A is for Alcohol

 

                                    

      Leaving Ex was the hardest thing I have ever done. Once the decision to leave was final, I began packing right away, Unfortunately, every time I thought about the fact that I was leaving my husband, overwhelming sorrow would rise up and I would end up sobbing in a fetal position on the floor. Needless to say, I was not getting much packing done.

Not much, that is, until the night I figured out that if I drank just enough alcohol to have a nice buzz going, I could robotically sort through our things.

 Drinking got me through the next few nights. I would frantically and drunkenly pack until I reached the point where I was too far gone to continue. I tried very hard not to get to that point, but the horror of what I was doing was too much to face, so I just kept on drinking. After going over the line between buzzed and plastered, I would end up sitting on the floor wherever I was, bawling. At that point, I was doing far more drinking and crying than packing. Things were not looking good.

            Three of my closest friends came to help me move. We got things in the truck in record time. My friends said they would wait outside while I locked up. I looked around the empty house and reality came crashing down. I think that was the moment my heart broke completely. I was leaving my husband. I was ending my marriage. I was dying. I lay on the floor weeping, pouring the last of my broken heart onto the floor, and then somehow, I got up, wiped my eyes, and went out to rejoin my friends. 

I have been fighting the desire to drink ever since. I did go to one AA meeting. It was for women only and was held in a huge room in a gigantic, intimidating church. There were only two other women there. We sat huddled in a corner in the echoing room and they shared their stories. Then I told them mine, but their stories were so much worse than mine that I felt kind of stupid. They told about how they used to drink every night, had gone to work drunk, had gotten multiple DUI’s,  had alienated almost everyone they knew, and had basically hit rock bottom.

My drinking wasn’t nearly that bad. All I did was sit at home alone and drink every night. I still managed to go to school and work; I didn’t drive drunk, and, since none of my friends knew the extent of my drinking problem, had not alienated or even worried anyone. After listening to the other women’s tales of debauchery, my drinking didn’t seem so bad.

                                                     

I decided that I did not need to go to any more AA meetings, because the twelve steps did not apply to me. Admitting that I had no control over alcohol was the first step, and I chose to lie to myself and say that I did have control over alcohol. I was not powerless to it, so the first step did not apply to me, and neither would the rest. I went home with my 24-hour AA chip, feeling better about my drinking. Of course, I drank as soon as I got home. I didn’t have a problem.