I've been sober 3 years now. I've been a wife for 4 years, a mother for 7 months...and a student, well my entire life. Deep thought makes me think I was an alcoholic before birth, I certainly have the genes for it, and even in the womb I had control issues, or so my mother claims.
I marvel at people who can remember exactly when they realized they were alcoholic. Me, there is no memory of the "Aha!" moment. No realization of "okay, drinking is THE problem". Nope, I know that I was aware of my problem long before I put the booze down, but can't pin point when that was. And it troubles me. Doesn't keep me up at night, but for someone who likes everything in neat and tidy boxes, it drives me a little nuts.
What I do know is that I know the moment I realized I would never be able to drink again. It was winter of 2007, my body was full of aches and pains, which at 35, was a problem. I had thought for at least a year, I could feel my liver throbbing. And now I had proof. I had already been diagnosed as a Type 2 Diabetic a few weeks before I went to see an endocrinologist. Blood tests revealed I had a fatty liver. The doc was kind, but matter of fact: I was killing myself with every drink I took. I left his office scared shit-less with an insane thought: what the hell was I going to do on vacations??
So I went home to tell my husband that I had quit drinking. Being that we drank very heavily together, I was scared I'd lose him. He sounded supportive after I laid out what the doc told me. So, I started a sober life. A sober, hermit-like life. I was too afraid to see friends or go out. Every place in town was a place I spent MANY drunken days and evenings. I made it about 8 weeks. Our first anniversary was a beautiful day. We'd both taken the day off, went to eat some crabs, and I thought "one beer won't hurt". So I had one beer. Then we went to a great local brewery, where I said "no shots, just beer". Three beers later we went to a fine steak dinner, got a bottle of wine, and we didn't even finish it! "Wow", I remember thinking "I've got this, I am not like THOSE other alcoholics". A week later we were at a party, suffice it to say, I did not "have it". Shots, enough beer to stagger a sailor, remember falling from a sitting position. I still have a tiny scar from where my ring dug into my finger when I tried to break my fall.
So that was my last drunk. The next year was a bitch. Staying sober was not the problem, it was my marriage, my self-esteem. I begrudgingly went to A.A., at my therapist's urging. Found I liked it, in a group therapy kind of way. The second year started off great. Hubby finally realized his drinking was effecting our marriage and my sobriety, sanity. Then my Dad got sick and died. We were in the middle of hellish IVF cycles to have a baby. I got laid off. Went back to school. Started the adoption process. Year three has been a mixed basket thus far. New baby! Finished one part of school. Still jobless, looking to apply to a masters program.
Most days are filled with incredible bliss, but there are those days that creep up on me. I want a drink. I long for care-free days, of being able to "check-out". The knowledge that everything I have worked so hard for could be gone because of that one little drink jars me back to reality. I started this blog to keep me sober, if it touches someone else, all the better. Peace.