Here is where I am… day 22.
And let me tell you, it f-ing sucks.
Don’t get me wrong, I am super happy that I have made it to day 22, but it has been WAY harder than I had ever thought it would be.
After the first 2 weeks, I really felt like I had this issue called addiction by the balls.
I was winning. It was losing.
Not the case.
It is still in the game, fighting and wanting to play…hard.
Making me feel like a puppet and the drink controls the strings.
The last 3 days have been the absolute hardest. My mind has been totally messed up. The urge and desire and need to have a drink has never been stronger. And what is messing with me, is that I am feeling stronger yet weaker all at the same time.
Last night I almost drank.
I seriously was going to just do it.
Who gives a fuck?
That was my attitude last night.
I wrote my last blog on accountability.
I got a tattoo that says “just breathe…”
And last night I was ready to just throw in the towel.
With tears streaming down my face, my husband sat with me.
Not knowing which way to go with me.
Let me have a drink to ease my so-called suffering? Or, be strong for me and hold me off as long as he could and just let me cry it out?
Crying is new for me and for him to see.
But, I have cried for the last 3 nights.
The reason why I say crying is new… is because I am on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills. These two together have pretty much numbed a lot of my emotions for years.
So, the fact that tears were just streaming down my face made me know that this was big.
This is bigger than I had ever thought. And that is what my husband saw as well.
During any of our fights, or tragic events that have happened throughout the years, I haven’t shed a tear. This has always been confusing to us, but it wasn’t until I realized it was because of my medication that I understood my constant state of non-emotion.
But these last 3 nights…
The tears felt good.
They felt real…something I haven’t felt for a very long time.
Wet and salty, dripping down my chin. Landing on my shirt.
Crying and making moaning sounds, I told my husband that I was ‘such a loser’. He grabbed me and hugged me to him. Telling me I was brave and strong and virtuous. He said he was proud of me, that I was doing something important. That people were watching me and that I couldn’t fail.
As I pulled away from him, leaving a tear soaked shirt behind, I realized he was right.
I need to continue to hold myself accountable.
I can not give up.
I can not.
I know that is why I started and shared this journey with you. Because if it was just for me, I would have gotten drunk last night. I know that for sure. 100%. No questions.
The reason I didn’t…because people are watching and supporting. And one thing that anyone who knows me knows, is that when I am responsible for someone else… I always come through. No matter what.
I have always been much better at being there for others than I have been for myself.
If you need me, I will be there.
If I can help you, I will.
It I can comfort you, I will do it.
I do not like to let people down.
So, thank you.
Thank you to the people I know and the ones who are supporting me and becoming a part of my story.
It is because of you, I believe, I will get through another day.
As my mom said to me today, during our conversation of trying to understand my problem, “this is not an over-night fix.”
This is a work in progress. It is in daily motion, and it feels alive in me. And it is not going to just go away.
It wants to stick around.
To test me.
So, I need to move my mind set to understanding and acceptance.
Admit that I have a problem that requires daily attention and work.
And not let the night win.
So, as another sun sets, I will hold tight to my success of the last 22 days, and look forward to the sun rise for day 23.