I realize that title has the distinct whiff of “bait-click” about it, but I’m only partially ashamed. There’s a reason why we click on titillating headlines and discover that the promise isn’t exactly fulfilled (I mean, how great could a story be that ends with “…And You’d Never Imagine What Happened Next!” I can imagine quite a lot, thank you. But I think this is a good post, and I suppose I’m not above a little bait-clicking myself.
For the record, I’m not planning on getting drunk, so no one form a posse just yet. Side-note: would anyone actually form a posse, virtual or otherwise? Perhaps. Still, I imagine if I was planning on getting drunk and proceeded to do so, I wouldn’t announce it here or to anyone else. I’d just fucking do it. Again, not in the cards, people. And you can chalk up my salty language to some Tarantino films I’ve been watching lately.
Earlier, I was talking to a colleague about an event she has to attend for work that I plan on skipping. Without giving away too much detail, it’s boring and hot and dreadful and I avoid it at all costs. I asked her, “How do you plan to get through it?”
Without hesitation, she replied, “Easy. I’m going to get drunk before.”
I burst out laughing, and not just an ordinary laugh, but a deep, long belly-laugh. I have no doubt my friend will get drunk (actually, not drunk, but probably good and tipsy) before attending the event. She’s a social drinker. She used to be in a relationship with an active alcoholic, and that was one thing that made her leave. She goes out with friends and drinks, drinks with her boyfriend, drinks on vacations…but I’ll wager she’s never hidden bottles around the house or drank before work. I’ll further wager that she’s never stared guiltily into her freezer and promised herself just two more shots of vodka before screwing the cap back on and saving the rest for tomorrow, knowing full-well that the bottle would be empty within the hour.
A few months ago, her reaction would have triggered me…but…hold on. Dammit. The paragraph I just typed made me salivate. Literally, I’m wiping my mouth right now. I can see myself in front of my freezer, running that exact scenario through my foggy brain, not caring about my 168 days.
I do care about my 168 days of sobriety, and my family and friends care about them, too. I know the shame I would feel if I drank, and I know that the thirty minutes or so of feeling my cares wash away in an alcoholic tide wouldn’t be worth the pain (physical and emotional) and the absolute shit-storm that would come later.
I can’t fool myself that I’ll ever be able to drink like a normal, non-alcoholic person because I can’t. EVER. And here I was thinking that since the conversation with my friend only provoked laughter, I was out of the woods for the day. Wrong.
I will leave work and pick up my kids and go get my dog, who’s waiting for us at the boarding place. Before that, I will go to the store and get milk and cereal, and I will avoid the wine aisle.
I will not stop by the liquor store.
If you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you may have heard me quote my art therapist from rehab: “Thoughts won’t kill you, emotions won’t kill you, but drinking again can and will kill you.” That may not apply to everyone, but it sure as hell applies to me.
Deep breath. It’s going to be okay.