So I've been completely alcohol free for one week and one day. I feel amazing. I guess I haven't been sober this many consecutive days since last summer when I did my little 2 month sobriety stint. It's like I have a whole new personality; to the point where people around me have noticed a change in my demeanor.
I'm pretty sure I've also landed myself a grown-up job. It's a marketing position, I'm excited to see how I like it.
Unfortunately I do find myself missing work. Not my club, specifically, but stripping. I'm starting to play with the idea of traveling out of town one or two weekends a month to work in various clubs in the southeast. To help with some extra cash and to alleviate some of the boredom I'm feeling being a normal person. We'll see.
Being sober is going to lead to an extra boring blog - I now realize that most 'drama' in my life is alcohol fueled. Imagine that!
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Done
So after a 3 or 4 or 5 day bender (you tend to lose track of time when you're trashed for days at a time) and the scariest withdrawal episode of my life it turns out I do have pretty extensive liver damage as well as an acute case of pancreatitis. The somewhat good news is that both are still reversible at this stage, predicated on the fact that I quit drinking.
I now know [honestly I've known for a while] I need to quit - for good. I am at the stage where if I don't I am going to die. It's not the dying that bothers me, but I think it would be an embarrassing way to go. I recently attended a family member's funeral who was an alcoholic. Funnily enough his actual cause of death was COPD, but his alcoholism was a contributing factor to his deteriorated health. He made it to 60, which was frankly older than most of us thought he would. He was in very poor health for the last 10 years of his life. Anyways, at the funeral I noticed all the stories and eulogies given by friends and family members had one think in common. He was nothing but a good guy, if not a bit of deadbeat, but everyone started their speeches with "we all know [deceased] loved to have a good time, probably too much..." or "[deceased was no stranger to alcohol..." That's what everyone knew him as; the alcoholic. I realized that my funeral would be very similar, well, with less attendees because God only knows that most people don't think I'm a very good person and I'm sort of short on friends; but the two or three people in attendance would probably mention my drinking, especially if it was the cause of my death. I don't want to be known as the alcoholic, a title I can only blame myself for. Truth be told, I don't want to be known.
I'm seeing a psychiatrist tomorrow, something I should have done 6 years ago or so. I guess I always had the attitude that people on medication for mood disorders were weak. Because we all know drinking a fifth of vodka a day and going on week long benders is a much more impressive way to deal with problems.
I guess I figured I could always make excuses for my drinking. In the beginning there was truth to my excuses; I drank at work because it made it easier to not think about what I was doing and hey, it was fun. I drank at bars because I went out with friends a lot. I drank at the pool all day because it's a holiday weekend. It's only when I started drinking by myself at my apartment that these excuses tended to fall apart. Now I don't necessarily think that day drinking or even drinking alone are indicative of alcoholism. Drinking to the point of incoherence and then risking your life and the lives of people around you to drive to the liquor store to continue drinking is definitely indicative of a problem.
Whether I was self medicating or bored or depressed or whatever I don't even know. I was so good at rationalizing and lying to myself that I can't even tell you what my reasons were. At the time I put a lot of blame on the ex. No doubt what he did was shitty - ditching me to go to a wedding with his ex and not telling me or contacting me - definitely shitty. Most people have crappy relationships and break ups and deal with sadness for a while and then get the fuck over it. Causing it to debilitate you to the extent of barely functioning indicates a deeper problem.
Point is, I'm not sure where my love of alcohol turned into dependence on alcohol, but it definitely happened somewhere along the line. Everything I read says that alcoholics, if they decide to quit, need to quit for good. Some get the idea that they can moderate their drinking after a bout of sobriety and within a week or two they're back to crippling alcoholism. I guess that means I'm done. Not to mention my dying liver and pancreas. It's going to be hard. My friends, all two of them, are heavy drinkers. Not in the same way I am, but they like to go out and drink and they drink a lot; usually to the point of blacking out or incoherence. I'm not looking forward to be the person that has to say no to every drink. I used to make fun of those people. "I can't trust someone who doesn't drink," is what I'd always say. Oh well.
I really hope my shrink appointment goes well. Even if it means going on anti depressants or anxiety medication for a while; God knows that's a hell of a lot less embarrassing than being some loser alcoholic.
In other less depressing news, I stopped by a nearby strip club last week because my neighbor works as a bartender there and she said I should stop by and check it out. I guess they're looking for a waitress, but in my sober state I know that working there would lead me back down the same path of self destruction. Well, I ran into a customer there, and he bought me a dance. From a guy. This is the club I worked at for a few weeks 5 or so years ago; the one with a guys' side and a girls' side. The dance I got this time was even more disturbing than the dance I got there a few years ago. The male stripper not only took his penis out, he started rubbing it on me. His bare penis was rubbing my chest. I was grossed out and asked him if he was gay, he said no. Luckily the dance didn't last very long and I left shortly after to go sanitize my penis caressed body at my apartment. I wonder if the guys I danced for doused themselves in sanitizer after they left - I sure did! There was never any genital on skin contact in my dances, so it's still way less grody.
I now know [honestly I've known for a while] I need to quit - for good. I am at the stage where if I don't I am going to die. It's not the dying that bothers me, but I think it would be an embarrassing way to go. I recently attended a family member's funeral who was an alcoholic. Funnily enough his actual cause of death was COPD, but his alcoholism was a contributing factor to his deteriorated health. He made it to 60, which was frankly older than most of us thought he would. He was in very poor health for the last 10 years of his life. Anyways, at the funeral I noticed all the stories and eulogies given by friends and family members had one think in common. He was nothing but a good guy, if not a bit of deadbeat, but everyone started their speeches with "we all know [deceased] loved to have a good time, probably too much..." or "[deceased was no stranger to alcohol..." That's what everyone knew him as; the alcoholic. I realized that my funeral would be very similar, well, with less attendees because God only knows that most people don't think I'm a very good person and I'm sort of short on friends; but the two or three people in attendance would probably mention my drinking, especially if it was the cause of my death. I don't want to be known as the alcoholic, a title I can only blame myself for. Truth be told, I don't want to be known.
I'm seeing a psychiatrist tomorrow, something I should have done 6 years ago or so. I guess I always had the attitude that people on medication for mood disorders were weak. Because we all know drinking a fifth of vodka a day and going on week long benders is a much more impressive way to deal with problems.
I guess I figured I could always make excuses for my drinking. In the beginning there was truth to my excuses; I drank at work because it made it easier to not think about what I was doing and hey, it was fun. I drank at bars because I went out with friends a lot. I drank at the pool all day because it's a holiday weekend. It's only when I started drinking by myself at my apartment that these excuses tended to fall apart. Now I don't necessarily think that day drinking or even drinking alone are indicative of alcoholism. Drinking to the point of incoherence and then risking your life and the lives of people around you to drive to the liquor store to continue drinking is definitely indicative of a problem.
Whether I was self medicating or bored or depressed or whatever I don't even know. I was so good at rationalizing and lying to myself that I can't even tell you what my reasons were. At the time I put a lot of blame on the ex. No doubt what he did was shitty - ditching me to go to a wedding with his ex and not telling me or contacting me - definitely shitty. Most people have crappy relationships and break ups and deal with sadness for a while and then get the fuck over it. Causing it to debilitate you to the extent of barely functioning indicates a deeper problem.
Point is, I'm not sure where my love of alcohol turned into dependence on alcohol, but it definitely happened somewhere along the line. Everything I read says that alcoholics, if they decide to quit, need to quit for good. Some get the idea that they can moderate their drinking after a bout of sobriety and within a week or two they're back to crippling alcoholism. I guess that means I'm done. Not to mention my dying liver and pancreas. It's going to be hard. My friends, all two of them, are heavy drinkers. Not in the same way I am, but they like to go out and drink and they drink a lot; usually to the point of blacking out or incoherence. I'm not looking forward to be the person that has to say no to every drink. I used to make fun of those people. "I can't trust someone who doesn't drink," is what I'd always say. Oh well.
I really hope my shrink appointment goes well. Even if it means going on anti depressants or anxiety medication for a while; God knows that's a hell of a lot less embarrassing than being some loser alcoholic.
In other less depressing news, I stopped by a nearby strip club last week because my neighbor works as a bartender there and she said I should stop by and check it out. I guess they're looking for a waitress, but in my sober state I know that working there would lead me back down the same path of self destruction. Well, I ran into a customer there, and he bought me a dance. From a guy. This is the club I worked at for a few weeks 5 or so years ago; the one with a guys' side and a girls' side. The dance I got this time was even more disturbing than the dance I got there a few years ago. The male stripper not only took his penis out, he started rubbing it on me. His bare penis was rubbing my chest. I was grossed out and asked him if he was gay, he said no. Luckily the dance didn't last very long and I left shortly after to go sanitize my penis caressed body at my apartment. I wonder if the guys I danced for doused themselves in sanitizer after they left - I sure did! There was never any genital on skin contact in my dances, so it's still way less grody.
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