I started drinking and smoking pot heavily after my mom was in an accident when I was 22. At 22, ridiculous drinking is adorable. More than drinking, though, I smoked pot. Anyone who says marijuana is not addictive is FULL OF SHIT. I was high and probably a little drunk when my mother died in hospice. My mother died alone because I couldn’t get my shit together.
A year after she passed, we moved from Atlanta to Wyoming, where we stayed with my grandma. We traded copious amounts of pot for ridiculous amounts of beer. Slowly we made our way to tequila. Then, of course, there was the martini winter. In 2003-2005, I drank like a fucking 18 year old frat boy. The problem, of course, was that I was rapidly approaching 30.
I had my babies in 2006 and 2008. I didn’t drink, for the most part, throughout my pregnancies (never more than a glass of wine or a beer a few times a week). In 2009, I started my Master’s and I quit breastfeeding. My drinking became epic. My sweet, wonderful husband was my constant drinking buddy. We were a united front, hiding the true depths of our addiction from those closest to us. We drank when we had bad days, good days, holidays, when our kids were driving us nuts, when family visited- pretty much, we drank heavily on a daily basis.
Last winter, we had to put my grandmother in a nursing home. My drinking over the last 6 months sounds like a damn movie about alcoholics. I never drank at work, but pretty much any other time of day was fair game. Still, I didn’t want to quit. Even when my hubby said, “Enough.” I wasn’t convinced. Sure, we needed to pulled back but quit? Come on! I was terrified. Never drinking again meant painfully sober holidays, never having anything to take the edge of a bad day, dealing with my in-laws (who don’t drink heavily but they do drink every night) without an alcohol buffer… Add to that the stigma of alcoholism… How would I have fun? How would I be social? What would people think?
I really liked drinking, or so I told myself. It was fun. I was fun when I drank. It is all bullshit. I have probably had five hangover free mornings in the past 6 months. It wasn’t fun anymore. Bills were piling up (because alcoholic drinking is fucking expensive), the pounds were piling on, I was starting to suck at my job but the icing on the cake? My son noticed. He is six. What terrifies me more than not having “fun” anymore? Having my son grow-up either without a mom or with a raging alcoholic mom. We were pretty good at hiding and being “functional” but it was all starting to fall apart.