he calls me to check in.

My dad is my hero, he always has been and I make sure he knows that. He stumbled through raising me, for a lot of the time by himself, despite the fact he was young. He gave up his dreams and gambled on me having the skills to make mine a reality and never misses a moment to tell me how proud he is. And now that I am old enough to support myself (most months) he supports organizations that help other people get and stay sober.

I guess all of this is to say that, as Al-Anon teaches me, dwelling (on the past) is neither natural nor helpful. The joy of seeing a successful recovery, at least for me, overwhelmed the bitter feelings and residual anger leftover from missed recitals and soccer games. The best way to help your addict is to love them because there is nothing I could say that my dad hasn't already thought and he has beat himself up, I'm sure, and now I am just excited to be a part of his recovery."

Thanks Chelsea. I'm glad that you are finding your way in recovery and that your dad has as well. Good luck to both of you!

Note: I thought about whether to include the link to Alltreatment.com or not. Chelsea asked that it be included. After looking at the site, I saw that it was not promoting a particular treatment center but provided resources within each state as well as articles about substance abuse and recovery. I also don't consider my blog as an "Al-Anon blog". I write about my recovery and how the program has helped me. But my blog is not endorsed by WSO and provides only my experience, strength and hope. I also write about a lot of other things that I am interested in. That is the reason i decided to let the link stay.