love less

So the latest question my brain has been tormenting me with:  Do I love my children less than other mothers love their children?

There were times when I chose to drink over what was best for them.  Many times.  When we hear stories about moms who did neglectful or just plain stupid things that caused their kids harm, we automatically think "I could never".  Well, the thing is, I did.  Now my issue is, can we measure the amount of love for our kids in a cup?  Can it be half full?  How do you know if you love your kids as much as the next mom out there - you can't be in her head?  The only way we have to measure the love for the people in our lives is the things we do for them, the way we treat them and the respect we show them.  So what happens when your love for them is in question?

How about when I let my kids watch extra TV because I need a break?  I know TV is not good for them, I know what the limit should be.  I let them eat McDonald's once in a while.  Everyone has clicked the link to see what is actually in (or not in) the mystery meat they use.  Is this a measure of my motherly love? 

Logic who?

Just being honest here - that is what one of my mentors in AA always says before she says something difficult.  I like it.  

We are cleaning out our storage area in the basement.  Waking up too early (as usual) this morning, I started back in and found wine stashed.  We found a couple bottles last night too, but they were empty, so this was...hard.  I left it alone, looking up once in a while to stare.  My mouth actually watered, my stomach grumbled...I could taste the wine, feel it on my tongue, feel the warmth spread in my tummy.  I finally called my mom (didn't really expect her to answer) just to hear her voice tell me to leave a message and bucked up enough to pour it down the bathroom sink.  The smell was heavenly, like a long forgotten friends perfume - I wanted to hold a towel over my head and just breath it.

"Alcoholism is the only disease that tells you you're all right."  One of the MANY slogans you hear in AA, one that rings very true.

With summer here and a lot of people in my neighborhood drinking outside, I have been thinking that since I have never been able to quit for any length of time and now I have done it (my first mistake, thinking I did it all by myself), maybe I can also make the decision to moderate my drunkenness.  Getting drunk only twice a month or something.  I have already decided I don't want to be a casual drinker - one or two glasses of wine at night is a waste of time, money and calories.  Truly, why does anyone just drink a couple?  But if I can just control myself enough to only get smashed a couple of nights a month, that would be OK, right?  No drinking during the day, no drinking on the job - put the kids to bed, let my hubs know it's game on and start slamming wine until I've had my (newly decided limit) two bottles.  I get to turn off the brain, listen to music loudly, dance party in the garage, wake up hungover with him (in my little perfect world, he would love this idea and get drunk with me) and we would complain the next day about how horrible we feel, eat a really fattening dinner and I wouldn't touch the stuff again until the next planned night.  Sounds so perfect - but then, what if?  What if AA is right and I will start right where I left off?  What if I have to drink one of the mornings of the hangovers and never stop.  What if I can't control it again and I pass out during the day and one of my kids wanders into the street.  What if someone stops by unannounced while I am blitzed and calls CPS.  What if I leave them alone to run to Kroger for more wine and see someone I know there?  What if I have a seizure from suddenly introducing alcohol again to my system in huge amounts and die, leaving my kids to fend for themselves until he gets home from work?  What if what if what if.....is it really worth it?  Logically, I am healthy, I'm running in the mornings, I'm eating right, my system is recovering - and, most importantly, I am starting to enjoy living without drinking, which is amazing!  But, a lot of times, running the risk seems worth finding out.  I realize, to some people, this doesn't make sense.  (Reading this back to myself, I am one of those people.)  For years now I have been reading books and memoirs about addiction (another clue that I knew the problem was there) and more than a few have pointed out that addiction is stronger than motherly instinct, stronger than the instinct of self-preservation.  I have to put faith in the fact that this is one of those times.  I need to crank it up a notch, call my sponsor, call whoever, go to meetings, work the steps and (God willing) this too shall pass.  Just don't take that first drink. 

Page 24 from the Big Book:

"The tragic truth is that if the man be a real alcoholic...he has lost control. At a certain point in the drinking of every alcoholic, he passes into a state where the most powerful desire to stop drinking is of absolutely no avail. This tragic situation has already arrived in practically every case long before it is suspected."

"The fact is that most alcoholics, for reasons yet obscure, have lost the power of choice in drink. Our so-called will power becomes practically nonexistent. We are unable, at certain times, to bring into our consciousness with sufficient force the memory of the suffering and humiliation of even a week or a month ago. We are without defense against the first drink."

I have come to believe that this passage is not speaking of only the drinker that drinks everyday or all day, but the drinker that suspects there may be a problem, but is still having fun most of the time.  The drinker that says "I will not drink during the week" - "I will only have a couple except for special occasions" - "I will only drink beer." - "I will only drink liquor on days that start with T, beer on days that start with W and both on days beginning with S."  (We can get pretty tricky, lemme tell ya...)  The reason I believe this is because I used to be that drinker.  I remember telling myself I was going to cut back, I was going to only drink this much or that alcohol.  I was successful at every one of those promises to myself for a while.  For many many years I won at this game, but the sentence that tells me the truth, "for reasons yet obscure, have lost the power of choice in drink", is staring me in the face.  I ALWAYS made the choice - thinking that that's what it was, a choice - to keep drinking.  Didn't matter what, how much, to what limit, when, where - somewhere in all of these schemes throughout the years, drinking was always part of the plan.  I think the powerful desire to stop comes way too late.  LONG before alcoholism is suspected.  The powerful desire to stop only comes when your life or the way you live it is threatened, and only then do you realize that stopping is not an option, that you have no idea when you stepped over that line in the sand.  I thank God every morning that I found my way out, that I was able to ask for His help before it was too late.  A very small percentage get to do that, and an even smaller percentage never go back.  I want to be a survivor and be there to tell my story to the next alcoholic that needs help, and I choose today to not take that first drink. 

Thank GOD.  Crap, that was close.  Thanks again, dear readers, for being there when everyone else in my life was sleeping :)

Let me explain...

I realize that I have not mentioned in any of my previous posts that I relapsed.  I was discharged from the hospital, stayed sober for around a month and then I gave in.  The last post I made before I caved was January 30.  This isn't to say that I quit trying - I was, as posted earlier today, a miserable wretch.  The two weeks of drinking before I took that first step were, by far, the worst of my life.  Not the most, but the worst.  Just thought I would clear that up...you know, just in case any of my thousands of fans out there were wondering :)

Movie Night

Four months.  I cannot believe it has been (almost) four months since a drop of alcohol has entered this body.  (Well, technically, I have had the wine at church...and it was delicious.)  I haven't written on this blog in a while...can't really say why - my life being so full of excitement and intrigue...but it feels really good when I do write, so I am going to try to start again.  It will be nice to have a look back years from now.  Whether or not that will be a hazy, half-remembered peek is yet to be determined, but so far so good.  As my friends in the 6:30 AA group tell me, I am right where I am supposed to be.  I wish I could figure out where that was, exactly, but good to know I'm there.  I actually go days without wanting to drink, maybe a whole day without thinking about it.  And when I do think about alcohol, it is mostly a fleeting thought - not something I dwell on like I did before.  Some days are easier, but I think that goes with anything.  I feel like I hit another milestone though, I have been going to the movies at night and not thinking of drinking.  AMAZING.  I go to the movies, sit through the whole movie (laugh, cry, eat a shit-ton of popcorn) and don't think about the fact that I am not drinking at all.  Crazy good stuff. 

Movie night was a huge night for me to drink.  Food and wine before the movies, and then I would just bring mini-bottles in my purse, slamming them in the bathroom stall (I was all class baby).  I don't remember a lot of most movies we went to, and I actually passed out in a few.  I think the last one I woke up to the credits was Thor, but everything around that time is a bit...hazy.  My very last drink was at the movies.  I think we went to see The Grey (again, haze) and I was in the doghouse.  I was supposed to not be drinking, ever.  I was going to AA, I really wanted to not drink, but I just couldn't do it.  I tried REALLY hard.  I tore myself up - my mother and sister had threatened (as kindly as one could, God bless 'em) my children.  I don't know this for sure, but I think my better half was beginning to resign himself to hopelessness.  I was throwing up bright yellow vomit almost every day.  I didn't want to drink more than I had ever wanted anything in my entire life.  I was so drunk the day before we went that I couldn't even hide it from anyone - I had started this particular binge by showing up at Costco to meet my sister reeking of alcohol at 11 am.  Basically, a train wreck.  My husband was somehow able stand me (he must have known how miserable I was, that is the only way I can see how he could have) long enough for us to go to the show for Valentine's Day - and we were at the mall.  He went into Bass Pro to look around before the movie, and I went to straight to the bar.  Slammed three glasses of pinot grigio in about fifteen minutes, then met him at the theater.  Those were my last glasses of wine.  The sad thing is (anyone who is familiar with the term "maintenance drinking" will get this) they didn't even get me buzzed.  They basically stopped the horrible feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach long enough for me to watch the movie.  I really liked that movie up until the end, by the way.  The next day was the day I fell to my knees.  February 14, 2012.  I did the hell out of my step one and have been trucking on ever since.

Well, here I am again

Well, I have decided to resurrect the blog - I feel like a lot has happened and nothing has happened...aaaahh, motherhood.  Summer is finally here, which is a slightly double-edged sword.  My kids can finally play outside, but I can also walk down the street and witness my neighbors enjoying a glass of wine on the porch or some cold beers while grilling...jealous.  I am coming up on the fourth month of no drinky.  FOUR MONTHS...and I am not pregnant.  Actually, I didn't even go four months when I was pregnant.  I followed this website's advice, drinking the absolute MOST that I could without the definition of binge drinking.  Looking bad, it seems so desperate.  I had to have wine that badly that I was measuring out, getting absolutely every drop that I could before it would be considered harmful in my eyes.  I thank God that I at least had the where-with-all

http://www.babycentre.co.uk/pregnancy/nutrition/foodsafety/alcohol/

Bla bla bla

I really miss my wine.  I know I'm better off without it, and I do get little glimpses of how life is easier, better, more "life" without being drunk all of the time - but right now they are just glimpses.  My AA peeps tell me all the time "I'm right where I'm supposed to be."  Which is good to know.  But I really want to be where they are.  Happy, content - they don't seem to miss it at all.  I know that motherhood is a very precious gift, and I love my children more than anything - but life with three little ones THIS little is really really really lonely.  Especially when your husband works sixty plus hours per week and NO ONE can ever hang out.  It seems like the last few months everyone has been sick or busy or both.  I'm striking up conversations with the UPS guy...very sad.  The even sadder thing is he probably gets that a lot and goes home and laughs about it over beers with his friends.  If I could go to the gym, take up a few new hobbies, go shopping - anything - I think I would miss my wine A LOT less.  Sometimes I wish I would have discovered I was an alcoholic when my youngest daughter started going to school.  Much easier.  Wine was my relief for the boredom and loneliness.  A respite from the endless "mom"s and the breaking up of fights, all the cleaning and changing of diapers.  Wine made my day go by a bit faster.

But then I have to look at the other side.  If I could have kept it to a few glasses of wine to make the afternoons a bit lighter, that would have been better.  But I can't.  I would have missed their childhood.  I would have had to cancel playdates or school events because I wasn't able to drive.  I always had a hangover until I drank it away.  There were days that I couldn't stand up straight because I felt so sick until I had that first glass of wine.  I have to remember everything CORRECTLY before I decide to have that first drink again.  I wouldn't have gotten to where I am if I would have been able to keep it to a few glasses of wine

So a couple of days ago I took my kids to the playground.  It's about 1/4 of a mile away from our house - we live at the end of a dead end road and you have to walk all the way up the street and another half block and you're there.  It was around 5:30pm, which normally by this time I would already have a pretty solid buzz, so it felt really good, really "grown-up" and "responsible" to be doing it sober.  We were having a great time!  Which lasted about ten minutes.  My son, who just turned four, realized he forgot to bring his basketball and wanted to go back and get it.  Well, hells to the no we were not walking all the way back to get the damn ball when it was going to be dark in the next half hour.  Cue temper tantrum.

Off subject a little, just to catch you up a bit on the home life...

Being drunk/hungover most of the time, I was never consistent with my punishments.  I had no follow through.  I would threaten and cajole, sometimes cry, but never really put into action the many horrible things I would promise were going to take place if my kids didn't do as they were told.  HUGE mistake.  They take nothing I say seriously.  So now I am on this kick that whatever I say (if you don't stop screaming, you will stay in your room forever) will happen.  I really have to be careful about my threats.  Once they are out I can't take them back.  It is really hard to think on the fly when you are furious - I find myself yelling things like "If you don't stop running on the couch....I don't even KNOW what's gonna happen!!"  Scary, right?  I'm a work in progress.

Back to tantrum...

He is PISSED.  He's yelling at me, switching from standing with his arms crossed over his chest to kicking the grass and stomping his foot.  So I make the stupendous mistake of blurting "That's it!  We are going home!"  I wasn't ready, my daughters weren't ready, I'm just in such a horrible habit of making threats and not following through, it was out before I could think.  Now I have to pack up the baby in her stroller and get my daughter to leave with me.  Which is not going to happen.

Picture this:  A mom jogging her stroller down the street, two kids screaming bloody murder behind her.  They are throwing themselves on the ground, getting up, catching up with said stroller and then throwing themselves onto the ground again.  Over and over until we get home.  At one point, my son was even running in front of me to try to get me to stop.  I had three neighbors open their doors to find out what all the hubbub was.  A very nice woman even offered to let me leave my son with her.  (I don't think she had any idea how close I was to pretending she was serious.)  My daughter was grabbing onto my coat, so I was half-dragging her part of the way.  A drunk night would have been a sure thing not too long ago - what a perfect excuse to get hammered.  But I didn't.  At one point, believe it or not, I was laughing so hard I had tears rolling down my face.  Adjusting to sobriety when real life happens is a weird thing.  God, I just needed help in that moment - thank you.  And if anyone out there has some pointers on solid threats to make that don't ruin everybody's good time, I am open to suggestions!