I Hated Sobering Up
My counselors said that I would probably do this, and I'm beginning to think they're right.
I absolutely hated sobering up. I didn't want to sober up, I wanted to be dead. That was my initial goal on my last several attempts, I just couldn't drink fast enough.
I would go out and buy a case of vodka, then go home to try and drink to my demise. I bought it by the case because I was afraid to run out as I would just try to go get more. I knew that wouldn't work because I might get pulled over, and then be forced to sober up. Or worse -- kill someone. Therefore, I had reasoned that bringing home enough to kill me right from the get go was the way to do this.
Why drink myself to death? Well, in my sick head:
In order to get the gun, I would have had to sober up. Fat chance. I had considered hanging myself, or slitting my throat, but I have a young nephew and two brothers who live with me. At the time, my nephew would have been about five or six. I didn't want HIM to walk in on me as I hung, or as I blew my brains out. It made more sense to me in my drunken state to just pass-out and die. I don't know, it seemed reasonable then -- sounds pretty damn f****d up now.
I had built up such a tolerance to alcohol, that the amount I drank would have killed anyone else -- and in fact, it did. I've known people that drank half that and died. How how HOW did I survive that? To this day, I simply don't understand it.
Sobering up was hell. For the next six months, I lived completely in a fog, as though I had just had my last drink yesterday. It was miserable. I couldn't remember anything, I was always confused, and everything was drab and tasteless. Life simply sucked.
When I hit just over nine months, literally, I could see the fog beginning to lift. Slowly, day by day, things cleared up, and I was able to hold a real conversation for the first time in years, really. I could remember what we were talking about and respond to it appropriately. It was refreshing.
This is how it went for me for the next year or so, little improvements; tiny, inconsequential steps -- or so it seemed.
I visited my counselor today; two years, one month, and twenty-seven days after my last drink. In a brief moment, we reflected back to see how far I've come. I've come a long way. The things that used to TERRIFY me, are now things I am actually doing. What a journey I've taken! What changes I have made! But it's not a journey I ever want to take again, so I think I'll stay.
Know what else? I think they're right. I beginning to do it; I am beginning to enjoy sobriety and the many people and recovery groups I visit. It is becoming a part of who I am. Maybe being sober isn't so bad after all.
Gratitude - Day 17 (Tuesday)
I think -- I think I'm just grateful to be alive today. I'm beginning to see major progress in my life. It's been a lot of work to get here, but -- I'm doing it.
The best part? I'm not doing it alone.