Not much to report, just working on job search. Will probably write more soon.
B
Monday, June 15, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Bad advice
I stopped by my old haunting ground today, the bar where I spent way too many hours and days during 2008. I'm friends with the bartender and some of the regulars and had plans in the area, so I stopped by to talk for a while first.
There's one guy there who probably drinks more than I used to. He's a nice guy, probably too loud for his own good. And always has an opinion. Whenever I stop in there (maybe 4 times since leaving rehab), he tries to tell me tat he doesn't think I had a bad problem, I wasn't that bad a drinker. Now, he was pretty drunk when he said this today but...
People have to realize that is the most dangerous thing you can say to a recovering alcoholic. An alcoholic is looking for ANY reason or justification to be able to drink again. Doesn't matter if it's your best friend or just someone you happen to know, if someone says you could probably drink, that idea grabs hold and works its way through your head. Alcoholism is, as they say, cunning, baffling, powerful, insidious. It is just looking for a weak spot and it is completely reckless and inappropriate for someone else to provide it.
Now, I've said in the past I sometimes apppreciate times like these, challenges like these. It keeps me on my toes and makes me remember my Step 1 work. That's still true. But when they push it, trying to convince me...then I get pissed off.
The interesting thing is that these comments typically come from people who have drinking problems themselves. Making me believe I can drink makes them feel better about their own drinking. If I can't (or won't) stay sober, then they feel bette that they won't. So I take it with a grain of salt and usuallly just brush it off.
But sometimes, after all the work I've done, I just want to tell these people too shut the fuck up for talking about something they know absolutely nothing about. This should be viewed as any disease. Other people just don't know. And I wouldn't expect them to.
I think I need to start being less polite and telling them what I really think when they spew this crap.
Best,
B
There's one guy there who probably drinks more than I used to. He's a nice guy, probably too loud for his own good. And always has an opinion. Whenever I stop in there (maybe 4 times since leaving rehab), he tries to tell me tat he doesn't think I had a bad problem, I wasn't that bad a drinker. Now, he was pretty drunk when he said this today but...
People have to realize that is the most dangerous thing you can say to a recovering alcoholic. An alcoholic is looking for ANY reason or justification to be able to drink again. Doesn't matter if it's your best friend or just someone you happen to know, if someone says you could probably drink, that idea grabs hold and works its way through your head. Alcoholism is, as they say, cunning, baffling, powerful, insidious. It is just looking for a weak spot and it is completely reckless and inappropriate for someone else to provide it.
Now, I've said in the past I sometimes apppreciate times like these, challenges like these. It keeps me on my toes and makes me remember my Step 1 work. That's still true. But when they push it, trying to convince me...then I get pissed off.
The interesting thing is that these comments typically come from people who have drinking problems themselves. Making me believe I can drink makes them feel better about their own drinking. If I can't (or won't) stay sober, then they feel bette that they won't. So I take it with a grain of salt and usuallly just brush it off.
But sometimes, after all the work I've done, I just want to tell these people too shut the fuck up for talking about something they know absolutely nothing about. This should be viewed as any disease. Other people just don't know. And I wouldn't expect them to.
I think I need to start being less polite and telling them what I really think when they spew this crap.
Best,
B
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Six Months
Not much to report on...but today marks six months without a drink. Crazy.
There is a girl I see at meetings all the time. Every time I see her, she says her day count is 4 days, 12 days, 1 day, etc. Just proves as good as six months sounds, everyone is just one drink away from starting over again.
B. Out.
There is a girl I see at meetings all the time. Every time I see her, she says her day count is 4 days, 12 days, 1 day, etc. Just proves as good as six months sounds, everyone is just one drink away from starting over again.
B. Out.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Dinner for how many?
Been having stupid self-esteem issues lately. Nothing catastrophic, just silly stuff. For instance, been doing lots of work on my apartment. Trying to set it up to accommodate several guests at once. I've got a nice sitting area, big couch, trying to pick up one more chair to fill it out. Thing is, I can't remember the last time I had more than one person at my apartment (any apartment) at one time. Would love to have a few people over for dinner, an evening here. But then I start thinking is my apartment somewhere that my friends would want to hang you since I don't drink? That shouldn't be a big deal and I really don't mind at all if people drink here - they can do whatever they like. But I think it's hard for people to believe me when I say that. And either way, the thing probably looms over the evening anyway. Or maybe I'm crazy and they don't give a shit.
I'm not even sure what group of 3 or more people I would have over here. I've ha one person come over. I've had 2 people, a couple. And I could do that again but don't want to be person #3 every freaking time.
Gets frustrating that the place looks so great and is the most inviting place I've had in years and I just can't think of who to invite over.
Glad I wrote this down, because now that's it's on "paper", it sounds really stupid and I'm not as bothered anymore.
B
I'm not even sure what group of 3 or more people I would have over here. I've ha one person come over. I've had 2 people, a couple. And I could do that again but don't want to be person #3 every freaking time.
Gets frustrating that the place looks so great and is the most inviting place I've had in years and I just can't think of who to invite over.
Glad I wrote this down, because now that's it's on "paper", it sounds really stupid and I'm not as bothered anymore.
B
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Sponsors
I really need to figure this whole sponsor thing out. I started working with someone about a month after leaving rehab and it started out fine. Met the guy at the Soho Friday night meeting. At first I did everything he said to do - prayed every morning and night, called him every day to check in. Then just started slipping.
The last time I called him was the day in Miami when I didn't know what to do about the rum cake. That was 5 weeks ago tomorrow. He actually left me a voicemail 3 weeks ago seeing if we still had a deal to work together. He said it was fine if we didn't, just wanted to check. So it should be easy to call him and let him know I'm probably going to work with someone else. But every day I don't, it feels like the conversation will get even more awkward.
I do want to get a sponsor, I just think I'd like to find someone who I see at meetings more often. The guy I've worked with is a great guy, but clearly there is a reason I don't want to call him. I don't know if I need someone younger or someone with a more similar background or what. Should really do it soon though. Not that I'm in danger...I would just like to get back on track with the steps and I really can't do that without some guidance.
Anyway, will hopefully pick up the damn phone soon.
Best,
B
The last time I called him was the day in Miami when I didn't know what to do about the rum cake. That was 5 weeks ago tomorrow. He actually left me a voicemail 3 weeks ago seeing if we still had a deal to work together. He said it was fine if we didn't, just wanted to check. So it should be easy to call him and let him know I'm probably going to work with someone else. But every day I don't, it feels like the conversation will get even more awkward.
I do want to get a sponsor, I just think I'd like to find someone who I see at meetings more often. The guy I've worked with is a great guy, but clearly there is a reason I don't want to call him. I don't know if I need someone younger or someone with a more similar background or what. Should really do it soon though. Not that I'm in danger...I would just like to get back on track with the steps and I really can't do that without some guidance.
Anyway, will hopefully pick up the damn phone soon.
Best,
B
Friday, April 24, 2009
The story
Wow, this thing is harder to keep up with than I realized. Its not that I haven't been doing anything, actually been keeping busy. But find myself neglecting to write all of this down. Anyway, let's back up a step.
I want to write my story in the format that would share it at an AA meeting. I think this might help me develop it and think of new things to say the next time I speak at a meeting. I don't want to walk in with a script, but 20 minutes to tell your whole story at a meeting sounds like a long time until it's 4:15 and you're still discussing your college drinking days.
My drinking story is actually pretty boring. I don't mean to say that I'm not an alcoholic. It's just that I've heard other people's stories and thought to myself "wow, I wasn't THAT bad."
I've realized that this thinking is incredibly dangerous to my recovery. Thinking "I wasn't that bad" can only lead to relapses, as I try to convince myself that I wasn't actually out of control and next time will be different.
So now when I think about my story, I say that it is full of "yets." As in, when I was drinking:
- I hadn't YET lost my closest friends and family
- I hadn't YET lost a job due to drinking (although I should have)
- I hadn't YET been arrested for anything related to drinking (DUI, etc)
- I hadn't YET gotten myself killed
Maybe these things wouldn't have happened. But let's look at the progression. As a year ago:
- I hadn't YET been evicted from an apartment - UNTIL my landlord told me my lease wouldn't be renewed
- I hadn't YET been beaten up during a blackout - UNTIL I came to in the wee hours of November 13, 2008 with a bloody, bruised face and no recollection of how it got that way
- I hadn't YET been confronted with an intervention - UNTIL my family and friends got together on November 15, 2008
So if these things ended up happening, who's to say the previous things wouldn't come to pass?The speed with which my disease progressed makes it likely that they not only would have occurred at some point...they were probably on the near horizon.
I never drank in high school. I mean, I had drinks at some point, I went to a couple of parties, I had Manhattans with my family on Christmas Eve. But I never "drank". I actually don't know how to clearly differentiate the two as I write this. Most everyone I know drinks...but I guess just alcoholics "drink"? Whatever, you get the idea.
When I got to college, I certainly took advantage of the opportunity to drink more freely and definitely did some stupid things. Really stupid things. I was always the last person at the bar. I always had more to drink than everyone else. And I rarely remembered getting home But even then, I mainly drank on the weekends. I wasn't going out 4-5 nights a week, wasn't getting a fake ID so I could go wherever I wanted. I knew I was a heavy drinker when I went out but I never thought anything past that.
After college, I think my drinking was similar (although, looking back, I'd be curious to ask my friends what they thought). Again, I wasn't drinking every day, I wasn't sitting home alone drinking. I went out on weekends...but I went out hard. Again, plenty of Saturday and Sunday mornings when I just didn't remember the night before. But I always made it to work on Monday.
B-School was a whole different story. I went drinking several nights a week. But it felt like everyone did. The # of times I drank didn't seem like a problem. But the volume each particular night was. Too many times I embarrassed myself at Thursday happy hour. Too many times I showed up at the library Friday afternoon to get asked by 5 different people "how were YOU feeling this morning?" (BTW, don't ever ask people this question, whether they have a drinking problem or not. If you have a reason to ask, then you pretty much know how they are feeling. And you probably aren't the only person to ask, so you're just pissing them off and making yourself look like a tool.)
Feel like there might be more to tell of the B-School years, but not for this post.
After B-School, I worked in investment banking for 4 years. I know there were plenty of stories to tell during this time, but all I can really recall are the 100-120 hour weeks. Didn't have time to drink.
Until Summer 2007. I had changed banks just 2 months before business started shutting down. No market for anything. So plenty of time to drink. 12 PM? Long lunch at an Irish pub. 3 PM? Few afternoon rounds - as long as nothing comes through on the blackberry, who cares? 7 PM? I'm going to be here all night anyway, why not run out for a few.
This went on for about 6 months until I got swallowed in layoffs. Believe it or not, it really wasn't due to my drinking. My annual review was excellent, I never had any issues with anybody, I was trusted, etc. Business was so slow that most people really never noticed (at least the people who mattered).
So in March 2008, I was laid off and it was off to the races. I could probably leave out the first 32 years of my life and just start here and I would still fill the whole 20 minutes. Will try to be more concise here. When I first lost my job, I thought it would be nice to just take a couple months and relax after 4 years of banking hours. So I started frequenting a pub near my apartment. I used to laugh to myself about the guys who were there every day, sitting in the same bar stool, drinking the same drinks. Until they started remembering my name when I came in and remembering what to pour for me.
After a couple months went by, I decided it was the summer and, since no one really hires in the summer (Rationalization!! Justification!!), let's just keep enjoying this little break and go back to the bar.
Come September, I really had just run out of reasons to not look for a job barring sheer momentum. It was so much easier to get up at noon, walk to the bar, sit there all day, come home and drink till I passed out before doing it all over again. That was more fun than updating my resume, calling headhunters, paying bills, cleaning my apartment, visiting friends, calling family, cooking dinner. It seemed more fun than ANYTHING I normally would have done. But that did not seem unusual AT ALL to me. I saw NOTHING wrong with it. Because to recognize something was wrong with it would have meant recognizing the need to change something. And somehow, change had become the scariest thing I could imagine. Changing my daily routine, as disgusting as it was, seemed like the most difficult thing I would ever have to do.
Now, in hindsight, the change that was needed was not to make me into a NEW person. The change needed was to make me into the OLD me. Somehow, alcoholism put this huge blinder up between me and my old life and made me a) forget what ind of a person I was and b) think it was impossible to be him again.
WTF?!
So in November, I had an intervention. If you've seen the show, it's just like that. Without the camera crew. The only difference in mine was that I knew in advance. Long story how I knew, but I found out 5 days in advance. the night I found out, I had about 30 minutes of intense shock and dismay, followed by extreme relief and serenity. I was completely ready to do whatever these people told me before we had even met.
But I wasn't going to just waste those 5 days. So, knowing that it would likely be the last week I ever drank, I had to get my fill. So I spent Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday at the same bar, drinking a double shift. Thursday's shift apparently went a little longer than I expected and I had my last blackout. And I got the crap kicked out of me.
I know I was at the bar around 10 PM. The next thing I remember however is staring at myself in my bathroom mirror at 2 AM, wondering why I have two black eyes, a golf ball sized bump on my forehead and bloody gashes all over my face. Seriously, no idea. A four hour period that does not exist in my mind.
The next morning (day before the intervention), I got up and found 5 beers in the fridge. Now that just raised even more questions. Did something happen at the deli? Did I get beaten up AND THEN walk into a deli just to get a six-pack? Well, whatever, I downed the five beers and called my sister to warn everyone what I would look like when I arrived the next day.
That night, I made sure to pick up a bottle of my favorite wine to drink - call it closure, but I wanted my last drink to be memorable, not a random Sam Adams from the fridge.
I think I'll save the intervention story for the next post, this feels like a lot to write all at once.
Best,
B
I want to write my story in the format that would share it at an AA meeting. I think this might help me develop it and think of new things to say the next time I speak at a meeting. I don't want to walk in with a script, but 20 minutes to tell your whole story at a meeting sounds like a long time until it's 4:15 and you're still discussing your college drinking days.
My drinking story is actually pretty boring. I don't mean to say that I'm not an alcoholic. It's just that I've heard other people's stories and thought to myself "wow, I wasn't THAT bad."
I've realized that this thinking is incredibly dangerous to my recovery. Thinking "I wasn't that bad" can only lead to relapses, as I try to convince myself that I wasn't actually out of control and next time will be different.
So now when I think about my story, I say that it is full of "yets." As in, when I was drinking:
- I hadn't YET lost my closest friends and family
- I hadn't YET lost a job due to drinking (although I should have)
- I hadn't YET been arrested for anything related to drinking (DUI, etc)
- I hadn't YET gotten myself killed
Maybe these things wouldn't have happened. But let's look at the progression. As a year ago:
- I hadn't YET been evicted from an apartment - UNTIL my landlord told me my lease wouldn't be renewed
- I hadn't YET been beaten up during a blackout - UNTIL I came to in the wee hours of November 13, 2008 with a bloody, bruised face and no recollection of how it got that way
- I hadn't YET been confronted with an intervention - UNTIL my family and friends got together on November 15, 2008
So if these things ended up happening, who's to say the previous things wouldn't come to pass?The speed with which my disease progressed makes it likely that they not only would have occurred at some point...they were probably on the near horizon.
I never drank in high school. I mean, I had drinks at some point, I went to a couple of parties, I had Manhattans with my family on Christmas Eve. But I never "drank". I actually don't know how to clearly differentiate the two as I write this. Most everyone I know drinks...but I guess just alcoholics "drink"? Whatever, you get the idea.
When I got to college, I certainly took advantage of the opportunity to drink more freely and definitely did some stupid things. Really stupid things. I was always the last person at the bar. I always had more to drink than everyone else. And I rarely remembered getting home But even then, I mainly drank on the weekends. I wasn't going out 4-5 nights a week, wasn't getting a fake ID so I could go wherever I wanted. I knew I was a heavy drinker when I went out but I never thought anything past that.
After college, I think my drinking was similar (although, looking back, I'd be curious to ask my friends what they thought). Again, I wasn't drinking every day, I wasn't sitting home alone drinking. I went out on weekends...but I went out hard. Again, plenty of Saturday and Sunday mornings when I just didn't remember the night before. But I always made it to work on Monday.
B-School was a whole different story. I went drinking several nights a week. But it felt like everyone did. The # of times I drank didn't seem like a problem. But the volume each particular night was. Too many times I embarrassed myself at Thursday happy hour. Too many times I showed up at the library Friday afternoon to get asked by 5 different people "how were YOU feeling this morning?" (BTW, don't ever ask people this question, whether they have a drinking problem or not. If you have a reason to ask, then you pretty much know how they are feeling. And you probably aren't the only person to ask, so you're just pissing them off and making yourself look like a tool.)
Feel like there might be more to tell of the B-School years, but not for this post.
After B-School, I worked in investment banking for 4 years. I know there were plenty of stories to tell during this time, but all I can really recall are the 100-120 hour weeks. Didn't have time to drink.
Until Summer 2007. I had changed banks just 2 months before business started shutting down. No market for anything. So plenty of time to drink. 12 PM? Long lunch at an Irish pub. 3 PM? Few afternoon rounds - as long as nothing comes through on the blackberry, who cares? 7 PM? I'm going to be here all night anyway, why not run out for a few.
This went on for about 6 months until I got swallowed in layoffs. Believe it or not, it really wasn't due to my drinking. My annual review was excellent, I never had any issues with anybody, I was trusted, etc. Business was so slow that most people really never noticed (at least the people who mattered).
So in March 2008, I was laid off and it was off to the races. I could probably leave out the first 32 years of my life and just start here and I would still fill the whole 20 minutes. Will try to be more concise here. When I first lost my job, I thought it would be nice to just take a couple months and relax after 4 years of banking hours. So I started frequenting a pub near my apartment. I used to laugh to myself about the guys who were there every day, sitting in the same bar stool, drinking the same drinks. Until they started remembering my name when I came in and remembering what to pour for me.
After a couple months went by, I decided it was the summer and, since no one really hires in the summer (Rationalization!! Justification!!), let's just keep enjoying this little break and go back to the bar.
Come September, I really had just run out of reasons to not look for a job barring sheer momentum. It was so much easier to get up at noon, walk to the bar, sit there all day, come home and drink till I passed out before doing it all over again. That was more fun than updating my resume, calling headhunters, paying bills, cleaning my apartment, visiting friends, calling family, cooking dinner. It seemed more fun than ANYTHING I normally would have done. But that did not seem unusual AT ALL to me. I saw NOTHING wrong with it. Because to recognize something was wrong with it would have meant recognizing the need to change something. And somehow, change had become the scariest thing I could imagine. Changing my daily routine, as disgusting as it was, seemed like the most difficult thing I would ever have to do.
Now, in hindsight, the change that was needed was not to make me into a NEW person. The change needed was to make me into the OLD me. Somehow, alcoholism put this huge blinder up between me and my old life and made me a) forget what ind of a person I was and b) think it was impossible to be him again.
WTF?!
So in November, I had an intervention. If you've seen the show, it's just like that. Without the camera crew. The only difference in mine was that I knew in advance. Long story how I knew, but I found out 5 days in advance. the night I found out, I had about 30 minutes of intense shock and dismay, followed by extreme relief and serenity. I was completely ready to do whatever these people told me before we had even met.
But I wasn't going to just waste those 5 days. So, knowing that it would likely be the last week I ever drank, I had to get my fill. So I spent Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday at the same bar, drinking a double shift. Thursday's shift apparently went a little longer than I expected and I had my last blackout. And I got the crap kicked out of me.
I know I was at the bar around 10 PM. The next thing I remember however is staring at myself in my bathroom mirror at 2 AM, wondering why I have two black eyes, a golf ball sized bump on my forehead and bloody gashes all over my face. Seriously, no idea. A four hour period that does not exist in my mind.
The next morning (day before the intervention), I got up and found 5 beers in the fridge. Now that just raised even more questions. Did something happen at the deli? Did I get beaten up AND THEN walk into a deli just to get a six-pack? Well, whatever, I downed the five beers and called my sister to warn everyone what I would look like when I arrived the next day.
That night, I made sure to pick up a bottle of my favorite wine to drink - call it closure, but I wanted my last drink to be memorable, not a random Sam Adams from the fridge.
I think I'll save the intervention story for the next post, this feels like a lot to write all at once.
Best,
B
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Rum cake for Uncle C
Well, I guess this site will be very out of chronological order. I plan on going back and writing on my experience over the past few months but I also need to make sure I get each day's thoughts down. So here's what happened over the last week.
My uncle passed away last Sunday. He was my mother's brother and my Godfather. Uncle C was the kind of guy who was great to go beer-for-beer with. I think I always viewed him as the "cool" one of the family. I really didn't see him all that often growing up due to geographical distance. But I knew I could count on him every birthday and Christmas for a shirt that I was guaranteed never to wear (even though I loved getting them).
I finally had the opportunity to visit Uncle C and Aunt L about 2 years ago and had a great time sharing a couple rounds of scotch with him on their balcony. So when I found out around 10 AM Sunday morning, the thought came to mind of sitting in an Irish pub, buying rounds of drinks for everyone and sharing stories about him. Instead, I went to an AA meeting. There, I shared about how I didn't even recognize myself that day. I spoke about how, although I didn't have the desire to drink, I was confused at the fact that I wasn't drunk. I mean, it had been a full 2 1/2 hours since I had found out, that was plenty of time to put down half a dozen rounds of beer and Jameson's. I could see an alternate "me" and see the path his day would have taken.
Instead of being drunk though that day, I was able to help my mother and aunt (Uncle C's sisters) make flight arrangements. I was able I was able to have coherent discussions with family members about what had happened.
Most importantly, I was able to "feel". Alcohol does a funny thing by taking away genuine emotion. Every day becomes "fine."
How are you feeling?...fine
Your team lost, how are you feeling?...fine
You won the lottery, how are you feeling?...fine
No matter if it's a great day, a horrible day, or a middle of the road day, everything is just fine. Joy becomes just a better day than others, but nothing to get too excited about. Sadness becomes some blob of tears and depression to the point of forgetting what I was sad about to begin with.
At the meeting that day, I was able to shed real tears or Uncle C. Real, powerful, cathartic, genuine tears. I shed them again at the gravesite as his coffin was lowered. I wanted to shed them. In the past, tears for me were almost solely a cry for attention, a "oh why me, I may have screwed something up, but don't be upset with me, look I'm crying, you should feel sorry for me." When I shed tears this week though, I didn't care if people saw me or not. I would have sat by myself just to feel the emotion and have my moment for Uncle C.
Trigger Effect
As I mentioned, Uncle C was the kind of guy you celebrate, not mourn. Irish wakes were invented for him. Which is what made something at the post-funeral lunch so challenging.
About 30 of us gathered for a large lunch after the funeral on Thursday. Near the end of the meal, my aunt turned to me and asked "did you save room for dessert? They brought rum cake in honor of Uncle C."
Now, I've heard many people discuss this scenario. No one was offering me rum...it was just rum cake. The alcohol cooks off right? Just like using cooking wine, vodka sauce, etc. But who knows? Maybe it could lead to rum and cokes back at the hotel lounge. No way of knowing.
The problem was not so much the cake itself. The problem was it was "in honor of Uncle C." How could I not have some, if it was for him? Wouldn't he have some if he were here?
So I did what I really didn't want to do and called my sponsor. I'm supposed to call him everyday, but have been slacking off. We are working through the steps and I've been very slow (lazy) at doing Step 4. I hadn't spoken with him for over a week. But I figured rather than sitting wracking my brain, let's get some outside help. And it took him about 10 seconds to set me straight.
When I explained the situation to him, his only question was "if someone put an f'in heroin cake in front of you, would you eat that?" Done. Case closed. Now, let me be clear - I have never touched heroin or have any inclination to do so. But the analogy still worked.
I was able to walk back into the restaurant and push the cake aside - again and again as it was offered to me multiple times. Only a handful of people in the room actually knew my situation and it really wasn't the time to go into detail about it, so I just feigned being full from lunch.
Now, this by itself is just a semi-interesting quick story. But for me, it's all part of a larger picture which develops over time. Only today did I see the true benefit of pushing that cake aside. I arrived at the Miami airport yesterday afternoon with my mother and aunt to find that our flight had been cancelled. From there, I was able to work with the airline to not only confirm that we had been rebooked on a later same-day flight, but had been rebooked in first-class. I was also able to help set them up in the airport club during our wait and help carry their bags when we arrived home after midnight. ALL of this would have been that much more difficult with a hangover. I would have had trouble keeping my own head on straight with 12 hours of travel, let alone helping them get home.
Everything about sobriety comes down to a series of little victories these days for me. Painting the walls of my apartment. Paying bills on time. Showing up to events on time. This week proved to be an important victory that I couldn't have seen coming...and without the calories of the rum cake.
Keep on Counting,
B
My uncle passed away last Sunday. He was my mother's brother and my Godfather. Uncle C was the kind of guy who was great to go beer-for-beer with. I think I always viewed him as the "cool" one of the family. I really didn't see him all that often growing up due to geographical distance. But I knew I could count on him every birthday and Christmas for a shirt that I was guaranteed never to wear (even though I loved getting them).
I finally had the opportunity to visit Uncle C and Aunt L about 2 years ago and had a great time sharing a couple rounds of scotch with him on their balcony. So when I found out around 10 AM Sunday morning, the thought came to mind of sitting in an Irish pub, buying rounds of drinks for everyone and sharing stories about him. Instead, I went to an AA meeting. There, I shared about how I didn't even recognize myself that day. I spoke about how, although I didn't have the desire to drink, I was confused at the fact that I wasn't drunk. I mean, it had been a full 2 1/2 hours since I had found out, that was plenty of time to put down half a dozen rounds of beer and Jameson's. I could see an alternate "me" and see the path his day would have taken.
Instead of being drunk though that day, I was able to help my mother and aunt (Uncle C's sisters) make flight arrangements. I was able I was able to have coherent discussions with family members about what had happened.
Most importantly, I was able to "feel". Alcohol does a funny thing by taking away genuine emotion. Every day becomes "fine."
How are you feeling?...fine
Your team lost, how are you feeling?...fine
You won the lottery, how are you feeling?...fine
No matter if it's a great day, a horrible day, or a middle of the road day, everything is just fine. Joy becomes just a better day than others, but nothing to get too excited about. Sadness becomes some blob of tears and depression to the point of forgetting what I was sad about to begin with.
At the meeting that day, I was able to shed real tears or Uncle C. Real, powerful, cathartic, genuine tears. I shed them again at the gravesite as his coffin was lowered. I wanted to shed them. In the past, tears for me were almost solely a cry for attention, a "oh why me, I may have screwed something up, but don't be upset with me, look I'm crying, you should feel sorry for me." When I shed tears this week though, I didn't care if people saw me or not. I would have sat by myself just to feel the emotion and have my moment for Uncle C.
Trigger Effect
As I mentioned, Uncle C was the kind of guy you celebrate, not mourn. Irish wakes were invented for him. Which is what made something at the post-funeral lunch so challenging.
About 30 of us gathered for a large lunch after the funeral on Thursday. Near the end of the meal, my aunt turned to me and asked "did you save room for dessert? They brought rum cake in honor of Uncle C."
Now, I've heard many people discuss this scenario. No one was offering me rum...it was just rum cake. The alcohol cooks off right? Just like using cooking wine, vodka sauce, etc. But who knows? Maybe it could lead to rum and cokes back at the hotel lounge. No way of knowing.
The problem was not so much the cake itself. The problem was it was "in honor of Uncle C." How could I not have some, if it was for him? Wouldn't he have some if he were here?
So I did what I really didn't want to do and called my sponsor. I'm supposed to call him everyday, but have been slacking off. We are working through the steps and I've been very slow (lazy) at doing Step 4. I hadn't spoken with him for over a week. But I figured rather than sitting wracking my brain, let's get some outside help. And it took him about 10 seconds to set me straight.
When I explained the situation to him, his only question was "if someone put an f'in heroin cake in front of you, would you eat that?" Done. Case closed. Now, let me be clear - I have never touched heroin or have any inclination to do so. But the analogy still worked.
I was able to walk back into the restaurant and push the cake aside - again and again as it was offered to me multiple times. Only a handful of people in the room actually knew my situation and it really wasn't the time to go into detail about it, so I just feigned being full from lunch.
Now, this by itself is just a semi-interesting quick story. But for me, it's all part of a larger picture which develops over time. Only today did I see the true benefit of pushing that cake aside. I arrived at the Miami airport yesterday afternoon with my mother and aunt to find that our flight had been cancelled. From there, I was able to work with the airline to not only confirm that we had been rebooked on a later same-day flight, but had been rebooked in first-class. I was also able to help set them up in the airport club during our wait and help carry their bags when we arrived home after midnight. ALL of this would have been that much more difficult with a hangover. I would have had trouble keeping my own head on straight with 12 hours of travel, let alone helping them get home.
Everything about sobriety comes down to a series of little victories these days for me. Painting the walls of my apartment. Paying bills on time. Showing up to events on time. This week proved to be an important victory that I couldn't have seen coming...and without the calories of the rum cake.
Keep on Counting,
B
My first post
Hi I'm B and I'm an alcoholic. A good friend suggested I start this blog as a way to get my thoughts down on paper. I had mentioned how much my texts to her gave me comfort after certain experiences...maybe a larger audience will help even more.
I plan on sharing my story here about my recent, ongoing recovery from alcoholism. I have been sober for 4 1/2 months (or 134 days to be exact). Doesn't seem like a tremendous amount of time...but compared to where I was last year, it's huge.
My postings must be completely nameless. This is for two reasons. One is self-preservation. While I have no shame about admitting I am an alcoholic or for having gone to rehab (more on that later), you never know who will have their own thoughts about it. I need to protect myself on a professional level. Secondly, I need to protect those people who I mention here. Their stories are theirs alone and it is not my place to their identities.
As for the name of this blog, it refers to what Alcoholics Anonymous calls "counting days". Anyone counting to their first 90 days to sobriety who shares their day count at a meeting typically receives congratulatory applause from the group. But it goes beyond that. Whether someone has one day or 50 years, they are all congratulated. Whether someone has spent decades in sobriety and has had the "spiritual awakening" promised to him or has just picked himself up out of the gutter for his first meeting, both are welcomed and celebrated. Because honestly, who couldn't use a pat on the back and a round of applause EVERYDAY for something?
I'm not sure how I will let people know this blog exists. I'll probably tell some of my closer friends who know my experience and hope they can pass the word for me anonymously. I also don't know how interesting it will be. For all I know, it could end up being as exciting as one big Facebook status update. For all I know, I could forget to post for days or weeks. For all I know, I could relapse. As scary as that is, it has to be recognized as a possibility.
In the end, I DON'T CARE how interesting it is. Because while I would love it if these postings help someone out there, my first reason for doing this is to help myself. I do not claim to be an expert on this stuff. I do not have all the answers for anyone. I am still working on my own "spiritual awakening". Perhaps this will change over time. For now, I'll write what I can.
More to come...
Best, B
I plan on sharing my story here about my recent, ongoing recovery from alcoholism. I have been sober for 4 1/2 months (or 134 days to be exact). Doesn't seem like a tremendous amount of time...but compared to where I was last year, it's huge.
My postings must be completely nameless. This is for two reasons. One is self-preservation. While I have no shame about admitting I am an alcoholic or for having gone to rehab (more on that later), you never know who will have their own thoughts about it. I need to protect myself on a professional level. Secondly, I need to protect those people who I mention here. Their stories are theirs alone and it is not my place to their identities.
As for the name of this blog, it refers to what Alcoholics Anonymous calls "counting days". Anyone counting to their first 90 days to sobriety who shares their day count at a meeting typically receives congratulatory applause from the group. But it goes beyond that. Whether someone has one day or 50 years, they are all congratulated. Whether someone has spent decades in sobriety and has had the "spiritual awakening" promised to him or has just picked himself up out of the gutter for his first meeting, both are welcomed and celebrated. Because honestly, who couldn't use a pat on the back and a round of applause EVERYDAY for something?
I'm not sure how I will let people know this blog exists. I'll probably tell some of my closer friends who know my experience and hope they can pass the word for me anonymously. I also don't know how interesting it will be. For all I know, it could end up being as exciting as one big Facebook status update. For all I know, I could forget to post for days or weeks. For all I know, I could relapse. As scary as that is, it has to be recognized as a possibility.
In the end, I DON'T CARE how interesting it is. Because while I would love it if these postings help someone out there, my first reason for doing this is to help myself. I do not claim to be an expert on this stuff. I do not have all the answers for anyone. I am still working on my own "spiritual awakening". Perhaps this will change over time. For now, I'll write what I can.
More to come...
Best, B
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