It was Sunday, December 17th; I planned this relapse, which was one of many I experienced in 2023.
This Sunday, I felt sorry for myself and had plans to attend an event downtown. I told myself I could have 4 drinks and would drive home after the 3-hour event and maybe grab a drink to drink at the house.
I hadn’t even left yet, and that plan went out the window.
1 hour before the event start time, I already downed my 4 drink allotment for the night. The next thing I knew, I was at the liquor store buying another 2 drinks for the shower. The plan to drive is now out the window because I am drinking, my mind goes automatically into damage control.
I always try to minimize the bad things that can happen to me, despite the obvious bad things I am doing to myself.
Drink those two beers & get dressed. I look nice & I have false confidence leading the way. Grab my fancy camera and return to the liquor store to grab another drink and summon an Uber.
I like Ubers & I now only opt for Uber Green because it tends to put me in a Tesla & I feel fancy.
The uber comes quicker than expected.
The Uber arrives and I’m immediately disappointed, not a Tesla, oh well. At least they were quick. I’m running late as usual when I drink.
I get in the backseat, introduce myself, and tell the driver I am going to listen to my headphones and thank them for the ride. I’ve realized my drunk self is less noticeable the less I talk and I go back to damage control thinking.
Music blasting in my headphones, I look in the rearview mirror and crack my beer in the Uber. Driver doesn’t notice or doesn’t care and keeps driving, eyes focused on the road. My eyes are diverted to the mess I am making in this person’s car, with the foam running down my hands, into my clothes, and soaking in the backseat.
Minutes later, I pulled my headphones out to talk to the driver. I drink my beer and get his life story. It’s typical for an Uber driver. He is an immigrant who moved to America to better his life, and I’m truly inspired.
The venue comes faster than expected, I toss my beer into the gutter and go to the door. I can be such a shit person when I drink, this exemplifies that.
Of course, I go to an Event with $2 Beers; what could go wrong?
I find one of the last remaining seats in my section, sit down, take off my jacket as a place holding and proceed to the bar. I get a handful of drinks and go back to my seat.
On the way back, I kindly explain to someone that I think they are in my seat, and I’m met with a confused look. They politely tell me they’ve been in this seat for more than an hour and that I’m mistaken. Then, to my horror, I am in the wrong row.
I shamefully go back to my seat, sloshing drinks on people as I walk. I’m a real treat, let me tell you.
The event starts & I take 1200 terrible photos. I have a fancy camera, and my settings are off, but the click from the shutter still works, so I go full throttle. Click, click, click.
It won’t be until the next day that I look through these in pure horror at the absolute, blurry, out of focus, dark, unusable images I’ve shot, but for now, I am happy, or so I think. Click, click.
More clicks, more drinks, as I return to the bar at least once which puts my current drink count at 11-ish drinks. I’m now bulletproof, guns, words, knifes, nothing can hurt me.
I have no idea how I am getting home.
I mean, uber is always a $30-40 option, but then they see me, and my name is called loudly from across the room. It’s my friends I had not seen in 5 years.
We chatted and decided to hit the afterparty because, of course, we did. We end up at this bar named after D.B Cooper, and it’s now early Sunday Evening & it’s just us & some other alcoholics because nobody else is interested in drinking in a dodgy dive on a school night.
We catch up, I dance, I sing Macy Gray & we order cheese sticks and burgers.
When I drink, my voice goes hoarse, and I often will sing Macy Gray: ” I try to walk away, and I choke, try to say good-bye, and I stumble.” you know the song.
Several drinks later, the bar is closing, we leave, and I am back home early-ish and in bed by 11. In total, I drank approximately 12-14 drinks, which is more than enough for my 120 lb frame. I take my dog outside and pass out in my jeans on top of the covers.
The aftermath: what did I do?
Of course, my first course of business is checking my phone, and a few dumb social posts aside, nothing major. I move on to phase two, which is my credit card statements, and I spent a shit ton of money, again, so that is par for the course.
Then, I move my party to the bathroom where I am stuck for hours and I’ll spare you the details, but it’s gory and a literal shit show in there. This goes on all day.
I barely eat, take my dog outside, and focus on how I am going to tell my recovery friends I messed up, again.
I feel like the recovery world will give up on me.
This feeling is mostly because I feel like giving up on myself. I’ve tried so many times to get sober, when will it stick, when will it work?
Earlier in the year, I had 6 months; I’ve had 3 months and 4 months, but I can’t get it to stick. I honestly consider just giving up on trying, but I get back up, dust myself off and decided to take 3 days off socials and off my phone before I tell friends, again.
This is where the journey starts. Right here.
Written 01/18/2024