Category Archives: Drinking

Ramblings

I needed to psych myself up for my appointment today, so I thought I would come on here and write a little.  I had good intentions.  Then I decided drinking, pills, and generous doses of daytime & nighttime cold medicine (always an interesting variable to any buzz) might be more effective, so I tried that out.  It worked reasonably well, but once again, I went through my counseling session a little foggy.  Holy shit, it was a nightmare.  It didn’t go well at all.  I think we were on completely different pages.

Now I’m home, and I’m so down.  I’m not sure why.  A lot of things were brought up during the meeting that I never wanted brought up.  So maybe I’m weak, and unable to keep secrets, and vulnerable to things that are so far removed from my daily life that they might as well belong to someone living in an alternate universe.  I don’t maintain boundaries very well, and I violated a boundary within myself that I’ve viewed as sacrosanct for the majority of my life.  No one touches it.  I don’t even touch it.  But I breached it today, and now I’m waiting for something along the lines of a lightning bolt from heaven to knock me over.  What does this mean for the future?  Maybe nothing as far as the whole therapy thing, but maybe everything in my own life.  How many times when we were kids did adults tell us…don’t pick old scabs.  Let them heal.  They can scar.  Leave them alone.  My kindergarten teacher must have said that to kids twice a day.  The lesson hasn’t changed.

I realized today that there is a word I have never said.  I’ve never even typed it.  Does anyone else have a word like that?  I figure everyone must.  I knew its meaning even before I knew the word, but it has been off-limits.  Say it to my face, and I will say, “Fuck you.”  Well, probably not, but I might think it.  The counselor said it in passing, and I wasn’t going to say that to him, obviously.  But I wasn’t prepared.  Couldn’t we have just talked about Christmas for an hour?

Then there’s the issue of Benazir Bhutto’s assassination today.  Grr.  Nothing like an opposition leader being assassinated to put piddley things into perspective.  Ah, yes, her government warned her against gathering publicly after she complained about their insufficient attempts at security…but maybe those insufficient attempts were more deliberate than they seemed…okay, I’m trailing.  Time to sign off, as I don’t want my blog to turn into a drunken rambling.

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Nickel and Diming

I have a bad habit of giving away my money when I’m drunk.  It’s also the only time I ever bet, but I will bet without inhibitions if the opportunity arises.  I’m at a lucky stage now where I have no money to give away, but typically, I buy rounds and then try to force my money on the friends I just bought rounds for.  I will also offer whatever money I have in my pockets to the stranger who opens up and tells me he’s broke.  I come up with elaborate excuses as to why I don’t need it. 

I’ve lost a lot of money this way.  I never regret it, because I don’t value money for money’s sake, and I would rather give it away than do something logical like put it in a bank and make interest off it…but it’s not a useful habit when the end of the month rolls around.

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Anniversary

glitter-martini.gifToday marks the 13th anniversary of the first time I ever got drunk.  I was 13.  From the little I remember, it was a lot of fun, but it also landed me in the hospital with a .37 BAC.  Woops.  That was when I learned that drinking had to be done in moderation.  When I got my first job, all my money went to paying off that bill to my parents.  I would have happily paid them three times over from the guilt I felt.

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“Doubt is not a pleasant condition…

…but certainty is absurd.”  ~ Voltaire 

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I’m in this honeymoon phase where I’m off heroin, trying to appreciate that fact in all its simplicity, and adjusting to the immediate changes it’s brought.  I’m settling in.  I’m still gliding on the fact that I’ve done it…I did what I told everyone I was going to do, and…now I’m waiting for something along the lines of the hand of God to swoop down and let me sit upon it for awhile to sustain me.  Just for a bit.

Everyone tells me the hardest part comes once you’re clean.  I can cruise for a short time on the newness of it all.  I can find reward in getting to this point and pleasure in simple things once again (like eating without having to be reminded and coaxed by someone…hmm).  I’ve been through this all before, and it’s never lasted more than a couple of months.  The honeymoon ends; then I find I’m pissed off and scared (and must therefore avoid psychedelic drugs); I get tired of drinking myself into an emotionally anesthetized state; and I panic and go right back to the customary panacea for my troubles…or at least what allows me to ignore them with grand indifference.

I’m headed to an NA meeting tonight.  I’m not very excited, but I’m keeping an open mind.  Maybe that will be the difference this time, or at least a small piece of the puzzle.  I figure I need to change a lot of things.  I’m hoping for the best tonight. 

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Fuuuck

Ha!  I blew it.  I debated about whether to post this, but I figure why not.  I won’t get it off my mind until I do.

Today was not a good day.  I was through withdrawals, and today was a counseling session, so I thought I was in like flint.  However, I got messed up beforehand on a brew of booze and substances…no heroin though.  No opiates of any kind.  Therefore, I thought I was doing quite well.  Never mind the fact that mentally, I was in a really dark place.  I was drowning, actually.  But I hadn’t relapsed, so I thought I was coasting on some grand path to realization.  I did, however, have a fantastic stash just sitting in the apartment tempting me with all of hell’s wrath.  I couldn’t bring myself to just get rid of it.  No way.  I might need it.

Round two: I got a ride to the counselor, feeling airy and blithe and indifferent to everything.  The counselor asked questions, and wouldn’t you know, I’m an easy target for straightforwardness when I get loopy.  I was candid and maybe a little frank, or maybe not.  It’s a little blurry.  I didn’t really care because I couldn’t be touched.  I was far removed from the earth, in a celestial realm called who-the-fuck-cares. 

Round three: I guess I could be touched.  Moments passed; my counselor was out of the room, then back with another counselor…both really sweet, genuine guys…and I nodded and agreed with everything they said.  I wasn’t just agreeing to be agreeable…I really saw things the same way.  At least, I think I did.  I had a hard time keeping my train of thought.  I watched their lips move to assist my brain in processing words and deciphering sentences.  Wait…did the second one just say he called the authorities?  Hmm.  Yep, my counselor’s expression seemed to verify what I had heard.  They were speaking quite clearly, but whether due to chemicals or shock (my guess is chemicals), it just wasn’t registering…I would have to go with them when they came?  Like now??  Surely they would give me an hour or two, maybe let me run home to take a shower and down a few beers and grab a six-pack for the journey.  I mean, that’s logical.

The Man came to escort me to the ER.  One of them explained standard procedure: handcuffs go on before departing the building, unless he could talk his partner into waiting until after we were out of the building.  Luckily, his partner was more benevolent, and perhaps after sizing up my 100 lbs, she said no handcuffs today.  I even sweet-talked them into letting me have a cigarette (a vice I succumb to during times of withdrawal), and I could tell their decision to indulge me was a begruding one.  That gave me some satisfaction.  I was still traveling in style through who-the-fuck-cares land, and I was feeling tremendous indifference to the whole situation.  I was being called a danger to myself, and I couldn’t disagree, but my more pressing concern was how I would succeed in maintaining my buzz for 72 hours.  Impossible.  Come on, how could they be so unfair as to deny me such a sacrosanct entitlement?

The ‘KO’ [thanks to Kevin Olsen for that one] came a few hours later, when I crashed.  I was in the guarded section of the ER, shivering and shaking, desperately trying to figure out how I could ask the guard to let me sneak out for a cigarette if I promised not to run.  I would even wear the breezy hospital gown as surety.  Maybe I could order a beer from the cafeteria.  I needed alcohol.  Surely between the two younger guards who were flirting with me, one of them would be willing to slip me some potent drugs.  There had to be a way around this…the reality of the situation grew beyond unsettling as it was compounded by increasing sobriety.  I tried various tactics on the nurses.  First I tried charm.  Then I tried reason.  Then I tried arguing my rights, which were apparently none at the moment.  These nurses were hardened veterans.

My primary goal was to convince the doctor and social worker that all was well, and I was safe to leave.  Unbelievably, I talked my way out of the 72-hour hold.  It took a healthy amount of deception and dishonesty.  However, I didn’t realize the social worker would call my counselor.  For this, I feel genuinely guilty.  I have no hard feelings, and it didn’t affect my trust.  However, I’ve worked hard to be honest with him, and now I’ve broken that.  I value honesty, but more importantly, my release from the hold was an implication that he either made a miscalculation or had the wrong idea.  It doesn’t sit well with me that I put him in a bad light.  If I could just be honest, I would tell him he did the right thing.  I’ll have to ponder that one.  However…for now, I’m just happy to be home.

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Thank You God…

 …for sending us a beautiful snow storm.  On the weekend, no less (always greatly appreciated).  The snow fell all day, and even the mail was shut down.  It is an exquisite night.  Outside, it is eerily still and tranquil, and the city is blanketed by a frosty silence.  The moon and stars are invisible, but the light playing off the glittering snow makes it bright enough to read.  The roads are empty, and it is comforting to think of all the people tucked away inside in their homes.  I don’t have any calories in the apartment other than alcohol (which is running low), and I’m getting a little hungry, but that’s beside the point…I treasure these nights.  They are so peaceful.

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 …A special prayer for all the homeless, that they have shelter, food, and warmth tonight and throughout the winter.

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Adolescent Risk Factors and Warning Signs…

…for drug use.  This stuff seems pretty basic and self-evident, but gentle reminders never hurt.  We all play our parts, even those of us who don’t have kids. 

Info taken from National Institute on Drug Abuse: Preventing Drug Abuse Among Children and Adolescents ( http://www.drugabuse.gov/pdf/prevention/InBrief.pdf ).

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Risk Factors                            (Setting)           Protective Factors

Early aggressive behavior     (Individual)     Self control

Lack of parent supervision   (Family)           Parental monitoring

Substance abuse                     (Peer)                Academic competence

Drug availability                    (School)             Anti-drug policies

Poverty                                    (Community)   Strong neighborhood attachment

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Early Warning Signs….

  • lack of attachment and nurturing by parents/caregivers
  • ineffective parenting
  • caregiver who abuses substances

 Protective Factors….

  • strong parent/child bond
  • parental involvement
  • clear limits and consistent enforcement of discipline

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