Wednesday, April 16, 2008


I'm an alcoholic. Am I an alcoholic? How did it begin? With two drinks every night for the first month. Simone and I packed our days full of things that I didn't get to do with her when I was on bed rest. And I felt she had been SO cheated. And we went here and walked there, anywhere you could think of we went. And I said 'screw school work' I did what my 6 hour assistantship required of me, and that was it. And that's how it was for a month or two, some really bad days, but really good days (roller skating, bowling) too. I was so bitter on bed rest. Outward appearance, rosy, inward feeling, irritation, impatience, bitter at DH for not picking up more slack, for his excuses. I felt like, as if I wasn't put out enough by this whole thing, that he couldn't handle it without my mom and his mom up here for 6 weeks.

So when Myles died, I was in shock, and I started using alcohol right away. Haven't drank much since DD was born, you can't when you're pg, limited with bf, but I've never been an alcoholic. In those early days I was catatonic, I didn't want to leave my house sometimes. But getting over those hurdles, seemingly meaningless but like mountains for me; going to Simone's preschool, taking her to dance, going to my school, and it was stressful and exhausting. I was a bitch everyday when I got home.

Anyway, the one thing I looked forward to was alcohol. A drink while making dinner, in my own world, listening to political podcasts on my ipod. Not thinking, just mindless stuff, doing the dishes. Sometimes a friend would call and SURPRISE I was in the mood to talk, even make jokes and in the darkest hours pour out my soul and cry like I never would sober.

The hardest I've cried to anybody is when I've been drunk. And because I put off talking about Myles at the hospital (except for the pragmatic stuff, my sister and I are like Navy Seals in crisis mode when something happens. We take charge (weddings, funerals, any emergency (she's an ER nurse)). And in the hospital after talking to Myles, I kept it on the light side. I don't think I cried in front of anybody. Certainly not on purpose, they'd catch me crying all those wonderful nurses.

I have this ability to shut my brain off. It's my bodies way of compensating for the information/emotion overload. In the hospital, my mother was out of her mind with grief, and I didn't want any of it. I was sad. I was quiet I was contemplative. I was on really good drugs. And then everyone left. I smoked a cigarette the second we dropped Simone off at her friends house we could go make funeral arrangements. Even there, I didn't know what was expected of me and my DH had NO opinion. My family did, they had lots of suggestions where he could be buried, but I wanted him close. He is only a few blocks away in Wyuka, I could walk there at Midnight and sit and cry. I'm glad I chose burial, the cemetary has been a peaceful place to me.
And that's where the complexity comes in I guess.

Because the drinking to become intoxicated happened on a 'bad day' catatonic left the house, bought one of those 2dollar little alcohol bottles and some Whiskey (I usually drink mixed drinks). I went to the cemetary. Drank that little bottle down, and went and sat in front of his grave where I always sit.

I've got dirty knees from it today even actually, they had just put his sod down an it was a muddy mess. My chistmas card is gone that I wrote him. I will miss that. I liked the outside, “Peace, Miracles, Hopes, Dreams, Love” and of course all the holiday rubbish and merry Christmas son.

After that day I started to drink to get drunk. I started thinking that drinking all that pop wasn't good so I would just have a shot of whiskey or my new favorite drink that I found at the liquor store that day, black cherry rum. And I think that is where the numbing came in. These last few weeks, I have been probably legally drunk at midnight. But I'm happy, bopping around, doing laundry, cleaning the house, thinking of things to do to the house. Everyone's asleep and I get my own time. Before the wee hours, when I've had a couple shots and B or Simone come to help clean up or make dinner, I'm goofy, we play, I'm more relaxed.

Then the hangovers began. The long nights of insomnia, my refusal to take alprazolam if I'd been drinking. The culmination of it all was two nights ago. B worked late, Simone and I went to the park at 4ish, and I picked up some of that rum at the time. We played at the park, she road her bike, got some takeout, we went home, and went on to finish the bottle of rum by midnight. I don't remember anything. I have bruises on my knees I feel like I'm 19 again. Brandon was home and witness, Simone was asleep early that night luckily. I spent most of the time bawling to my Dad and Best friend (Allyson's mom from Las Vegas) about how disappointed I was in them. Or, not that, but I finally told them what I needed from them. What sucks is I don't even remember now. So they were monumental conversations that I have virtually no recollections of.

So. I'm not drinking anymore. Just decided to quit. I”m humiliated and back to the self deprecation. I had a good day today at first, but anxiey-ed out by late afternoon and went to see Myles and put up some new decorations, butterfly wind chimes (muddy knees). And now here I am crying. I came home, made dinner, worked in the yard, and I feel like I'm on edge. I feel the TMJ in my jaw. I feel the pit in my stomach. I feel disinterested in everything. And do you know what I want? A beer. I have eaten nothing today. I've drank two diet cokes, and sip of sprite ( a few calories). I'm not hungry. At least drinking made me hungry when it was all said and done (at midnight).

This is it, as honest as it gets.


Reese said...

After our son died, my husband and I had a semi-serious conversation about starting up a drug habit. We kicked around the pros and cons of cocaine, heroin, meth. We got drunk a couple of times after this conversation, sloppily made love and cried like little kids afterward.

I have no real wisdom, really, because every day I have to make a conscience decision not to go down the spiral, even though it looks like a hell of a better ride than we are all on. I have been strong so far, but it's only be 3 months---who knows what will happen tomorrow.

Wishing you a better day and just dropping by to say that I am thinking of you!

anarchist mom said...

Thank you.

That's all I can write right now. I wish I had a drink right now, and that is depressing. I've never been an alcoholic.

c. said...

This is such an honest post, anarchist mom. I wish you had something else to turn to. It makes me so sad that alcohol is offering you the comfort you need right now...and I don't mean that in a judgmental way or anything. I'm just so sad for you, sad that you have to feel this way. Four months is awful.