The Edge of Sobriety

I CAN, I HAVE, AND I WILL

2007-04-10T23:41:00.000-04:00

I RIDE. I bought my first bike in 1992.

I MISS IT because my bike has been Out Of Order for the past 2.5 riding seasons.

I haven't indulged in Adventuring -- the experience of Going Some Place HERETOFORE UNEXPLORED Alone -- in too long, and it's Time.

For 5 years, the time I spent with Master Carpenter, we never went anywhere! I couldn't get that man up off his Property.

But that's all finished. I'm buying a new bike. (My original bike is ancient) It's Time.

A Mother Goose Rhyme/synopsis of my past 5 years

"Peter, Peter
Pumpkin Eater

Had a Wife
But couldn't keep 'er

So he put her in a Pumpkin Shell

And There he kept her very well."

****

And then, she Woke Up and Said,

WHERE'S MY EFFING MOTORCYCLE! AND ALL OF MY TECHNOLOGY!

We're Going to Have An Adventure, AGAIN!

It Is Done, we're making plans.

Finally!

***

By the way,

I never drink and ride. That's The Rule.

I bought my own bike after I was involved in two major bike accidents as a passenger; Both of which I walked away from, but in all probability shouldn't have.

I decided I prefer to be in control, and In 16 years I've never laid the bike down.

Peace-Out,

Lee

A FAIRY TALE

2007-03-10T16:54:00.001-05:00

Once upon a time a Faire Maiden ("Maiden" may be stretching it a wee bit but this is *my* fairy tale) fell deeply in love with a hermetic loner who made his living as a Carpenter. And what fine craftsmanship was the result of his talented labors!

She was dazzled and in awe of his skill, and dreamt of a fine home they would some day build together.

Yon Faire Maiden discovered that The Carpenter was disturbed by her tendency to engage Total Strangers in conversation, and also by her desire to explore hitherto unexplored regions of the kingdom.

Nonetheless, since our Faire Maiden had heretofore led a free and unencumbered life, and because she was In Love, she believed that a bit of sacrifice for Her Beloved's emotional comfort was a small thing she could do, so she reigned in her natural tendencies and set about the business of Building A Lasting Relationship.

As time went on, our Faire Maiden also discovered that The Carpenter was disturbed when she would relate stories about her work in the kingdom. The Carpenter was hostile and suspicious of her most innocent (and necessary) interaction with any man. He began reading her email and checking her cell phone. He would question her about the most insignificant events or items ----- "Where did this fork come from?" (Her Mother) "Where did this pin come from?" (Her young co-worker) "Whose socks are these?" (Hers)

This went on for A Very Long Time. Our Faire Maiden began to speak less and less about her life to him, and her world became narrow and isolated. The less she communicated, the more critical he became. He accused her of infidelity, he accused her of lying to him, of betraying him. She vehemently protested her innocence.

And then, due to her faithful efforts in her work, she received a special invitation to attend the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For Three! Whole! Weeks!

And so, she went.

And while she was there, she was surrounded and embraced by extraordinary people, with creative and intellectual gifts and talents that confirmed and nurtured her own.

And by the time she returned, she was herself again, and hasn't thought of The Carpenter as more than a past memory.

The End

AFTER HOGWARTS

2007-02-28T20:08:00.000-05:00

*WHEW*

So, I've returned from Hogwarts, and lemme tell ya ... it was a deeply magikal experience.

I didn't get to meet Dumbledore, sad to say, but I dined in The Great Dining Hall and was able to meander around the hallways and corridors a bit.

My most prized possession is my badge that opens the locked gates and allows me access, but mostly I'm glad to know, once and for all, that there are people stranger than I and they roam the Hogwarts Campus.

I'd tell you more, but you know ... it's a secret.

SOBRIETY 2.0

2007-02-22T20:24:00.000-05:00

I'm upgrading.

Version 1 must've been just out of Beta, because I found some bugs.

BE CAREFUL WHAT YE ASK FOR

2006-12-10T20:59:00.000-05:00

I asked for this job. Desired it—deeply and purely—and I got it.

I'm a natural teacher. I'm patient. I'm flexible. I'm intellectually curious. I have large numbers of experience with technology, and most people thoroughly enjoy working with me, and I the same.

But we don't always hit home runs every time up to bat.

And sometimes, we totally strike out.

And SOMETIMES THEY'RE JUST EFFING LUNATICS.

I'm sorry, was I shouting?

HUMOR IN REAL LIFE

2006-10-28T18:39:00.000-04:00

My Client has Time Issues.

She recently returned from Boston with comments and changes for the project we're working on and is leaving town again on Tuesday, so it is imperative that we meet face-to-face to discuss the changes and next steps.

Originally I suggested we meet Sunday early-evening, but she nixed that idea. So, we arrange to meet on Sunday at 1:00. Then, Thursday night she changes our meeting to Saturday at 2:00. Then, Saturday I receive a call and she wants to change it to 3:00. During this conversation she decides Sunday afternoon would be better after all.

I finally said, "Olivia—how about Sunday evening?"

"Great!", she says. "What time is good for you?"

"How about early evening, about 5:00?" I reply.

"That sounds GREAT!", said Olivia. "Let's make it 5:30."

THE ANSWER IS YES

2006-09-28T21:00:00.000-04:00

IT'S OFFICIAL: I've been accepted to Hogwarts.

Platform 9 and Three-Quarters, here I come.

TUNE-UP

2006-09-28T20:18:00.000-04:00

At 116,500 miles, it was time.

The Firebird needed new oxygen sensors, a transmission flush and a major tune-up so I took her across the street to one of the few Texaco stations that still provide real auto mechanics' services and is owned by a trusted and reputable man, of whom I've known since high school. It wasn't going to be cheap and I wanted it done RIGHT.

The popular sentiment is that American-made cars don't last as long as Japanese vehicles and that they require more maintenance and out-of-pocket expense for that maintenance. At 116, 500 miles, I'm getting the "Ooooo ... might wanna look at selling, won't last past 150,000"

And to that I say "Watch Me."

Since the Firebird is no longer in production—and my Bird is bee-yoo-ti-ful—I want to keep her that way and running smoothly.

So I say, "Robert—winter's just around the corner, so bring'er up to speed. Nose-to-bumper, plugs, wires, fuses, filters, fluids, check everything and replace where necessary."

I decided to upgrade from a synthetic blend to a pure synthetic, and so provided the Mobil 1 and the Fram oil filter—because I always provide the oil and filter every precious 3,000 miles—but I did take a little pride when I presented my upgraded choices to the mechanic that Friday morning.

Late Friday afternoon I received the call that the car was ready, so I walked across the street and Robert himself was there to explain the work that had been done.

New gas filter and an in-depth explanation about the effect of the ethanol in the gas on the gas tank.

No fuses necessary—good.

Diagnostics showed nothing irregular—good

Headlamps adjusted, transmission flushed and all fluids replaced—good, good.

Wiring harness replaced—good, it had been attacked by a squirrel two summers ago and had since been wrapped in electrical tape.

Oxygen sensors replaced—good

Et-cetera, et-cetera.

Double-tipped platinum spark plugs

—What ?

—What ?

[ My sister's engagement ring is made of platinum, and there were several zero's involved ... ]

Robert went thru the list —each line item— and these numbers were adding up to more —MUCH more— than I had figured into my budget.

But my mind locked onto those DOUBLE-TIPPED PLATINUM SPARK PLUGS. And stayed there.

And then the final bill was tallied and presented to the tune of Eight hundred, Seventy-two dollars and forty-three cents.

That's right. $872.43

My next tune-up should cost about 50 cents.

* * *

On the flip side, the Bird is running better than the day I bought her.

I'm getting better gas mileage, and I love that instant-smooth, growl-purr when I cold-start her in the morning.

* * *

Post Script: When I bought the Firebird 5 years ago, I'm quite sure the original owners had never done any sort of maintenance, so I immediately introduced a synthetic blend oil every at 3,000 miles, and after thoroughly lubricating it for 2 years with a blend I'm using pure synthetic from here on out.

Mobil 1 is the choice of those who know best.

I'll get 300,00 on this Bird.

Watch Me.

TURNING BLUE

2006-09-25T17:32:00.000-04:00

End of this week

HOGWARTS, UPDATED

2006-09-13T19:05:00.000-04:00

I had my second interview tonight.

Definite answer within 2 weeks-ish.

Holding breath.

http://pandora.com/

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

2006-09-05T20:22:00.000-04:00

I have submitted my Application, and have a Preliminary Interview pending.

To Be Continued.

ABRAHAM

2006-08-28T21:14:00.000-04:00

Expectation is a focus with a vibration that permits the receiving of what you're focused upon—and, you expect things, both wanted and unwanted.

Your emotion, your indicator of vibration, is indicating the ratio between your currently focused desire and any other belief or thought that you hold about same.

When you feel negative emotion, anger about something, or fear... the name of the emotion does not matter, it always means that there is a desire within you that, in this moment, you are contradicting with some other thought.

Your emotions are always about your relationship with your own desire, and nothing else.

The more fear one has of anything, the more a vibrational match to the thing that they fear they are.

OR

The more love one has of anything, the more a vibrational match to the thing that they love they are.

SURF NAKED

2006-08-27T18:39:00.000-04:00

Guess what I did this weekend? Absolutely nothing and I enjoyed every non-productive moment.

Friday was the culmination of The Week From Hell, and I was PMSing. Pain—blah—yuck.

So, I did what any sane adult female might do: I lustfully indulged myself in movies, potato chips, salsa and excessive internet surfing. Naked.

Did you know that Pluto has been demoted from planet status?

GOODBYE

2006-08-27T11:16:00.000-04:00

The relationship ended in July. After 4.5 tumultuous years, we have gone our separate ways.

Goodbye, Colin. Good Luck and Godspeed.

And thank you.

TWISTED

2006-08-27T08:08:00.000-04:00

I began work with a chiropractor in June to re-align several twisted vertebrae in my spine. The misalignment has caused major muscle groups in my back to shorten and become knotted and the resulting pain had become intolerable. Excruciating. Incapacitating.

6 sessions into our work and I woke up one morning in so much pain I wanted to hit something. I was PMSing to boot. I felt horrible. My back was in knots, my boobs hurt, my abdomen was cramping. I was exhausted from battling the pain. I cried.

My chiropractor suggested prescription pain medication, which I considered, but it was Friday and I couldn't get to my general practitioner in time to obtain a prescription. So, I reached for alcohol. And it worked. Immediately—and with measurable relief.

Then I started to 'tease the tiger". Why? Because I wanted to. Is there really ever any other reason?

But I shut that door again. There's nothing behind it that's better than waking up free and clear of the inevitable hangover, which I abhor.

The gains I have made in these past months are far too valuable to relinquish. They are my personal, private victories and I'm just selfish that way.

In addition to the chiropractor, I've had several deep-tissue massage sessions. Brutal stuff —and expensive— but it's released those knots in my back much better than alcohol ever could, and that's all I really wanted.

LAW OF ATTRACTION

2006-08-26T12:43:00.000-04:00

The basic tenet of metaphysics is the Law of Attraction. It states that which you visualize/picture/imagine/state/verbalize will manifest in your experience.

Law of Attraction does not make judgments of "good" or "bad", "positive" or "negative". Creation is neutral. Only we make judgment on the outcome.

In metaphysics, the concept of belief or faith is, by definition, the absence of doubt about the outcome.

Emotion does not attract. Emotion is indicative of where you are in relation to where you want to be.

Richard Bach said in "Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah",

"Imagine the universe beautiful and just and perfect;
Then be sure of one thing:
the Is has imagined it quite a bit better than you have."

So, when reaching for that prize, that goal, that whatever-it-is your heart desires—be patient, be clear and FOCUS.

HELL FREEZES OVER. PIGS FLY.

2006-08-26T12:09:00.000-04:00

STOP IT. RIGHT NOW.

2006-08-06T16:42:00.000-04:00

To whomever the ASSHOLE is that's posting LINKS to MALE ENHANCEMENT PRODUCT SITES in the comments field of this blog—

STOP IT.

You're an asshole.

iPOD

2006-08-05T16:48:00.000-04:00

"Perfect for hiding your porn collection."

I WANT ONE

2006-08-05T16:18:00.000-04:00

(The chair — I already have the computer). Notice the Apple logo on the base.

ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY NINE

2006-07-27T17:44:00.000-04:00

Days.

TIES THAT BIND

2006-06-28T22:19:00.000-04:00

There was a storm
the other night

Had to talk to God
try to set things right

Church door was locked
Lord! I stood in the rain!

Waiting for an answer
—but it never came

I believe in Livin'
give it all I got

I'm strong enough
except when I'm not

A little piece of daylight
time to move on—

It's just a reminder
I can't go back home.

* * *

The Heroines
"Can't Go Back Home"
Tony Joe White & Shelby Lynne

BLIND FAITH

2006-06-28T20:42:00.000-04:00

Somebody holds the key

I'm near the end, and I just ain't got the time

Oh, and I'm wasted, and I can't find my way home

But I can't find my way home

But I can't find my way home

But I can't find my way home

But I can't find my way home

Still, I can't find my way home

And, I ain't done nothing wrong

But, I can't find my way home

* * *

Blind Faith
"Can't Find My Way Back Home"
Blind Faith

ANGELS AND DEMONS

2006-06-25T17:17:00.000-04:00

14 years ago I quit drinking because something was wrong. I hoped that by eliminating alcohol from my life, that which was wrong would fix itself. It didn't. I resumed drinking.

I'm extraordinarily fortunate to be employed (now) in an environment that encourages, promotes and rewards healthy mental attitudes. Yes, it's true. Rare indeed in this world, but it's true. I didn't believe it at first. 17 months of observation, disbelieve, searching for hypocrisy and hidden agendas and finding neither, and now, finally, I'm convinced that what I see is a living embodiment of a work culture that weeds out toxic, incompetent people and richly rewards those who sincerely bring a positive attitude to work, contribute new ideas that improve processes, and set an example of positive human interaction.

I have been at least willing to suspend my disbelief long enough to see if it were true, instead of automatically framing it within a paradigm of negativity wrought from years of dysfunctional and toxic relationships originating at home and manifesting later in the workplace.

I've experienced a slow dawning of realization that what's "wrong" is me. Not "wrong" in a moral sense, but wrong as in resistant. Defensive. Fearful. Aggressive. Angry.

It matters a great deal that my attitudes were born from adults who shattered my trust, violated my body, impregnated my mind with their own sickness ("You are a BAD PERSON!" "NO! I'M NOT!"), in effect warping my emotions and filling me with fear and hate and rage before I turned 12 years old. It matters because those early experiences robbed me of a lifetime of healthy choices. Yes, I do blame them. The point of origin for my unhealthy overreaction when faced with conflict, my over-developed perception of threat and my inability to effectively and rationally verbalize my point of view when faced with conflict, belongs solely to them.

About a year into my employment with this organization, and in the earliest days of my sobriety, I experienced a terrifying re-playing of a scenario at work that was, in detail, an exact replica (albeit a softer version) of action/reaction that ended in a meltdown I had in 2001. A detached part of me observed the playing-out of my behaviour and subsequent reprimands from my managers that I previously experienced in the most extreme of toxic work environments. Because I deeply believed in the sincerity and health of my current organization I knew, without a doubt, that I had created this situation and I would continue to re-create it unless something fundamental changed inside of me. Other people truly do "mirror" back to us what we are.

"Like attracts like."
"Birds of a feather, flock together."
"That which is like unto itself is drawn."
"You reap what you sow."

I've got work to do.

Fuckers.

THE ACCIDENT THAT WASN'T

2006-06-25T17:04:00.000-04:00

I put the laptop on the floor beside my chair and a few minutes later I'm stepping over the laptop reaching behind the desktop computer to plug in a firewire cable so I can transfer data and I get the cable plugged in and take a step back and my foot ...

... touches down directly on the top side of the laptop and I feel it and ... shift balance, keep moving that leg back until that foot has found solid ground.

Now. Had I been drunk, that laptop screen would have been smashed. I would have stepped on it. I've seen the results, and they are expensive.

THEY FIT

2006-06-03T15:11:00.000-04:00

Bought these 14 years ago to go with my first motorcycle.

6 months ago I couldn't even get them over my ass.

100 DAYS

2006-04-29T08:33:00.000-04:00

On January 20th, my belly measured 36.5". Now the tape measures in at 34. I can fit into the leather riding pants I bought 14 years ago and the jeans I bought nearly 5 years ago.

My strength is returning. When I began working out at this lovely gym, I thought it would take a few months before I began to see results. WRONG. It amazes me how quickly my body responded to the exercise.

Waking at 6:00 am is the norm now, and I don't even bother to set my alarm clock.

The circles under my eyes are gone.

100 Days.

COLOR

2006-04-16T10:06:00.000-04:00

HOUSE BILL 1215

2006-04-15T14:17:00.000-04:00

SPRING

2006-04-13T06:41:00.000-04:00

With the return of the spring come the birds and their morning chorus announcing the rising sun. It's one of those things I love and miss greatly during winter.

Somebody has built a nest on top of an abandoned squirrel's nest in the pine tree but I haven't yet actually seen who it is. I keep hoping it's the pair of grey mourning doves I frequently see sitting on the branches. Doves are my favorite. I adore their song and their calm but watchful temperament. They aren't very adept at building nests though—they tend to be rather flimsy structures. And that's why I hope they're using the squirrel's nest as a base.

It's warm, humid and rainy out today. I enjoy these days too.

Day 84.

"MA'AM? MA'AM?"

2006-04-06T06:29:00.000-04:00

Last night I parked the car and had taken three steps on my way into the grocery store when this little white car pulls slowly around the corner, angles toward me and comes to a stop.

"Ma'am? Ma'am?"

She was about my age, dark hair, petite—and she was crying.

She was asking me for money. $5.00 for gas. Her boyfriend had gotten drunk at a bar and taken her wallet. I gave her $10, and asked that she take the time to calm herself before getting on the highway. After all, along with the debit card, credit card and cash, he also had her driver's license.

She used phrases like, "probation, Jack Daniel's shots, can't drink, and my fault for agreeing to stop". Apparently, she'd gotten up to use the bathroom and he'd taken her wallet out of her purse. Apparently, he's "borrowed" her debit card before and, knowing her PIN number, wiped out her account while on a binge. I suggested it might be time to change her PIN number.

She kept saying "He's the sweetest, kindest man ... when he's sober".

11 WEEKS

2006-04-05T06:43:00.000-04:00

... and tomorrow marks 11 weeks.

I've shed an inch off my waist, two from my belly, three-quarters from my thighs. My strength is coming back.

After those first few weeks at the gym some sort of muscle-memory must've kicked in, because all of a sudden the weight and repetitions I was originally struggling with doubled.

On the drive home Monday I thought, "If you'd not stopped drinking, you'd be drunk right now—and out of shape and feeling really shitty about that."

PEACE

2006-04-01T06:43:00.000-05:00

SATURDAY 6:00 AM. I treasure this time before the sun rises. The world is so still, so quiet. It is so peaceful. It used to be that when I woke up, the voices in my head were yelling. I would be overwhelmed before I even got in the shower. These days, with an unbroken continuum of days in which I've been fully present, I am at peace.

I used to wake up too early, dehydrated, hungover, exhausted, too tired to get out of bed. I'd waste entire weekends drinking, sleeping and battling those awful feelings of having not done anything worthwhile.

Waking with a clear mind and light soul is the joy of my existence now. It feels as if I have been released from prison.

10 Weeks.

VANITY

2006-02-20T19:02:00.000-05:00

I have discovered that waking at 5:30 is a permanent byproduct of sobriety—not the fluke I imagined it to be. I've also discovered that I thoroughly enjoy this time.

I've joined a really nice gym, and am eating better food more regularly. I've dropped 10 pounds in 30 days and most of that I'm sure is due to the deficit of the nightly 1000+ calories I was guzzling.

I've been to the doctor for a physical (all's well—amazing), had my teeth cleaned, and am preparing to have $1500 worth of cosmetic dentistry done on the 28th.

Remaining sober has been easy. There has been no struggle, no fight to abstain.

Deciding to severe my destructive relationship with alcohol is a choice I've embraced. It doesn't involve sacrifice and I don't feel like I'm missing anything.

I think my age may have a lot to do with the lack of conflict. Kim Basinger was 40 when she made "9 1/2 Weeks" with Mickey Rourke. I remember thinking how stunning she was in that film, and I hoped to be as fit at 40.

There's nothing more pathetic than a mature adult female drunk off her ass in some bar.

I don't want to ever be that—again.

Vanity, Thy Name is Lee.

STATUS UPDATE

2006-02-07T06:22:00.000-05:00

I said I wasn't going to do this.

But I've changed my mind.

As of Sunday, February 5th, my Sweetheart and I are An Unit again. He asked me last night if I was going to post the news that we've kissed and made up (Ok, "kissed" is the G-rated version—but you get the idea) and I replied No.

And while I didn't quit drinking—strictly speaking—in order to save our relationship, it's important to note that his spending time (ok, more than just spending time as it turns out) with Another Woman was a painful wake-up call. Something akin to an electric cattle prod.

If I were truly evil, I'd send her a Thank-you note.

With a picture.

TICK-TOCK, TICK-TOCK

2006-02-05T20:40:00.000-05:00

Day 17. Coming in for a landing. I think I shall stop counting out loud now and let the Sobriety Calculator keep track of my days. Counting days is tedious. I want weeks!

DILEMMA

2006-02-03T07:01:00.000-05:00

I will NOT white-knuckle my sobriety. This will not be a struggle. Struggle is Un-fun and Boring, and I have a very low tolerance for un-fun, boring things.

The beauty—and the curse—of sobriety is that I now have the gift of Time; the logical conclusion is that I need a Long-term Plan to fill that time.

These activities must be fun and interesting Things To Do When You Don't Drink. Reality check: my attention span rivals that of a 5-year old.

Ah, the dilemma.

A natural outgrowth of my sobriety does seem to be that I am now waking at 5:30 AM. I haven't seen consecutive 5:30 AM's without an extenuating circumstance—Ever.

Day 15.

STRONG BODY, STRONG MIND

2006-02-01T06:42:00.000-05:00

6:15 AM: (Two days in a row I'm awake at 6:00. How can this be?)

A few days ago, the suggestion was made to write out how I visualize my life 5 years from now. I thought that was a really, really good idea—with one caveat. I think I'll start with just a year. 5 seems, somehow, a bit much.

This weblog is intended to serve as a chronicle of the many ways Life is better without alcohol—a reminder of why I choose to abstain. I forgot those reasons the last time and was blind-sided by the tricky bastard.

So here it is: I want my strength back. I used to be so physically strong I could do 30 successive abdominal crunches on an incline bench holding a 25-pound iron barbell weight (try that with a hangover). I could complete 3 sets of 10 leg lifts (both legs at a 90-degree angle from my hips) while supporting my entire weight suspended in a roman chair, and my upper arms were sculpted to perfection (this was before women began working en masse with free weights). I miss that body.

DAY 13.

SNOOZE

2006-01-28T08:39:00.000-05:00

8:30 AM: Briefly considered getting out of bed at 7. I did keep one eye open to watch the sun rise and after that glorious event, drifted back to sleep.

Day 9.

DREAMS

2006-01-25T07:44:00.000-05:00

7:45 AM: Wow. I had my first drinking dream this morning. Oddly enough, it was also an erotic dream (the details of which I won't go into on this blog).

Day 6.

RECYCLABLES

2006-01-24T18:58:00.000-05:00

7:22 AM: I hear the truck empty the blue recyclable bins into its divided compartments and wonder if the driver notices there is less to empty this week. My previously substantial contribution to the "Aluminum / Plastic Only" is MIA.

A quick tally of my consumption provides the following results:

8 Budweiser tallboys x 5 nights per week =
40 cans (crushed once in the middle)
5 gallons, or
6,000 calories
$35 per week

x1 month=
160 cans (crushed once in the middle)
20 gallons, or
24,000 calories
$140 per month

x6 months=
960 cans (crushed once in the middle)
120 gallons, or
144,000 calories
$840 every 6 months

One beautiful day last spring, I had just cracked open my first beer and was peering into the parking lot through the branches of the huge pine tree that spreads across my living room window when I saw an obese senior-aged Caucasian female digging thru the recycle bins.

I watched, horrified and fascinated, as she withdrew each of my neatly-tied 7-11 bags filled with dead soldiers (crushed once in the middle), ripped them open, emptied the contents on the ground and proceeded to stomp each can into eternal flatness with the heel of her foot.

I wondered what she was thinking. And then I realized that I cared. Not so much what she thought, but what my neighbors must think.

I started collecting the nightly beer can bags, putting them all into a single, white garbage bag and throwing it away at night when I thought nobody was watching.

INDULGENCE

2006-01-22T19:29:00.000-05:00

I admire women who take the time and money to pamper themselves. Not the wealthy bored who have nothing better to do with their time or money, but those who let the world know that they care enough about themselves to look and feel their best. My former boss—a beautiful person inside and out—was such a woman.

Every 6 weeks or so she'd have a different hairstyle. Her toenails were always manicured in the summer months. Her clothing was immaculate. She was always gracious and poised, and never once in three years did she raise her voice, use profane language or lose her temper. She told me the story of an all-day trip to a health spa she enjoyed. At the time it struck me as somewhat indulgent but I've always wondered what that would be like.

The last time I saw her she had taken up belly-dancing, dropped 30 pounds and was positively glowing. I'm seriously thinking I should take up belly-dancing. My abs and my ass could use some serious work.

This morning I had 3 inches trimmed off my hair and then colored it with henna. Henna is fantastic for two reasons:
1) It smells like tea and,
2) the grey strands end up looking like natural highlights.

I have eaten a total of a single cup of green bean casserole the past 96 hours. That's 4 days. In my world, appetite loss is an indication of extreme emotional upset. On the bright side, it takes a deficit of 3,500 calories to lose a single pound of fat, so by my calculations I'm down 1.5 pounds.

ALL GOOD THINGS

2006-01-22T06:48:00.000-05:00

SUNDAY 6:30 AM: There is a company meeting at 8:00 am. The Regional Manager will preside. It's 6:30 a.m. and I'm awake.

I do not feel heavy or slow or shaky. My heart is not pounding. I am not dehydrated. My head is clear. My eyes are not bloodshot and watery. My face bears no sign of heavy drinking. I do not reek of alcohol. I am not replaying any tapes from last night, trying to remember what I might have said or done that I regret. I do not have to go back and open my chat transcripts to see what stupid, drunk-induced things I might have said to hurt and alienate a friend.

I do not hear that screaming voice of condemnation. I am not burdened with shame or guilt.

There is time to record this, enjoy a cup of coffee, and watch the sun rise.

These are All Good Things.

"HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM"

2006-01-21T15:45:00.000-05:00

JANUARY, 1992. Several recurrent stressors in my life led me to think that perhaps alcohol was the underlying cause. If not THE cause, at the very least a major contributor. So I quit. Cold Turkey. Decided I wasn't going to drink and That Was That. It was easy, really, at that time. I had no overwhelming cravings, and I went out to bars and danced and drank ice water. The bartenders were not amused and ignored me.

At the end of that year, however, the stressors were still there. So I said, "Fuck it — THAT little experiment didn't change anything!" and never considered quitting again until 12 years later.

MARCH, 2004. A man who loved me started to cut me loose because of my (by this time) alcoholic drinking. I thought I could pull a repeat performance of my 1992 Act and Just Stop Drinking. Was I ever wrong.

I didn't expect to fail. I didn't expect it to be difficult. And deep down, I wasn't visualizing with any real conviction the rest of my life sans alcohol. I didn't have a support network. I wasn't aware that alcohol had embedded itself more deeply during the preceeding 12 years to the point that I was far more psychologically dependent upon it than I had been in 1992.

Three months later, when the cravings and temptation overcame me I caved. I failed and I didn't want to acknowledge just how far along my dependency had progressed. My rapid descent into my old drinking patterns swallowed me up as if my brief absence from drinking somehow needed vengence.

JANUARY, 2006. My drinking has now progressed into an every-night ordeal. A 6-pack of tallboys, or if that particular configuration isn't available, a 12-pack. I'm just not picky that way. Somewhere in between 2004 and last month I have mysteriously upgraded my tolerance from drinking every 2 days to drinking every night.

I honestly don't know how I make into work on time, every day. I'm positive my BAC each morning is above the legal limit. I wear perfume and chew Altoids to mask the alcohol stench emanating from my body. My eyes are sensitive, my head fuzzy and I am starving because I began drinking on an empty stomach. I am unsure of myself at work. I maintain a physical distance from my co-workers so they won't smell the alcohol on my breath. I am self-conscious and emotionally fragile.

"HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM"

Because I have preferred to sit at home and drink, my social network is non-existent. I can see this pitfall. And I'm ready when the craving hits. But this time I'm going to ask for help:

Is There Anybody Out There?

AND SO I BEGIN

2006-01-21T12:26:00.000-05:00

According to my Sobriety Calculator, I have not had a drink in 1 day, 15 hours, and 38 minutes. This is quite the accomplishment, in light of 2 facts:

1. The love of my life was entertaining female company last night that wasn't me, and—

2. I have not had solid food in well over 48 hours.

The reason he is spending time with her is because I drink. To excess. Every night. And he doesn't. Ever. Drink. Because he can't and he won't. He's been sober for 12 years and dating me for the past 4.

I've been reading some of the blogs about recovery and struggle and life without alcohol. Maybe, I thought, I could do it too. I recognized myself on those pages. The blackouts, the tantrums, the cruelty, the remorse, the shame and mortification. I deeply appreciate those women who have written with such honesty and transparency about their struggles. You have given me the courage to expose my own to public scrutiny.

As long as I had never been fired from a job for alcohol-related issues, had a DUI, or wrecked a car I figured I could continue to drink. But when I look down this path all I see is waste. And I really, really don't want to wreck my car or get a DUI or lose my job.

In early 2004 I quit drinking for almost 3 months. This man I love so deeply was cutting me loose. His reasons were crystal and I couldn't defend my drinking. But it was a daily struggle and ultimately I failed. I thought about alcohol all the godamned time and counted the hours and days I had "Gone Without". I resented it. I couldn't fully commit to the idea of living life without drinking. He put more distance between us, for his own well-being. I respect that.

I failed because I could not honestly see myself not drinking and I felt he was being unfair. After all, if I didn't drink when we were together what difference did it make? Truth is, I couldn't go for longer than 2 days before the cravings kicked in. And having been there himself, he knew. He always knew.

Alcohol has been my constant companion for most of my life. If I keep it up it'll be my only companion. Where do I go from here?