Don’t worry, it tastes like shit (2)

                I’m a lucky girl. There’s no doubt in my mind that without my friends and family I’d be dead in a gutter right now. Getting the ultimate wake-up call by almost hitting a tree head on while driving drunk has helped too, but I attribute a great deal of my solid sobriety and being comfortable in that sobriety to the amazing people in my life. 

          “You’re crazy, but I love you,” is something each has said to me at one point or another. I’m sure they internally had some more choice words for me, but in their battle to remain friend not foe, they never pushed too hard when it came to my drinking problem. They remained sheepishly concerned, knowing I would do whatever I wanted and heed no warning, no matter how dangerous the obstacle ahead might be. 

          For me, bars and their equivalent were wonderful spectacles, drawing me in like fireworks whose larger than life colors excite you because of how beautifully dangerous they truly are.  In his hit song Piano Man, singer Billy Joel paints a perfect picture of this atmosphere when he likens the sound of his barroom piano to those of a carnival. That’s how I felt. Like each time I stepped into a bar, I was stepping into a wonderland of characters, sights, sounds and magical illusions. Except in this tale, I am not a clumsy and bewildered Alice, tumbling down a rabbit hole. I am a college co-ed dressed to the nines with a take no prisoner’s attitude, ready to devour night.

          In that place, everyone was my friend. Everyone was my buddy. I belonged. Only after I got sober did I realize my reality was a fantasy. The people hovering in dark corners getting drunk did not care about me. Those were not my people. Some were there to ease their heartaches and drown their sorrows. Others to hunt and drag their prey back to their lair to ravage. Some to celebrate and let loose. And others, like me, because they didn’t know how to stop.

          Since I’ve joined the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous, I’ve learned many people had to cut everyone out of their lives and start fresh once they stopped using. I am grateful that for me this is not the case. Of course I have let acquaintances and some friendships fade, but none that I’ve had to quit cold turkey. I’ve had the same group of girlfriends since I was in middle school. We’ve stayed close through all of life’s ups and downs, through distance created by college, and becoming young women. I’ve also been fortunate to make some amazing, lifelong friends during college. And of course, there are my saviors-my parents and sister. All of these people were there for me each time I stumbled. Picked me up off the floor and put me back together. The bartenders and drunken creatures of the night were not, and did not.

          Everyone’s experience with getting sober is different. Some, like me, feel comfortable being around “normies” who can drink responsibly and casually. Others feel the need to avoid places where drinking occurs to impede temptation. Do whatever keeps you sober, but remember you have the power to take back control of your life. A solution and support is available to you should you seek it. I hope that everyone who wants to get sober has people who care about them like I do.

           One of my best friends (forever witty and optimistic) has coined a phrase she uses to lessen the sting of abstinence. Every time she pours herself a glass of Barefoot pinot grigio, she looks at me with a flippant yet assuring expression, proclaiming

                                   “don’t worry, it tastes like shit.”

I do not miss drinking alcohol and wouldn’t change my life now for any glass of wine in the world, but I still laugh every time she says it and appreciate the sentiment. She understands I need levity and humor to combat my sometimes burdensome struggle.  Like I said, I’m a lucky girl. With the right people by your side, you can do anything.

          So start appreciating or picking the right people and take out the trash. Get sober for you and for them. It could save your life.

                                                                   

**Take what you like and leave the rest**

Get moving already(1)

I'm one of those people you can't rush. I didn't fill out my college applications until the deadline almost lapsed. You can call me ten times in a row, but if I'm sleeping, I will put my phone on silent and go to back to bed until I feel like getting up. And only after I've climbed out of bed, yawned, stretched and headed down to the kitchen to make some green tea will I call you back. I do not like to feel pressured or put on the spot. Spontaneity is not my thing. My biggest fear in life is being unprepared, so when I got arrested on May 22, 2011 for my second DUI offense and sent to jail for 36 hours, I was slightly uncomfortable to say the least.

 How long will I be here? Do I make friends or keep to myself? How long can I force myself to go without a shower? Do we even get soap or shampoo? When can I use the phone?

           Those thoughts only occurred to me after I'd had a free moment to process my situation alone in my cell. Before that point, my head was spinning out control, my emotions unmanageable. I promised myself after my first arrest a year and 8 months prior I would never end up back here, but that's the thing about alcoholism-it tricks you into making promises you know you can't keep, even ones to yourself.

My entire life has been a series of ballroom waltzes. Floating around atop a smooth landing, spending entirely too much time relying on fate to figure out my next move. I drank my way through my formative years, denying my brain the chance to process young adulthood through a clear and rational  lens. I lived in a dream land and drowned my sorrows and problems in whiskey. Naturally an insecure and unsure human being, alcohol gave me the boost I needed to come alive. Except I wasn't alive, I was like a trashy Stepford-robot wife. Putting on a show and exhibiting the same behaviors over and over with the same consequences.

Once I got sober after my arrest, I felt like an explorer who'd just discovered a new, untouched world. Everything looked differently from what I'd known and I wanted to see it all. I wanted to dive in head first. Baby steps and choreographed dances were a thing of the past. I emerged from the experience someone different. Something different. It was as though someone had taken my soaking wet brain, wrung it out like a towel, then hung it to dry in the fresh air of a warm breeze before putting it back. I felt clean again.

 I drank for eight years and have been sober for a little over two. My goal is to share my story and experiences as well as things that help me, inspire me, sadden me and educate me.

**Take what you like and leave the rest.**