So…..I’m reading this Year of Living Sober blog and I’m thinking, WTF! Who wants to do that? Just kidding. I am not trying to encourage alcohol consumption or condone alcoholism, although if you are reading this and under the influence, I applaud you for doing what it takes to get through my ramblings. Sort of seriously though, the blog isn’t written by a recovering alcoholic, but rather someone who just wanted to give up drinking for one year.
I decided to analyze my relationship with alcohol. Alcohol and I started seeing each other back in the seventies when my father used it as a cure-all for any fever, coughing, toothache or what have you. He gave us (bro, sis and myself) a shot of Spanada wine and would send us to bed. Like a dumbass, I thought it was some cure. Now that I have my own children, I realize he just was trying to get us to go to
fucking bed and leave him alone.
Alcohol and I started to date again while I was in highschool. There were parties here and there, breaking into parent’s liquor cabinets and an unplanned “so drunk I blacked out” episode during a dress rehearsal. In college, we got hot and heavy. Too much drinking and not enough studying. Sorry dad. I did graduate though. Between college and children it was all about drinking socially. occasionally this led to not remembering the ride home, which means at some point it became anti-social and I was just a drunken mess. I did say ride though. I did not drive. The good news is, my current relationship wasn’t that wonderful, so being out of it on occasion was a blessing. Besides, I got better looking when I drank. Yes….I meant it the way I wrote it.
This leads us to today. Back in May of 2011, right before finals in my nursing class, I decided to have a few beers (3-5) at night to destress myself. This became a few beers each night except for four in the last eight months. Now….three of those four, I didn’t drink at all. One out of the four, I got a bit carried away at a friend’s birthday bash and mixed a few different alcoholic beverages. Needless to say, I slept on the bathroom floor all night…..for convenience of course. I blame her for having a party. What a bitch! My husband kept telling me we had to leave. He blames me for sneaking drinks behind his back when I was slurring as it was, just to stay longer. Let me see here. I’m 41, slurring words and sneaking alcohol. Hmmmmmm! So……I wasn’t suffering from a stroke, a neuromuscular disorder (ALS, cerebral palsy, MS or Parkinson’s) or Lyme disease. Oh my freaking hell! I guess I was
fucking drunk. As a police officer, I would think my husband would know how to identify a woman, who is drunk off her ass and incapable of being responsible. I guess he was blinded by his immense love for me or the hope of drunken sex. Sadly, not much action on the bathroom floor. Just a lot of flushing.
Just keeping it real: This is already too long, so I will write more on this later. Also, I only had one beer left, so I had to bust open the boxed wine. Nothing but the best baby. Two glasses while writing this and I’m good. Off to bed.