Calling My Bluff
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.
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.
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on Friday, October 06, 2006 at 7:58 PM.
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