It's just so sad...

I feel like my posts lately have all been pretty dark...and depressing...

I'm sitting here feeling like I have been hit by a mac truck and realizing that my brain is kind of like that right now too. What's the deal?!

I know part of it is because I'm still recovering from the weekend...Tuesday's for the last several years typically feel a little foggy. Monday isn't enough of a rest.

It used to be days that like this I would go home and drink. I mean, I drank every day, but on days like this I would say "man, it's been a rough day...I need a fucking beer"

I suppose on good days I would say the same thing...

I wont today though.

I also know I've been eating like crap. Haven't been exercising. Just been dragging. I even took a pregnancy test (or 3) to see if maybe that was what was wrong with me. 

I think I'm just good old fashioned run down.

I know as part of getting healthy. Part of recovery, I need to take care of myself. Not just eliminate alcohol, but really, truly focus on getting healthy. Physically, Mentally, Emotionally.

For so long I've been a self medicator.

When I was a teenager with low self esteem...I learned I could drink more than other girls and keep up with the boys. 

When my mom was battling cancer...I learned I could make the worry and the stress go away for a little while.

When my addiction started to really get bad and I was doing every drug you can possibly imagine and putting myself in terrible situations...I was so fucked up I really didn't care.

When I was 19-20 and my circle of friends was literally dropping like flies, dying from drug overdoses...I hoped I would be next so I wouldn't have to go through this anymore. I kept doing it though...I didn't die.

I got pregnant.

My daughter saved my life. I have said it before and it is the absolute truth. Saved. My. Life.  My now husband and I were both sorry excuses for functioning adults. I stayed up all night...pretty much every night...put beer in my coffee mug and went to work. I was only 20 at the time. He wasn't much better, although he was older...and growing tired of that whole cycle.

He told me he knew I was trouble and he knew he needed to back away from the relationship we were establishing.

Then I got pregnant.

Without missing a beat I quit everything. Including my job - which in retrospect I needed to do so I could process the fact that I was going to be a mom and I barely knew the man who would be her father.

I know everything happens for a reason. There is no logical reason why...9 years later...my husband is now my husband. We have 2 beautiful kids, a beautiful home and a pretty enviable life by most standards. 

It makes zero sense. But it works for us and we love each other so much...because we both know what the alternative is and what we both were at one point.

But isn't that the problem in some ways too? We both know eachothers deepest, darkest demons. 

While we have pulled ourselves out of the darkest points in our life...some things haven't changed so much...we just hide it behind our beautiful life.

For a few years while we were busy having babies we really did keep it together. A couple nights a year we'd go out and drink with our friends, do lines and hate ourselves for days. But we would enjoy those nights to "get it out of our system". We really really were so much better off in that aspect than where we've ended up. 

At some point though things changed. Another time Ill process the ascend back into daily drinking and weekly drug use...as I mull it over in my head, it's so predictable and and in retrospect so obvious. 

We never got as bad as we "were" but we were much worse than we should have ever been. And it's been this way for at least 5 years.

How sad. 

My daughter saved me the first time. Now I want to save them. I don't want them to think this cycle is normal. No matter how much I try to tell myself they don't notice...of course they do. 

It is all so sad. No wonder my sober mind keeps getting more and more cloudy. 

I just want a happy life. I have a happy life....I want to live it though. Not go through the motions.

Writing this has reminded me just how complicated this disease is. My story is textbook in so many ways. Writing this helps keep me in check....I have been struggling for SO long, it's time to make it right and make myself healthy.

I just wish I could shake the feeling of how sad it is to be this way though. To have lived this life. I guess I never ever want my kids to go through this and I am so scared I have passed this along to them and they will. It is just. so . sad.

I started writing this today with every intention of writing a happy post. Full of hope. And rainbows and butterflies and cliches. If you're ready this...I'm sorry...I don't think I'm ready for that yet.

Hope "8 terrible ways to quit drinking"

 

This was exactly what I needed to see this morning: "8 terrible ways to quit drinking"  http://bit.ly/13AHiBC

I could relate to almost all of it! 

Like I've said before....controlled drinking is only controlled until it isn't. 

Beating myself up is only effective in making myself feel like the worst person in the world....

Just wanted to share that post...seeing other peoples stories gives me hope...the same hope I someday hope to give others. 

baby steps.

A friend of mine with many years of sobriety told me that each little step is progress in the right direction and eventually the little steps all add up to the big reward.

I'm trying to keep that in mind. This weekend didn't go as planned. Maybe I overestimated my husbands will power and readiness to commit to this change. He's been struggling and I didn't know. So I've been leaning on him for strength and then when he stumbles...I go crashing down too. 

So no, this weekend wasn't a good weekend for sobriety. I'm so disappointed in myself. I feel hopeless again.

I'm trying to remember that if I keep pushing forward and keep making progress even if I fall, it's still steps in the right direction.

 I need to work on being stronger within myself and not just relying on my husband to have the strength. I need to be strong for him sometimes too. 

Time to refocus. Put in the work. Commit to this. Again.

Mud

I started this blog for a few reasons. One of them being to give an honest representation of early recovery. I'm trying. I really am. 

I will be brutally honest here. I refuse to give a fake account and not let you guys know when I struggle. This is real life. 

Last night my husband struggled. A harmless excursion with his brother after work turned into drinking and bad decisions. They came here with beer and told me I could head out to get more drugs. I hate saying that. It sounds so dirty. I would judge me if I were reading this.

I didn't go though. I did drink a few beers...but I didn't go. So in one way I feel like I succeeded and in another way I feel I failed. 

I'm becoming more and more self aware. I know it's a slippery slope. Controlled drinking only works until it doesn't. 

My goal is to one day say I am in recovery. I feel like I'm army crawling my way there though. 

I literally feel like I'm on my belly, dirt and mud in my face, making my way to the finish line I can't yet see. Then I hit an obstacle and slide backwards. Cut up, filthy, a little defeated...but I keep crawling forward. 

That's what this process really is. It's like a tough mudder race in your brain. 

At least for me it is. 

So, this is my truth. I hope to get some readers here who will root for me to reach the finish line. I don't blame you if you don't though. It might be to messy to watch. 

But it's real. Dirty, raw and real. 

*Friday*

Fridays are apparently becoming very symbolic for me.It's Friday...and for the first time on the little journey of mine I have no anxiety or hesitation about it. I can honestly say that. I'm just happy it's Friday. 

Friday has usually been a day of mixed emotions for me. 

...Anticipation of the high. 
...Anxiety about the high. 
....Determination not to chase the high.
....Regret about the decisions I knew I would be making.
....Justification about the decisions I would be making.
....Denial that any of this was a problem.

yuck.

It's really been so exhausting in retrospect.

Today I'm excited to have "Make your own pizza night" with my amazing daughters. They are so excited about it. I'm excited to watch Dateline with my husband...in a clean home. Im excited to not have to jump out of bed in the morning and be able to sleep in...even if it's just till the girls let me.

I'm excited to do it sober. To not have a beer in hand while making said pizzas. To be able to cuddle with my husband...because I don't need to sit upright to drink the beer in my hand. (hot tea is much less intrusive for so many reasons) I'm excited to get up in the morning rested. Without guilt. Without regret. Without a pounding heading.

With patience. With peace. With hope.

Hopeless would describe the way I have felt so much of the time these last several years. Just hopeless. I would wake up with dread sometimes. Overwhelming guilt. The reality that we would never change and this was just the life we had.

No one from the outside looking in would know.. We're a super fun family, with great kids. We really have it together. They don't know that Mommy drinks every single day. That I've bought beer when we needed milk. That mommy and daddy tend to pull all nighters on Fridays or Saturdays and then sleep the following day away. They don't know how much money we have spent to support these habits and the toll it takes on our family. We really have it together.

I am so looking forward to the day when I can say that it's true. We really do have it together. Just taking these small steps makes it feel like more than I've ever had before.

Perspective

Today I am happy. Learning the importance of one day at a time. Relishing the peace that comes without the burden of living for my next drink. That was in fact my reality. I'm determined to make my reality something simpler. Something calmer. Something more real. This sums it up perfectly...

I am smarter than I was a month ago. I know now this isn't going to be easy. I need to be ready and waiting for the inevitable doubts that will creep in and tell me I don't have a problem. I need to remember the severity of how much this has consumed my life. I need to consume my life with the real now. And work for it. 

I'm focusing again on step 3 and giving trust another go. I'm turning this over to God and trusting him to bring me peace to get through the hard times ahead. Lets do this. 

Being sober is really really hard

I'm back. I haven't been updating - but I will start again.

Being sober is hard. I was so smug the first couple of weeks. I was so ready. It was so surprisingly easy. Lesson learned! I knew it was to good to be true, that I just woke up, changed and carried on my merry way. It was to good to be true. This recovery thing is no joke. It only works if you do.

So I will surrender to the process. The setbacks. The hard days and the good ones. I will put in the work.

I went to the concert.  17 days sober. Pissed at God. Confident in myself that I had "dried out" and could have a few drinks like a normal person. 

So I grabbed beer on the way home...to take to the concert of course. I drank one in the shower...then another while I was getting ready. Then drank the entire car ride to the concert. Again at the concert. Until my husband couldn't stand me anymore and we left. And I drank the whole way home.

Ooops. That didn't really go as planned.

Then my husband had plans with his friends that involved drinking that Friday. I told him, go! Have fun! You've been so good...you totally deserve it! Secretly because I knew if he was drinking that night I could take up my favorite past time. Drinking and Dateline on a Friday night! Peace and Quiet. Cold beer in hand...remote to myself. It was lovely. Had 4 beers. Went to bed...felt great the next day. See...I told myself....I can do this. 

The following evening we took our kids to a show. I didn't drink at the show...not because it was a Disney Live show, but mainly because we didn't have the money and I knew my husband would never let me get away with it. So when we got home, and got the kids off to bed, I resumed position. I only drank 3... (do normal people feel the need to count I wonder?) I went to bed, felt great the next day. See...I told myself...this is so normal. Normal people drink a few beers on a Friday and Saturday night and don't  beat themselves up about it and feel like a horrible person and decide they have a "problem". Clearly I was over reacting. 

The following afternoon (a Sunday) we went to a BBQ. Of course everyone was drinking...because that's what our friends do when they get together. So I drank. I brought 2 with me. Drank those. Then drank the beers offered to me, 5 or so. Then got home and drank the stow away in the back of the fridge. And a nasty lime-a-rita thing that had been in there for awhile because I don't like them anyway. But desperate times....

I felt crappy... a little guilty. Ready to get back on the wagon I told my husband. 

But then I found out that our favorite bar was closing and Friday night would be it's last night in business. My husband and I met there....I mean...we really should be there for their last night in business...it was the right thing to do. Plus we'd been "good" for almost a month. Oh! And it could be an end of one chapter, beginning of another right? Right. Although, if we are going to go out drinking...we really can't do that without drugs. Not if we're going to be drinking all night. Anyway...we've had a good run. *keep inserting justifications here* So we went. And partied. And $300 and a hangover later...it wasn't a bad time, wasn't a great time...at least what I remember. It was just more of the same.

I didn't want to beat myself up though about it. No. That's to uncomfortable. I had already proved I didn't have a problem by not drinking for 17 days in a row. I had only drank 5 days out of the last month, I could count that one 1 hand! *justify...justify....justify*

So Sunday night there were 3 beers in the fridge and I decided to drink them. I knew 3 wouldn't do the job though...I was going to need to get more. Long story short...long argument with my husband about it...trip to the store in which I basically snuck out of the house to get a 6 pack...answered a call from my 6 year old crying that I left without saying goodbye...more fighting with my husband when I got home and continued to drink. good times.

I got up in the morning and my husband had poured out the remaining beers in the fridge. I thanked him. He wasn't talking to me. 

Ok...ok. This is not normal.

Today would have been 1 month sober for me. I couldn't even make it a month.

My point is this: It was so easy at first! Recovery isn't easy though. It is so fucking hard! Look how quickly I went from accepting my demons, accepting God as my truth and turning everything over to him...feeling such an overwhelming sense of peace...to getting sucked right back in and ending right back in the same cycle. This disease is no joke!

I can accept now...and mean it....that my recovery has to be priority number one for awhile. I need to change my "people, places and things". I can't put myself in situations that allow this disease to trick me into thinking its all good and I just got a little out of control. Ive been out of control for years. Ive gone years drinking literally every single day. 

This isn't the life I want to have. This isn't how I want to be remembered. The isn't the reputation I want to precede me. This isn't the example I want to set for my kids.

I need to be more cognizant of relapse. I need to be more aware of how easy it is to relapse....not recover. Recovery isn't easy. 

Nothing worth having is though.