My drinking cost me a relationship recently. I was drinking and picked a fight. Not my first offense. The sad thing is I remember next to nothing of it. But all it took was for me to drink, we get in a fight and he saying he wasn’t going to be in a relationship like this again. Granted, I didn’t like his assumption that our whole relationship was going to be like that. Things could change. My actions were the underlying cause.
I’ve been looking back at my relationships. It started with Jeff. After my first marriage to a “bore” I began drinking and partying like I should have done earlier in life and grew out of. Jeff was an alcoholic. That was our whole relationship: drinking, fighting, breaking up, getting back together. I quit that after 8 years of trying to change him and he turned to other addictions. I didn’t drink much after that.
After my divorce I dated Daniel. We never fought but we drank, a lot. He didn’t really change when he drank. He was cool, calm and collected all the damn time. It didn’t cause a problem but I drove home from the local bar, Sam’s, more times than I should have.
Then Louis. It was a strange relationship as he lived in Georgia and was a locomotive engineer. But I did it then. I drank and I’d pick a fight. He eventually left. Looking back, I don’t blame him.
Then Jeff died. I began drinking more to ease the stress. I was dating Jeremy. Alcoholic. Let his underage children drink at home. I didn’t like that. And I’d fight him on that when I saw it happening. This was when we started finishing 12 packs and then buying more. We broke up amicably. I was happy leaving that whole mess behind and he didn’t want to change.
We’d do this in this relationship to, though: finishing a bottle of bourbon or case of beer then going and buying more. Not good.
Trying to get over this recent relationship involved three nights of finishing 12 packs before bed. I said I’d do this only to get through the breakup. But that’s a shit-ton of empty calories and I’ve been wanting to lose weight. I fixed the boys dinners those nights but didn’t feed myself. I was physically sick the next morning all three days. I was hungover-feeling just one of the days.
I have tried drinking only beer. I’ve tried drinking on weekends only. I’ve tried quitting for a week, a month. I’ve tried AA meetings.
I remember asking my dad once, a recovered alcoholic, why he never drank, not even one and I remember him saying, “Because I can’t have just one.” Oh, do I know the truth behind that.
I don’t want to quit for a week, or a month. I want to quit indefinitely. I don’t care about summer coming up and grilling outside with a beer. I don’t care about missing happy hours for a few months to get through this.
Enough is enough. I want to do this for me.
When you are crying for days and can’t sleep because you pushed someone you love away and you’ve heard family and friends admit they fear for you, something has to give
4.20…lol. I’m going to give up alcohol. This isn’t eloquently written and my thoughts are all over the place but I believe I’ve gotten my point across. Now, to just take it one day at a time and succeed at this.