Spirals

So I’m five days out of detox.

ME.


That is such an utter mindfuck to say. But damn, it feels good. I am at peace in heart and soul. And now I will find peace in my head.

I’ve learned so much. About myself and my demons, about how strong my support system is and about how strong I am to be able to pull myself back
from the edge and change. And I am so thankful for it.

I’ve learned about the power of my anxiety: the debilitating anxiety resulting from being mercilessly bullied and never being able to feel like
I could fit in or trust that I could be liked and accepted. And how the drink silenced the anxiety and made me okay.

And then it didn’t.

And then the drink heightened the anxiety, sending me into spirals of fear: fear of being misunderstood, fear of saying the wrong thing the wrong way,
fear of hurting people, fear of pushing people away and being alone, never mind that I KNOW now that I am loved and accepted and I am the happiest and
most secure I’ve ever been in my life.

Fear of living a self-fulfilled prophecy.

It’s all over now. I fear the work ahead to stay clean and purge the demons. But I’m not afraid of me anymore. And with that I am fucking untouchable.

Chwennah-Chwennah-Chwennah'fo Hours to Go-oh-oh

Jesus.

24 hours from right now I will be at the beginning of a three-day inpatient detox.

I don't know that I've ever been more shit-scared, mortified or flat-out sad about anything ever in my life.

Nor have I ever been more relieved, excited and optimistic.

But I have to get through the first half first...

Firsts, Lasts and Nexts

So basically it's come to this: one is good, ten is better, none is best.

First session with my new addiction counselor today. She has recommended a three-day inpatient detox, and I'm going to set it up tomorrow, hopefully for after work on Friday, since I can't take any time off the next two days. I'm not entirely surprised, as I've been spiraling out of control for a while, and I'm alternately relieved and excited to get control back.

But fucking HELL, I'm going to rehab!

Me! I've become a cliche! The drunken writer. I would never write such a hackneyed script. But there it is.

I'm thinking a lot of the firsts and lasts now. I'm having my last bottle of Malbec now, tomorrow night will be my last night of drinking ANYthing good ever again. And I'm terrified of the firsts: what will the first Thanksgiving without a perfectly paired wine course (and then another); first time visiting the in-laws and having to decline; first football Sunday without my tailgating fare... I'm basically looking at reprograming my entire fucking life.

GAAHHH!!!

But I can do it. I'm hardcore. I've done it before. And I'll do it again.

Because I have no choice.

Because I love life.

Because I love MY life.

Because I love me.

Here we go.......

The Week That Was

What I learned this week:

1. How utterly unaware of my past I am, how weak, vulnerable and human I can be and how hardcore and resilliant I am to be able to accept all of the above, make right with myself and others and put in the work to do better.

2. My wife is one hardcore tough broad, kidney stones and the ER suck and recovering from said is hard on all parties.

3. Nearly setting your house on fire is not a recommended course of events.

4. I have the greatest friends and family, in person and online, and I am fucking blessed for it.

I can't remember the last time I had such an educational week! Hope it's a long time before my next.

Words I Hate

ER
Kidney Stone
Pain
Nausea

It's obviously all worse for her, the actual sufferer of all of the above. But my anxiety is already in irrational hyper-sensitive mode. Not. Helping.

It's too late to turn back, here we go...

Today made one of the most terrifying and dreaded and, potentially life-changing, phone calls. Something to do with my health and well-being, or lack thereof. Don't know what will come of this, but I'm optimistic. In a shit-scared paralyzed kind of way. More to come...