See Jane Sober

At journaling, anyway.

I'm sorry for hiding. I'm swamped with work and what not, and am overly frustrated with the not drinking & medication. But not for the obvious reasons. About two weeks back, they upped my Lexapro from 10 to 20 milligrams, because I had a panic attack that one week when I was drinking. Duh.

I usually give it some weeks to kick in, but now we're WHERE? And I feel drugged. Usually I can handle altered (haha! Joke!). I don't feel like I should be operating heavy machinery, I feel like shit in the mornings, am dizzy, weak, fatigued, nauseated. At work! At home! All the time! And I know you so want me to go home with you right now, right? Am I right?SEXY!

I went back to the good doctor yesterday, tell him my symptoms. He says we should lower the Lexapro, to get back to the GOOD PLACE I WAS (see: fleeting). Also, the other night? When I was awake later than I usually was? I noticed that I was starting get more alert. Now? I am SO ALERT and I should be sleeping already because I have to get up early dammit, and this is cutting into my day. Not to mention that I can't stay awake during the day because I am so freaking tired. Where is the fucking 'WAH'mbulance?

What I was trying to say is this: My reward for being and staying sober is that I get to wake up happy, alert, and refreshed, not grumpy, stumbling, and nauseated. That's like drinking anyway (which I still will not be indulging in, not to worry, J.)! Do you see what I'm saying?

Result: Lowered medication, and decided to try it at night so I will be drowsy at night and alert in the morning when I need to be. And 20's! Get out of my body all ready! I should be a scientist, yes?

Which made me think about alcoholism. As I said before, the doctor said that because alcohol affected my personal life, it made me an alcoholic. With the medication affecting my personal life and work performance, how is that a better substitute? I'm not arguing to drink, let me be clear. I just want to get my medication sorted out. So that's why I've been so quiet, in a nutshell.

And you know, life is still barreling forward. I need about 3 more days in between here and tomorrow.

Antabuse update: Still have metal taste in mouth. Gum purchases are now through the roof.

Jane Says: Islands in the stream, that is what we are. No one in between, how can we be wrong?

This last weekend was relaxing, for the most part. Well, I don't know if relaxing is an accurate word. I'm still having some trouble adjusting to the upped dosage of the Lexapro, and it's frustrating. I feel tired and rather, well, tired. Yesterday I wanted to take advantage of the couple of hours we had of good weather (we are fully in rainy season) and I was so drained that I could barely peddle more than five minutes or walk down the beach with Dick. Finally, when he asked to go on an overnight surfing trip, I agreed, hoping that he would have more fun with some people with a little more energy.

I go over to the hospital every am to take the Antabuse, and it's been an interesting experience. Some days there are girls I know, and some days the nurse makes me roll my tongue around and show her that I took the medication - I know I mentioned her before, but she also utters some words of enouragement, like, "Good luck, sweetie," or something like that. It comforts me before I go out and FACE ANOTHER DAY.

We went over to a party this weekend, and the hosts were very supportive. They know about my quitting. They hooked me up with my own cocktail (perrier and powerade option with a twist of lime) in a pretty glass with a blue fish swizzle stick, and I was happy. I was mildly uncomfortable when people started dancing. I feel so awkward out there, like everyone's looking at me. Although I have relaxed about many things, shaking my moneymaker is not one of them. They were persistent, though and would not let me sit down, so finally I just had to dance. Screw the awkwardness. Dick and I got up on the table and shook what our mommas gave us until we were tired and went home.

During the evening, one gentleman and I got in a conversation. He noted that I was drinking a n/a drink, and I said, "It keeps me out of trouble." He said that that could be a good thing. Then he said that it looked like Dick and I compete. When I asked for verification, he said that last weekend at the club, when Dick took his shirt off and was dancing on the chair, that I had a look on my face significant of "unh hunh, he's not doing that," and then I went and "got some of my own attention". Which I'm sure means that I humped some guy's leg or something or was dancing provocatively. I don't even remember that point in the evening. He then went on to talk about relationships, and how he felt disillusioned by them (for himself), but I was strangely stung. I have always thought of myself as tolerant and always mildy amused when Dick receives attention from other females. He's a good looking guy, I don't begrude him that. To hear that I compete with him for correspondent attention is...a cut. I'm sure my friend didn't mean to hurt my feelings, just hearing what an ass I've made out of myself is uncomfortable. You live, you learn, right?

I still feel drugged. Tired and forgetful. I can't tell if I feel this way because of my cankle - which I will be posting more in detail over at RT), or if it is because of the medication. I have an appointment coming up, though.

Jane Says: Doctor, doctor. Can't you tell I'm burnin' burnin' ?

Every time that I am too ashamed to post here, you all can assume that I have been drinking.

Up until now, that is. That I was too embarrassed to admit to anyone out there (no matter how anonymous) just what exactly I had done at any given time when I was drunk.

After last weekend, though, and the Antabuse, I have a different perspective. I'm not quite sure what it is yet, but hopefully I will not knowingly cause myself purposeful harm.

When I was talking to the doctor, I said that I did well when I was accountable to the counselor - I could tell her, "No, I didn't drink." But when she left? I wanted to take a break. Couldn't hurt, right? Nobody would even notice. Stupid, silly, desperate Jane.

So now the doctor has determined that I will be accountable to him. Every day. It's an exercise in humility, I'll tell you. To have to see people that you know, the nurses, and even people that you don't. The lady today? Made me show her my mouth. Wiggle my tongue around and say "ahhhhhh," LIKE I'M SOME KIND OF ALCHOLIC. Like I'm some kind of alcoholic. Like I'm some kind of alcoholic.

But me, I just laughed.

I like the taste of humble pie.

I still feel drugged, from the upping of my meds - so I would imagine that to be around me is a lot like being around a stoned person. Except I don't giggle or laugh a lot. Well, as much, anyway. I feel like a dulled knife some days, but will tell the doctor at our next appointment.

Jane Says, "You talk too much, you never shut up."

After last weekend, I decided it was enough. I've been in these situation before, where I've done something or said something or hurt Dick when I was drunk- many, many times. Even if you read my other blog you can look back in the archives and see, "this time I mean it..." so many times it's ridiculous.

The harder I tried to stop drinking, the more likely it became that I would binge. And binge I did. After drinking all night, I had a panic attack and ended up taking three valium to calm down and finally passed out in between my friend and her husband. Who were gracious enough to let me sleep there until 6:00 the next day. Enough is enough.

I went to the good doctor last Tuesday and we decided that I would try Antabuse, which will basically make me violently ill if I drink. Let me back that truck up, because violently is an understatement. It not only makes you vomit "copiously", it also give you a headache, makes your neck and chest throb, causes respiratory distress and all kinds of other lovely things that would probably scare the piss out of me.

When I was talking to him, I said that I was trying to be honest with myself about how much help I need. I was starting to resent Dick for drinking and what I viewed as "having fun", and that was not a positive spin on my views. I also voiced that I didn't think I was an alcoholic per se, but was quickly shot down. Which makes me feel kind of angry. But maybe I'm just in denial, which he also pointed out.

The strange thing is that I have to go to the hospital every day to take the medication. And see people. That I know. That give me the medicine. It's a strange feeling. Yes they are bound by confidentiality, but I still feel...awkward. Which I hope will pass with time. I know Rose has told me that it's better to have people label you the one who is helping herself vs. the town drunk but it is still an adjustment.

They also upped my meds. My birthday is in 10 days. It'll probably be the first one I celebrate non-alcholically in...I don't even know.

Jane Says: Quisiera ser un pez, para tocar mi nariz en tu pecera.