How many times can you hit rock bottom?
How many times can you hit rock bottom? Asking for a friend...
Tuesday night marks my 10-millionth drinking escapade gone wrong. What started with an innocent glass of wine (or two plus a draft beer) at happy hour progressed into a gas station stop to pick up a Mike's Hard (and a snapple drink to dump out and pour the booze into) which then further progressed into a quick stop at CVS to pick up a case of Red's Apple Ale and pound 6 of them within an hour. So not only is this story pretty glorious because it all starts at 530PM on a week night, but it also falls in the middle of a volunteer organization meeting and results in driving under the influence (yikes).
Luckily, this writer made it home in one piece without hurting another individual physically. Mentally, however, I most certainly ran my fiance (ex fiance?) through the ringer. I wish I could say I remember what hurtful things I said to him (actually... maybe it's better that I don't). All I know is I ended up getting an Uber to my friend's house 20 minutes away, passed out on her couch, woke up the next morning at 4AM to get an Uber back home to get ready for work.
I cried my face off to him, hyperventilated, begged, pleaded, apologized... I groveled. He's done. He can't put up with it anymore. No matter what I say, it's all empty promises. I say I'll stop drinking - but I'll ask to drink; I say I'll moderate my drinking - but I'll ask to drink more; I say I'm done drinking - but I'll sneak a drink away.
Is this finally rock bottom? I thought I've hit it so many times before... like the time I got drunk and hurt him so bad we had to postpone the wedding (try explaining that to everyone you know)... like the time I dry-heaved for 18 hours the day after the wedding... like the time I woke up in a pile of my vomit in bed... like the time I couldn't figure out how to unlock my front door and slept on my stoop (again in a pile of my vomit) in the middle of the city... like the time I locked myself out of a hotel room and slept in the hallway... like the countless amounts of times I woke up in strangers homes not knowing who I was with or where I am... like the times I picked fights with everyone close to me (calling my best friend a slut, my other good friend a cunt, my mom a bitch)...
Where am I? Am I finally at the bottom of this wreckage? Or do I still have a lot more to lose? But seriously... how much further can I fall at this point?
I'm losing my future kids I pictured with this man. Our future home - a house we (well, he bought) but put countless hard hours of work into rehabbing. Just, our whole future. I can't imagine going home somewhere and not coming home to him. Or lying in bed at night... alone. Cooking dinner for one. Having no one to share my laughter, happiness, joys, and triumphs with. And on the flip side, not having him to help me through times of need.
What else am I possible losing? Booze. Psssht. So what?? This should be a no brainer. Give up the crazy juice and have a normal life. But why isn't it that easy? Well, probably because alcohol makes everything my life difficult and makes every easy decision the equivalent of brain surgery.
So, welcome to my blog... Pepto and Peptalks. My constant struggle of sobriety (& coming to terms with sobriety), flashbacks of all my glorious (and not so glorious) events with drinking, and hopefully an overall way to reach out to other individuals in this struggle with me.
Pepto and Peptalks always used to help me through the "morning after" of a night of bad decisions and vast amounts of liquor. Swigs from a bottle of pepto to help my sour stomach (I've purchased enough over the years to keep the company afloat), and peptalks from friends either reassuring that I wasn't that bad...
Tuesday night marks my 10-millionth drinking escapade gone wrong. What started with an innocent glass of wine (or two plus a draft beer) at happy hour progressed into a gas station stop to pick up a Mike's Hard (and a snapple drink to dump out and pour the booze into) which then further progressed into a quick stop at CVS to pick up a case of Red's Apple Ale and pound 6 of them within an hour. So not only is this story pretty glorious because it all starts at 530PM on a week night, but it also falls in the middle of a volunteer organization meeting and results in driving under the influence (yikes).
Luckily, this writer made it home in one piece without hurting another individual physically. Mentally, however, I most certainly ran my fiance (ex fiance?) through the ringer. I wish I could say I remember what hurtful things I said to him (actually... maybe it's better that I don't). All I know is I ended up getting an Uber to my friend's house 20 minutes away, passed out on her couch, woke up the next morning at 4AM to get an Uber back home to get ready for work.
I cried my face off to him, hyperventilated, begged, pleaded, apologized... I groveled. He's done. He can't put up with it anymore. No matter what I say, it's all empty promises. I say I'll stop drinking - but I'll ask to drink; I say I'll moderate my drinking - but I'll ask to drink more; I say I'm done drinking - but I'll sneak a drink away.
Is this finally rock bottom? I thought I've hit it so many times before... like the time I got drunk and hurt him so bad we had to postpone the wedding (try explaining that to everyone you know)... like the time I dry-heaved for 18 hours the day after the wedding... like the time I woke up in a pile of my vomit in bed... like the time I couldn't figure out how to unlock my front door and slept on my stoop (again in a pile of my vomit) in the middle of the city... like the time I locked myself out of a hotel room and slept in the hallway... like the countless amounts of times I woke up in strangers homes not knowing who I was with or where I am... like the times I picked fights with everyone close to me (calling my best friend a slut, my other good friend a cunt, my mom a bitch)...
Where am I? Am I finally at the bottom of this wreckage? Or do I still have a lot more to lose? But seriously... how much further can I fall at this point?
I'm losing my future kids I pictured with this man. Our future home - a house we (well, he bought) but put countless hard hours of work into rehabbing. Just, our whole future. I can't imagine going home somewhere and not coming home to him. Or lying in bed at night... alone. Cooking dinner for one. Having no one to share my laughter, happiness, joys, and triumphs with. And on the flip side, not having him to help me through times of need.
What else am I possible losing? Booze. Psssht. So what?? This should be a no brainer. Give up the crazy juice and have a normal life. But why isn't it that easy? Well, probably because alcohol makes everything my life difficult and makes every easy decision the equivalent of brain surgery.
So, welcome to my blog... Pepto and Peptalks. My constant struggle of sobriety (& coming to terms with sobriety), flashbacks of all my glorious (and not so glorious) events with drinking, and hopefully an overall way to reach out to other individuals in this struggle with me.
Pepto and Peptalks always used to help me through the "morning after" of a night of bad decisions and vast amounts of liquor. Swigs from a bottle of pepto to help my sour stomach (I've purchased enough over the years to keep the company afloat), and peptalks from friends either reassuring that I wasn't that bad...
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