I had a dream my mother called me and I answered and she was crying and said, “I’m sorry. ” I took that as one of the boys had died. I woke up instantly. Fear enveloping me. Jake’s beside me in my bed and Jackson is asleep downstairs on the couch. I reach my hand out and touch Jake. He moves. He’s alive. Jackson, I’m sure he’s fine. It was just a dream.
I laid there holding Jake and thinking about how I want to get up and make them breakfast tomorrow. I can’t remember the last time I cooked a breakfast for them. Usually I’m hungover or tired and sleeping in and letting them grab whatever from the pantry and fridge. I think, I don’t want to be that mom anymore. I want to be responsible and provide for my children. Make them a damn breakfast. I don’t want to wake up feeling like death because I’m hungover from the 12 pack the night before.
I went to a meeting tonight. I sat beside a woman who offered to be my temporary sponsor. I’m to call her tomorrow. Tomorrow might be hard. I usually begin day drinking and do whatever I’m doing that day. Beer in a container down by the pool. A run to the liquor store midday with the boys in tow.
I said we needed to go to the store Wednesday and Jake asked if it was for beer. I don’t want to be that mom anymore. They deserve better.
I almost feel like I wasn’t an alcoholic because this feels too easy. I’ve got it in my head I don’t want to drink anymore. I actually felt guilty talking to my sponsor tonight because I’m not struggling.
I’ve done this before. I will convince myself that I can handle two beers. (Because you can’t have just one!) Two beers turns into three because I’m not buzzed. Six beers later I finally have a buzz. To be honest if I want to feel good it’s a 12 pack. If I want to feel great (not the next day, however) it’s bourbon. I forget I’m a single mom with the great responsibility of raising children alone since their father is dead. I forget I’m alone. I don’t think about how I’ll never find anyone better than Adam. (To be honest, it wouldn’t take much to be better than him. I wasn’t entirely happy when I was with him anyway. I’m just afraid I won’t find someone as mature, established and settled as he was. Ok, he was in great shape too. ) He was fun to talk to once I began drinking and spewing drunken memories and wisdom. I often talk about the past and perhaps maybe live in it too much.
I don’t need to do that. I have to leave the past behind me and look forward to the future. I have to stay sober to have a good future.
Jake saw a star last night and I’ve told them to always wish on the first star they see. He told me he made a wish but it didn’t come true. He wished for his dad back. I didn’t cry. I felt sorry him. I know this must be hard for them. I wonder how much they remember of him or are they missing a father figure like most of their friends have. I make a mental note to talk to the school counselor about talking with them.
I have so many reasons to quit drinking and not many reasons to continue. I don’t want to do what I usually do and think in three weeks I can drink. I control myself. I can stop at three.
What scares me the most about the last time I drank was I never thought to stop or slow down even. I never once thought about how I’d have to get home that night. I didn’t think about what he thought about me. It never occurred to me that I should stop, I’ve had enough or too much. I don’t even remember the third bar we went to. I remember suggesting it then being in his passenger seat, telling him to pull over I had to throw up. I remember shrugging as he sped off after dropping me back at my car. I thought, “Oh, well, not meant to be. Maybe he’s mad I didn’t ask him back to my place.” It didn’t occur to me until the next morning maybe he sped off because he had a bad time, because I got drunk. Because I blacked out on a first date. I texted him an apology the next morning to ease my guilt. I didn’t drink that day, I was hungover. Luckily, it was raining and I didn’t have to go anywhere. I napped on and off on the couch all day. My children beside me. I drank a six pack Monday night to drown the loneliness now that I wasn’t texting him several times a day and receiving his inquiring texts. I drank to forget how lonely I felt.
I can’t do that. I need to face what ails me head on, confront it. I need to recover. I need to begin feeling things and figuring my feelings, thoughts and actions out. I need to not avoid them anymore. This is what I have to do sober. It’s not going to be fun or easy but I think it’ll be rewarding. I have a feeling, I hope it’ll be worth it. I have this hope after I do this something great’s waiting for me on the other side. Maybe it’s the love of my life in our own love story that trumps every relationship before. Maybe it’s financial freedom. (I’m not buying alcohol.) Maybe it’s the boys growing, learning and dealing with their father being gone easier. Maybe we’re just all happier because I’ll be present and not drunk or recovering in my bed. I know one thing, whatever I do can’t be worse than what I was doing. I only have one way out from here and it’s up. I feel confident I won’t pick up a drink. I can’t say I’ll feel that way every day and a month from now and that scares me. But at least I’ve got a temporary sponsor and I’m establishing a routine of meetings and a network, I’ve entered a fellowship, a meeting topic tonight.
I have the highest hopes for all of you reading this, if anyone has sat long enough to read this far. I thank you for giving me joy when I see the “likes” or page visits. I thank you for giving me hope that my story might influence someone else. I hope in some way I’m a little different from the next blogger, in a good way. I hope you all realize you’re in a good place like I am because I’m alive. I’ve awakened and am greeting a new day. I’m lucky and have a fresh start.
I’m not going to reread this long blog for typos. I often don’t if you haven’t noticed:) I’m going to let this be another “diary entry” as I call them. I’m going to face today a little at a time, call or text my sponsor and not “get through” another 24 hours. I want to live for 24 hours. I want to take it for what the day is, a present, a gift.
I’m giving myself a chance to start over better. Everything in my body is telling me to take it. Everything is telling me that if I get through this now I won’t have to do it later and I’m feeling strong enough to do so at the moment. I’m taking advantage of this feeling of confidence and strength and using it in my favor. God knows everything I’ve been through. I’ll get through this too.