ACaliGirlTalks

Two years ago today, I got blackout drunk for the very last time.

I was bar-hopping on Brady Street with a friend of mine, and had that “one-shot-too-many” that many of you might be able to relate to.

I was one of those lovey-dovey drunks, and there was no shortage of men gathering around me at this point. One in particular had caught my eye and I noticed a wedding ring, but in my drunken haze, it barely registered and apparently didn’t register at all to him as he came closer and flirted shamelessly with me, and I with him. Of course he insisted on buying us a shot and next thing I knew he and I were getting friendly and thankfully, my friend grabbed me by the arm and told him “we’re leaving, bye”, and we walked the couple blocks home.

I have zero memory of getting home; I do remember the room swaying and falling into a deep stupor. When I woke up, I vowed “never again”.

That was two years ago today. I haven’t had a drink since.

I felt hungover for a week. Sure, I’d been blackout drunk a few times, but nothing like that. I could’ve died. Knowing what I know now about alcohol poisoning as an addictions therapist, I shudder when I think about my behavior that night. I learned many lessons that night; one of them being that “more alcohol does not equal more fun”. So many of us think it does. This is more than bad math; it’s dangerous.

After the memory of a bad hangover passes many of us rationalize it like it was a bout of terrible food poisoning–something we can probably control if we pay attention. I was no different; about 3 sober weeks later, the bottles of wine in my kitchen were beckoning me. I love to brag that I was a wine snob—years of drinking in California and touring wineries you can get that way. I never bought a bottle of red wine under $25 and the chardonnay I preferred had to be dry, California chardonnay. If it wasn’t wine, it was expensive vodka, never the cheap stuff. Usually Grey Goose, but I also loved peach Citron with Fresca. Damn, so refreshing in summer (don’t forget the lemon wedge).

Depending on what food I would be eating or whom I was dating, the liquor would change with them. Who can eat tacos without a margarita? Who can eat wings without beer? A steak without a rich cabernet to “bring out the flavor”? We are socialized to pair food with alcohol, and it’s hard to sever the two. Army guy drank dark rum so I drank dark rum (and gained a bit of weight in the process). A Tinder guy I dated drank gin so I drank gin.

Prior to the blackout night, I had become uneasy at my job in a residential addiction facility; I was going home and having a couple glasses of wine nightly. Here I was surrounded by people who were REALLY struggling to stay sober and I would be thinking about the wine waiting for me at home that I could have because I didn’t have a problem.

So about three weeks into being sober from the blackout, I asked myself, “could I stop for a year?” I pondered that question for about another week. The very fact that I didn’t know the answer was highly concerning as I sit here today and recall my thinking at the time. Because three weeks sober is nothing when you’ve basically been drinking your entire adult life (and I’m no spring chicken).

One shift in particular got to me; at the end of their evening “Reflections” group, all twenty of them got into a circle as usual, arms linked together, and quietly mumbled the serenity prayer in unison, then the chant, “Keep working, it works if you work it” loud and proud and BOOM!!!!!! Tears sprang to my eyes. I felt so humbled in that moment and knew what I needed to do.I made the decision right then and there that I would not drink for an entire year.

And when I got to my one-year mark, I knew there would be a two-year.

And here I am.

I have no doubt there will be a three-year, and a four-year and as many years as I have left on this planet as I’m a sober person now, and alcohol no longer tempts me. In fact quite the opposite; I’ve seen what it can do to people and I’m one of the lucky ones who could just walk away from it without needing to detox, or needing medication, or even AA. I wanted to know I could do it–make it a whole year without drinking. But I’ll share a secret with you–I never planned to stop forever.

Many of us hold that carrot out for ourselves which is the basis for the whole “one day at a time” mantra: we can become so overwhelmed with FOMO that we can “never” drink again we shift our focus to only “today”. When I shared with close friends that I was challenging myself to not drink for a year, I’d be asked if I’d start drinking again. The truthful answer was- at the time-I truly didn’t know.

Anyone who’s gotten sober and stayed sober will tell you that there are so many “lightbulb” moments in that first year and I am no different. I teach my patients that our relationship with our substance had become the most important relationship in our lives, and we have finally broken up with it for good. Why would we even consider going back to our toxic ex? That’s exactly what relapse is: going back to your toxic ex. “It’ll be different this time”; “he kisses so good I just want to feel him one more time then I’ll be able to walk away”; we have what we call “euphoric recall” and those wistful memories of the good times can become so strong they obliterate the reality of the blackout nights and all that came with it.

Like an ex, I recall many fun nights drinking to excess safely. (I could write a whole other blog post about those times–maybe I will at year three). Unfortunately many of us get to a point where it takes more and more to feel that euphoric high, and for some, they don’t even get there anymore, they drink because their brain tells them they have to just to survive. Because of the work I do, I was able to recognize where I was heading if I kept drinking at the pace I was at.

So today I celebrate two years alcohol-free, and no more yearnings to go back to my toxic ex. They say the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference. I feel nothing for my ex any longer; I am indifferent.

And that’s what healing from a toxic relationship feels like.

It’s truly wonderful being sober.