See Jane Sober

It's been a long time since I've written on this thing, and I had hoped it would be longer, or at least not drinking (disaster) related, but it is, so...

I got drunk again last Saturday Night. There was no trigger, I just wanted a beer and then I wanted some champagne and then some wine, and then after that, I don't know. Long story short, I woke up in another apartment with another guy. I went home and told Dick and he told me that he kind of expected it.

When I got to work this morning my coworker heard through the grapevine - which has a VERY BIG MOUTH that I was showing off my body, that my clothes were strewn everywhere. Which makes little or no sense to me because I woke up with all my clothes on. I did take them off later and put them in the dryer, but other than that, I had them on.

Dick and I are at odds whether I had sex or not - I say I didn't, he thinks I did because of some physical evidence that he didn't want to tell me about on the phone. I don't think that I did. It doesn't matter because it is over now and there's nothing I could do about it.

I went to the counselor and told her what happened. She asked me what I was going to do about my drinking. That I had problems with low self esteem, low self-confidence and low self worth, but that I couldn't get to those problems if I didn't get ahold of the drinking FIRST. She mentioned another medication, and that when I go in to see her tomorrow, that she will be in charge of my program. I am not sure what that means, but she said that I have to tell her what she needs to hear so that we can proceed.

Dick and I will be going in together so that he can stop enabling me. She said that it is insane that I would go and do something like that and expect my life to get back to normal. I completely agree with her.

She said that it might turn out that we are not meant to be married to each other, which would really break my heart, truthfully. Someone might read this and ask, "Well then why the hell do you keep doing that to him?" and I don't know. But I do know that I don't want to be without him.

She was very clear that she was going to ask BOTH of us to quit drinking and BOTH of us to quit going to the club. She said that if the commitment wasn't there, then...well, I don't know. I don't think that Dick should have to quit drinking for now, but if that is what it takes.

She also said that it might turn out that I'm not meant to be here, and I don't think that I would like that, either. I do like it here, most of the time. I don't know why I keep doing stuff to sabotage myself, my relationship.

She asked me if I thought about hurting myself when I felt this low and I told her that even if I did, I wouldn't do it because I didn't want to embarrass my husband, my parents - she said, "Don't you think you're embarrassing them now?" which was a very good point.

I don't feel like I deserve anything. I haven't eaten yet. I won't wear my favorite jewelry. I don't care if I look like shit because I feel like I deserve it. I don't even want to go out in public. Work, home, that's it. I apologized to Dick because I know that I did this to myself and he has to suffer through it with me. In sickness and in health?

The guys were laughing when they talked about me and said that I must be messed up in the head to do something like that to Dick and that we must be living miserably together. It makes me angry because they've had girlfirends, ex-wives, whatever, but hey, watch her, she's a car wreck. Every time I have seen another person drunk, I have taken care of them.

The counselor also mentioned that I could really get myself in trouble - get raped, killed, etc. That one day it will be the wrong man. I don't want that.

I was so afraid that somebody would find out I was in AA, if I were to join, so then I go and do something where I have no choice. She said that I have the self-discipline to quit. I don't know where the fuck it is.

I told her that I wanted to go home, but she said I was going to have to suck it up - that I could not go running home to my mom or anyone who would help me fix it - that I was going to have to do it myself.

I don't really know what to say at this point, because I feel like I've said all this before - what makes it different this time? I didn't even want to tell her because I didn't want to disappoint her. Or Jen, Or Rose, or anyone. Part of me just wants to be this horrible little dark person by myself.

I'm just sad. And tired.

Labels: alcohol, relapse

I had a dream about David last night; it seems like my subconscious is still wrapped up in him and his suicide. In it we were kind of romantically involved - we kissed, but he was helping me try to reconcile with his brother, who wouldn't give me the time of day. In fact, in a drunken stupor, he urinated on me from a 30th floor balcony. When I woke up, it took me nearly 4 hours to remember that David was dead. Rather than being angry, like I have been for over a year now, I just felt a residual sadness. Much like a cocoon feels when the butterfly leaves, I expect. It's been years since I was close to anyone from the group, but their stains are on my skin.

In speaking with the good doctor, Dick came up. How I'm not communicating with him properly. I don't know why I am (as of yet) unable to express myself openly to him. The other day when I wanted to talk to him about sex, I had to wait until he was out of the shower and I could speak through the curtain to whisper some vague "can I get a raincheck?" bullshit. My inability frustrates me.

Oftentimes I wish that I would come with one of those scrolling marquees on my forehead so that he knew what I wanted/needed from him at all times. For example: Please don't make fun of me right now, it will just push me over the edge. Instead, come in and give me a hug and tell me that you're here if I need help. What really happens? He calls me Mrs. Grinch in front of the kids, further pissing me off, which eventually leads to an altercation. Whereas before I refused to engage him in that manner, now I just, "bite his head off", in his words. Sometimes I feel like his own personal wind up toy. Wind me up and watch me go.

In an attempt to get his attention yesterday, for a kiss, some reconciliation, something. I climbed on top of him and popped my face over his book. He told me I was bothering him, so I called him an ass and skulked over to the corner. I couldn't help but think that had it been the beginning of our relationship, he would've dropped the book and enveloped me passionately. I know that things have changed, and that there are times when I am not receptive to his overtures, but two wrongs don't make a right. My biggest fear is that one of us will eventually just give up.

He asked if there was a different set of rules for me, but I argued otherwise (imagine that). I feel that he can "bother" me whenever he wants and often does. When he feels playful, there's no limits. Most of the time it is funny, but sometimes I really need my space after being hung on and whined to and "loved" all day long.

I just feel as if the line of communication has been cut. When I didn't want to talk on the phone the other day, he asked if I had taken my pill. I felt crushed. Small and crazy. And then defensive in a VERY.BIG.WAY. Of course, I joked about it. Because if I can make a funny, then it doesn't matter.

I asked him why he loved me later on after the book/ass incident and he told me that he didn't know. Further anger and disappointment. I know he hates when I ask him that, but I just wanted a small answer.

When I think about all this stuff, I feel very, very sad. I can't help but think if this is happening because of me, because of things I have done. If over the years I pushed him too far. In day to day, I never acknowledge it, I just keep going and going and going.

If I don't stop and look, it's not there.

Jane Says, "Nothing", could cause a great big fight...

No, no, I haven't forgotten. I've just been stepping forward and having less to write about reflectively, I suppose. Well, less to journal. But I suppose that journaling is ups and downs. Not just downs.

The other day in counseling, I was asked if I craved alcohol and I said, "No." I fully thought that I was telling the truth. I don't crave hard liquor or beer, I don't crave pink or white wine. That's all I was focused on at the moment.

I did tell her that I had been having this bizarre dreams where I get so fucked up that I don't remember what I did, and what I inevitably did was think that I screwed a bunch of guys. One right after the other, bar after bar, after bar. I never did this in real life, but I suppose it is my biggest fear, considering that Dick told me that was his limit, sex with another man. I'm so afraid of myself and what I might do that I'm afraid I might just do that, like I might just fall on another man's penis "accidentally". Ridiculous, no?

She told me that it was actually a step forward, that alcoholics have these dreams after quitting drinking - it's their conscious and subconscious battling over lack of alcohol. Rather, the conscious is cognizant that there is no alcohol, and the subconscious is coming to terms with it. I found this a relief, considering that I often wake up from these dreams bothered and anxious.

She also mentioned that when I was ready to go to an AA meeting that I could go. I just had to tell her point blank that I was not ready. I don't know that I'll ever be ready. I'm NOT convinced that I'm an alcoholic. I think that I was certainly headed in that direction, but that I had the wherewithal to pull myself out. I want to be given credit for that. I guess I still view those meetings as punishment because I don't feel like I need that support. I've got myself. And Jen. And Dick. And those horrid, horrid, dreams.

What I did find out this weekend, however, was that I will probably never be able to turn my back on red wine. I took a sip of it and it was so M'mmmm yummy. Just leaving me further convinced that I need to invent the perfect non-alcoholic red. So far all the ones I've tasted just have no BODY. I will have to learn to cook with it until I can distance myself safely enough from it. I did then taste Dick's, which I knew was vinegary and awful (it was old) so that I wouldn't be craving that reddy goodness.

And I fed sharks. Because I am awesome.

Dick hurt my feelings the other day when he asked me if I had taken my pill yet. I mentioned that I didn't want to talk on the phone, and that was his immediate response. Yes, it helps to take away the anxiety, which therefore makes me more social, but it is not a HAPPY! PILL! under any circumstances. And I thought he knew me better than that.

I finally had to tell him that I was upset that the last three times we had had sex that there wasn't any time for me. I waited until he got out of the shower, however, because I am still shy about talking and approaching this kind of thing. I don't think that he got that I was mad, but he knows that he owes me, at least. Score 1 for Jane the Prude.

I fed them right out of my hand. Because I am awesome.

Jane Says: My hips don't lie.

Labels: medication, red wine, sobriety