I was shocked to see a post I didn’t recognize on my home page. After reading a few sentences that were clearly missing words and checking the date it was published, things clicked. I wrote the post drunk and quite possibly blacked-out (well I guess definitely blacked out if I don’t remember writing it).

My initial reaction was to delete or edit the post, but I’ve decided not to. What’s the point? Avoiding embarrassment? I think it’s a little late to protect my pride. I’m actually sort of amazed in a disgusted way that I was able to write a (somewhat) cohesive post while barely conscious.

Anyways, my relapse did not end until 4 days later when I was finally dragged to detox. Thank God for my “dragger”. Left to my own devices, I honestly wouldn’t have been able to get to the facility. Burgeoning withdrawal symptoms had me practically unable to move.

Let me explain.

Nowadays after I drink a certain amount, I no longer get a “normal” hangover (you know, the whole, feeling-like-shit-for-half-a-day experience that can be shaked-off with sleep and Ibuprofen). Instead, once my BAC (blood alcohol content) starts going down, my body immediately goes into withdrawal.

When I got to the detox facility, I assumed my BAC was at 0% due to how awful I felt. Contrary to my expectations, the breathalyzer had me at a staggering 0.24% (for reference, that is three times the legal driving limit of 0.08%). This was after having slept 8 hours. I don’t even want to imagine what my BAC was the previous night.

Side note: Did you know that the highest BAC recorded for an American was a 1.33%?! The 24 year old UCLA student was even able to check herself into a hospital and remained alert… An alcoholic’s tolerance is insane – doctors basically consider anything above a 0.4% certain death. A common thing you’ll hear in AA is “I should be dead” and that is no exaggeration.

Explaining withdrawal to someone who hasn’t gone through it is tough. The best way I’ve heard it described is that your body is telling you (screaming at you really) that you will die without alcohol. Rationally you know this probably isn’t the case (although you can die from alcohol withdrawal ), but the physical and mental discomfort is so extreme that you’ll do anything for it to stop.

The physical symptoms I’ve experienced are weakness, shaking, nausea, sweating, simultaneously feeling overheated and freezing (like a fever), and just a general feeling of wanting to crawl out of your skin like a molting snake. Most people also vomit and have terrible diarrhea but I guess I have a strong stomach.

The mental discomfort is arguably worse. Anxiety levels shoot through the roof (adding to the feeling of certain death). Depending on how much damage you caused by drinking, withdrawal morphs you into a guilt-ridden & highly depressed shell of a human.

I tried for days in a row to stop drinking on my own during this latest major relapse, but I have a liquor store attached to my building. During each attempt, I would reach a point of distress high enough that I’d convince myself a pint of vodka was necessary to get me through the day, and that somehow I’d wake up feeling better the following morning. Yes I KNOW this makes no sense, but like I said, in this state your body thinks it needs alcohol to survive.

It probably goes without saying, but my week (and some change) of drinking was not pretty or fun. Day 1 of my relapse happened while I was working at Fat Petes. A coworker suggested we get tipsy, and although I knew it was a terrible idea I agreed.

Ok fine, that day was kind of fun. It didn’t last though – flash forward one week and I’m back at Fat Petes with withdrawal symptoms kicking in hard. During my walk to FP I seriously considered checking myself into an ER, but I figured I could get through my shift and deal with my sh*t later. I told that same coworker (who I had drank with the previous week) what was going on, and she suggested we drink a little again so that I wouldn’t be feeling like death during my shift. Again, I agreed. This time there was no hesitation.

Another terrible decision on my part. I ended up blacking out, and woke up at 4am fully dressed in my work clothes. Somehow I had fallen asleep with both my legs hanging off the bed, so when I woke up I was unable to move them without excruciating pain, and had to drag myself to a normal position. I had no idea what had happened, but I assumed the worst. Did I quit on the spot and walk out? Did I steal money from the register? Did I throw up on a customer? Were my legs broken?!

Thankfully, my legs are fine and I was able to see my manager a few days later. I thought he was going to cuss me out but he only expressed concern, and even told me I still had a job if I wanted it (thanks, but no thanks). The worst thing I did was steal his food and eat it in one of the bathrooms (highly embarrassing, unhygienic and fatty of me but not terrible). Apparently I insisted on finishing my shift, but my manager had me walked home instead (bless his heart).

This was Saturday, and I didn’t get into detox until Tuesday morning. Sunday-Tuesday I drank even more than the previous days. I switched from buying pints of hard liquor to fifths (750ml). The day before detox I finished an entire bottle of vodka on my own.

So yea, not pretty or fun.

For those of you who are wondering, the detox process basically involves a medical team monitoring your blood pressure (which can skyrocket during withdrawal), and any other withdrawal symptoms you are experiencing (shaking, sweating, etc). Benzodiazepines (think valium or librium) and anti-seizure medications are given to offset the anxiety and overall discomfort. Oh and to make sure you won’t seize and die.

Since then, things have shaped up. I started a new job, and I am so grateful to have a normal 9 to 5 routine again. Although I was worried some issues would come up during my background check, by some miracle everything went smoothly.  I’ve been there two weeks now — already longer than I stayed at my last “real” job (which I lost after barely a week after relapsing at work). I really don’t want to screw this up. If I do, theres a high likelihood I won’t be able to bounce back again.

Every relapse is an opportunity to learn, including “Disaster at Fat Petes“. Clearly I have trouble refusing alcohol from friends. “Friends” that know I am an alcoholic and convince me to drink nevertheless… No one is forcing me to drink (as in forcibly pouring vodka down my throat), but something keeps drawing me to individuals I subconsciously know are bad news. Sounds like a sneaky form of self destruction.

I think this time was an awakening though. I tried reaching out to my coworker to make sure I hadn’t caused HER any problems, and got no answer. I haven’t heard a single word from her since. And I actually felt guilty about this for a while.

Thankfully one of my real friends (aka someone that would never coerce me to drink because they have my best interest at heart) talked some sense into me. Who cares if she got fired over what happened? She brought vodka into work and knowingly fed an alcohol her kryptonite. It blew my friend’s mind that anyone would do this, not once, but twice.

Anyhow, the moral of the story is that I need to stay vigilant at all times and steer clear of anyone that could influence me to drink. Saying “no” to myself is hard enough as it is.

Oh and also, if you drink frequently and start experiencing frequent “hangovers” that feel particularly awful, consider getting medical help. If someone in your life drinks frequently and shows any sign of withdrawal, get them help. This can be something as seemingly insignificant as being unable to pick up a glass of water without shaking profusely (this time last year, that was me. I assumed medications were the culprit but it was alcohol withdrawal. It took over a week in rehab for my shaking to stop completely).

To end on a positive note, my AA network has been continuing to support me through all my ups and downs, and for this I am grateful beyond words. Although admitting relapse is never easy, I’ve learned that the best way to nip a drinking spree in the bud is to talk about it. The best way to combat any bad habit or unhealthy thought process is to talk about it.

It might sound corny, but the more you talk about your demons the easier it is to face them. Plus, talking to someone about your problems doesn’t only benefit you, it helps the listener as well. After all, it is much easier to open up to someone who has already opened up to you. Don’t underestimate the power of active listening.

Ugh. Of course I ended up drinking just a few days after my latest post, despite being convinced I was on a solid sobriety streak.

While re-reading said post, I realized I should have known a relapse was blatantly in the making. A newly-sober alcoholic mind does not fare well with feelings of “restlessness, irritability and discontentedness”. Those three ingredients are actually the primary components in feelings-avoidance.

If I had limited my drinking to one night, the situation might have turned out ok. Instead I pulled the oh-so-classic move of trying to mitigate my withdrawal/hangover symptoms by drinking “just enough alcohol to get me through the next day without feeling terrible”. HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN HOW IRRATIONAL YOUR ALCOHOLIC MIND IS, VICTORIA?

In all seriousness, dealing with the repercussions of feeling THIS physically and mentally awful has made me realize that I had indeed forgotten a lot. Even (only) about two months of sobriety, distanced me enough from my last shitshow experiences that I blocked out how terrible it feels to come off an alcohol binge-fest.

Today, those memories have been racing back full-force. My anxiety is through the roof. My heart is racing, my chest feels tight, and more than anything I wish I could just chug some vodka to ease the god-awful physical sensations I’m experiencing. But then again, I now remember that any hope of physical soothing is yet another delusional ideation.

Currently, my rational mind is trying to dust off sober Victoria and prevent her from falling back into old, self-destructive patterns. On the flip side, my alcoholic mind is doing everything it can to convince Victoria that she’s an awful beast that deserves utmost failure. (Makes sense – the worse an alcoholic feels, the more likely they are to drink). Also sorry for talking in the third person – (“we are not amused”).

Thankfully, I’m not alone in handling this latest setback. As always, I have my amazing families, both genetic and acquired. I’ve also developed some strong relationships within AA and my outpatient rehab program that have continued to be super helpful – so long as I remember to take advantage of them.

I actually spoke with a  particularly amazing friend from AA that I wanted to mention, because our conversation helped me more than I can explain. Like me, she went through several relapses before getting on track, but (unlike me) she now she has over a year sober. She reminded me today that setbacks don’t cancel out overall progress, and that relapses are sometimes crucial to an overall learning process. Meeting inspirational people like her, who have achieved so much despite their original hardships, provides fuel to my sobriety fire.

Anyways, hopefully I’ll one day be an inspiration to another newly-sober individual. If anything spurs my inspiration to work hard at my sobriety, it’s that hope!

By some miracle, I’ve managed to stay sober since my last post (~ 50 days ago). The inspiration to write hasn’t really hit me since. I guess it’s a lot easier to write about out-of-control relapses than, dare I say, “normal” day-to-day activities?

My schedule consists of job searching, AA meetings, therapy, and Fat Petes. As happy as I am to no longer be actively ruining my life, I have been in a MOOD lately. The smallest things have been irritating the hell out of me. This morning, for example, someone was walking really slowly in front of me and blocking the whole sidewalk, and I spent a good five minutes fuming and internally screaming. Eventually I got a grip of myself and realized how misplaced my rage was. It’s not like I was in a hurry, I was headed to the dentists..

Speaking of which, apparently I’ve started grinding my teeth at night. I now have three chipped teeth as a result…gross.  It was suggested that stress might be a factor. Me stressed? Never! *puffs on JUUL desperately*

As I’m writing this, I’m realizing that I’m displaying classic symptoms of being “restless, irritable and discontent”. According to AA, an alcoholic who no longer drinks will feel this way “unless they can again experience the sense of ease and comfort which comes at once by taking a few drinks.” If I understand correctly, this “ease and comfort” is supposed to come through working the steps.

UM HELLO? I AM WORKING THE STEPS! WHERE IS MY INTERNAL PEACE AND SERENITY? KUMBAYA ANYONE?

Yes, I’m being ridiculous and impatient. Sometimes I forget that although my life is currently pretty slow-paced, I’m working on implementing a lot of internal changes.

Recently, I worked the infamous steps 4 and 5 with my sponsor. Basically, this entails writing out all your resentments towards others, then figuring out what part you played.   The end result is that you discover what your “character defects” are. I was certain that some of my resentments were 100% not my fault, but as it turns out I was wrong.

For example:

I am resentful towards my old boss because she made me feel like a sub-par worker and a dumb millennial. My part was that I was an inconsistent employee who showed up drunk to work half the time, and who even breached security by plugging my phone into a classified computer (because I needed to charge it…. the most millennial first world problem ever.) Despite blatantly half-assing my job, I expected to be respected. By analyzing my actions in this situation, I can see that arrogance and victimization are character defects I need to work on.

Needless to say, It doesn’t feel super great to shine a light on all of your “character defects”. The goal of the exercise isn’t to beat yourself up though. These defects served a purpose in active addiction: they were survival skills. They allowed me to maintain a warped sense of sanity. Arrogance masked feelings of complete inadequacy. Dishonesty was an attempt to prevent loved ones from turning their backs on me. Anger made me feel less vulnerable after the countless dangerous situations I found myself in (*cough* jail). 

I guess the key take-way in uncovering these character defects is realizing that they’ve now outlived their usefulness. 

“We cannot build a life of peace and joy using the tools of war.” – Jody Doff

Steps 6 and 7 involve facing our newly-discovered imperfections and asking a higher power to help us change for the better. Because self-improvement is a process, taking these steps is more about developing a willingness to change than fixing everything overnight. And, like all the steps, they are meant to be worked continuously.

I guess this is where I’m at. The good news is that I’m becoming more self-aware, and able to identify when my character defects are acting up. The bad news is that my character defects are so deeply engrained that it’s extremely uncomfortable to work on them at times.

People-pleasing has been the hardest so far. I am absolutely terrible at setting boundaries with others, and frequently find myself believing that I am responsible for other people’s thoughts and emotions (newsflash: I’m not). One of my latest “challenges”  was breaking up with my old therapist. The therapist in question was a lovely woman, but I noticed that I wasn’t making much progress in our sessions. Oh, and she had a tendency to doze off while I was talking…

Sounds like an easy situation to handle, right? Not for me! I tried to tell her at the end of several sessions that I wanted to move on, but froze out of fear each time. Eventually, I ended up letting her know over text (and of course, it was no big deal.)

Logically, I knew that it was ridiculous to continue paying for a service that wasn’t meeting my expectations. Not to mention that the purpose of therapy is to communicate feelings. Despite all of this, some part of me felt worried that I would hurt the therapist; I didn’t want her thinking she was doing a bad job or that I didn’t like her as a person.

It’s almost laughable when I think about it. The woman is literally trained in feelings management and has dealt with hundreds of clients, yet I felt responsible for protecting her. Did I think I was so important that MY actions could potentially affect her self-esteem? Apparently so.

Ironically, people-pleasing is an extremely self-centered behavior, which I still have a lot of trouble accepting. I’ve always prided myself on being helpful and relatively unselfish. Somewhere along the way though, this turned into a subconscious belief that I have way more power over others than I actually do.

So yea, the people-pleasing thing is a work in progress. The challenge remains accepting that I have no control over other people’s thoughts, feelings and opinions. Hopefully once I become more comfortable with this idea, I’ll start to feel more serene.

I guess that’s my update for the day/week/month. Overall, I really can’t complain. I’m grateful for my amazing support system, without which I would be homeless (and probably drunk). I’m grateful that today I can focus on my recovery and take the time to better myself. And I’m SUPER grateful to be sober.

Relapsed on day 29 of my sobriety. Congratulations to anyone who bet I wouldn’t last a month!

I wasn’t expecting to write this post so soon. I think part of me thought I could be the poster child of recovery: an instant success story.

I had a vision. Me, laying in a field of daisies, having a spiritual experience. My eyes are closed, and I have a peaceful smile on my face. Somewhere in the distance, a harp strums. A (recyclable) can of coconut water is in my hand.

Unfortunately, I underestimated the power of addiction.

While I was in rehab, the angel on my shoulder thrived. It was nourished by my undivided attention, and the love of those around me. With my “best self” getting stronger, it was easy to forget what had brought me to rehab in the first place– my dark passenger.

Contrary to what I thought, although temporarily restrained, it did not get any weaker. My addiction was doing pushups and taking steroids the entire time I was in rehab. One thing you hear a lot from recovering addicts is that when you relapse, you pick up right where you left off. I didn’t really understand what this meant until, well, now.

Relapse for me wasn’t having a couple glasses of wine. Nope, it was chugging rum straight out the bottle (no chaser needed), blacking out, getting kicked out of my sober house (temporarily, thank God), then proceeding to wake up the next morning still tipsy and chug a bottle of wine at 8am. Yikes.

This episode likely won’t make sense to anyone who isn’t an addict.

“WHY COULDN’T YOU JUST STOP?”

Trust me, I’m still trying to make sense of it myself. It was embarrassing, a slap in the face to everyone supporting me, and started my sobriety count at 0 (could I have least made it a month?) Worst of all, IT WASN’T EVEN FUN! At least in the past, entertaining the devil had been somewhat amusing.

Taking that first shot of rum kicked off the awful out-of-body experience I, and many addicts, are all too familiar with. All bets are off. Someone else takes the wheel, and it sure ain’t Jesus.

This is where the silver lining of my relapse kicks in.

All day, I have been filled with a sense of gratitude for my relapse.  Although it wasn’t pretty, it proved to me that I am completely powerless over my addiction (AA Step 1). I thought I had completed this step when I agreed to rehab, but I hadn’t.

I completed Step 1 when I woke up on Sunday morning. As soon as I realized I was sober, I started crying. The sense of relief I experienced was one of the most powerful I had ever felt in my life. It was immensely humbling, in the way that relief can only feel when something completely out of your hands turns out ok.

When I saw my parents for the first time that morning, I told them, “I’m back”. They knew what I meant.

So yea, today marks day 2 of my sobriety. Although I felt a little awkward speaking about my relapse my AA meetings today, all I got back was an outpouring of love and support. That’s the amazing thing about the rooms – there’s no judgement, everyone is just glad you found your way back.

; they’re just happy to see you back.

I’m sure no one is surprised that I ended up leaving rehab early. But contrary to expectations, this was NOT by any fault of my own, but because insurance companies suck (I’m looking at you – United Healthcare).

I’m going to be honest – as soon as I left the Camp, I caved; I couldn’t help but drink some kombucha at <0.5% ABV. I was wondering if I’d get tipsy now that my body is as pure as driven snow, but no effects were felt.

Anyways, today is day 27 of sobriety, the longest I’ve gone without drinking in years. How do I feel? Pretty fantastic. As it turns out, antidepressants don’t work their best when you down them with vodka. Now, my mood is stable and I have a ton of energy. Also, my hands aren’t shaking anymore (oops, guess that really was from alcohol withdrawal).

A lot went down at the Camp. On day 4, I accepted that I am an alcoholic (SHOCKER). During week 2, I realized with the help of my counselor that I have issues with codependency and setting boundaries with people. (I was told that during my second week of sobriety, I’d be “hit by a train” of emotions. This was no BS. Sorry to anyone who saw me ugly cry). After about 23 days, I conquered my fear of playing piano for large groups of people and performed during open mic night.

Any apprehension I had about rehab vanished after just a few hours of being there. I can say without a doubt that I have never in my life experienced a stronger, more supportive community. There wasn’t a single moment where I felt like I couldn’t be myself, which was huge given that alcohol had become my tool to feeling comfortable in my own skin.

I never thought I would say these words, but leaving rehab was tough. Cafeteria food aside, living at the Camp felt like being part of a beautiful little utopia. The facility is nestled in redwood trees, and the spaces are clean and homey. No electronics are allowed, making it easier to stay focused on recovery rather than external pressures. Finally, every member of the staff does everything in their power to help you out.

In order to keep my sobriety now that I am “out in the real world” (apparently a stint in rehab doesn’t just cure you ☹) I am doing several things. I have moved into a sober living environment (SLE) in San Francisco (basically, a shared house where you are obligated to stay clean and sober). I am attending AA meetings and will be working the 12 steps. Finally, I will soon be starting an intensive outpatient program (IOP).

None of the paragraph above would have made any sense to me a month ago, but this post is just a quick update. I will be writing about my time in rehab in much more detail over the next few weeks.

Until then, I better not hear that people are betting on how long I will stay sober….

Day three (technically four now because I’ve spent several days writing this post) being back in the Bay Area.

When my plane took off from DC, I cried for what I was leaving behind. For the people I had worried and hurt countless times. For all the moments that could have been precious memories that I instead turned into nightmares. (The fact that I had hardly slept the night before may have heightened emotions.)

Six hours later as the plane landed (ungracefully) on the runway, I was crying again. This time, of relief. I had gotten some sleep! My cat had survived the flight!

And I could finally take a deep breath – I had arrived to my safe place.

Here, I am reminded of who I am as a person. I am grounded. I can check in with my mental state from a relatively objective perspective. I don’t feel the need to self-destruct.

Being back this time is different though. I am not here on vacation, or to hangout in-between jobs.

I am on a mission: to make it so that no matter my surroundings, I will be in a safe place. Basically, to make it so that my mind will be my safe place. (PSA: A stranger’s windowless van should never be a safe place.)

Days one and two being home felt surreal and relaxing. Today however, it is dawning on me that I have no idea how to accomplish this mission.

You know how earphones always seem to become instantly knotted once thrown in a bag? My mind feels like 3000 earphones were thrown in together. How do I even begin untangling this mess? (Weird metaphor I know; it’s because I just spent ten frustrating minutes untangling my own earphones.)

I will never fully understand my mind. None of us will understand our own minds. But my hope for rehab is to at least get a better understanding of why (for Christ’s sake WHY) I’ve been my own worst enemy lately.

Or is it lately?

One time as a kid, I did poorly on a test. Being the massive nerd that I was, I felt the need to punish myself by repeatedly hitting my head against a wall in my bedroom. No-one told me to do this – it was self-inflicted. I specifically remember feeling the need to punish myself because, that’s what I deserved.

That story sounded way less weird in my mind… But I digress.

I feel like when people think of self destruction, they think addiction, self-harm, purposely putting oneself in dangerous situations, etc.

But what about maintaining relationships with people that you know aren’t bringing anything positive to your life? What about letting people dictate how you live your life?

Isn’t anytime you let your self doubt dictate your life a form of self destruction?

Elaborating on this idea… Growing up, my friendships fell into an odd pattern.

The very first friendship I remember was during my kindergarten years. I had one best friend, and I did anything she wanted. Why? Because “if you don’t do X Y & Z, I won’t be your friend anymore”. Might I add that she also tried to “get rid” of my sister by pushing her down the stairs & attempting to drown her… (Obviously, I was too young at the time to realize how fucked up the situation was, to say the very least. Kids can be brutal!)

No hard feelings against the girl. In fact, today, I feel bad for her – she was an only child and obviously had never learned how to share / what having a friend meant. Ever since that first friendship however, I can basically organize my life into chapters; with each chapter being devoted to a specific person.

The “best friend” I demeaned myself for in order to please. The relationship I dropped my life and moved across the country for. Etc.

I thought that as I got older, things would change. But even just a few years ago when I first moved to DC, I was completely manipulated by a roommate. She took me under her wing and made me feel special. She told me I wasn’t just her best friend – I was her family. She even convinced my mom (aka the most important judge of personality to me) that she had my best interest in mind.

You know what ended up happening between us? As soon as I started hanging out with other people, she made my life a living hell. Literally, overnight.

It went from her telling me we should spend holidays together to her calling me an “attention seeking whore” in front of everyone in our house. From her telling me we were sisters to her locking me out purpose, even as I knocked desperately on our glass kitchen door in frigid DC winter weather.  From her confiding in me, and me in return, to her using my secrets to try to get others to turn against me. To her building me up as a person to her being on a mission to destroy every ounce of self confidence I had.

(Ironically, she was a decade older than me and was studying to be a mental health practitioner.  Go figure….)

What I don’t like about this “pattern”, I’ve found, is that it makes me sound like the victim; like some weak idiot that’s been consistently preyed on for no reason. (Maybe the fact that I give off “prey” vibes is another mental knot I need to untangle?)

_______________________________________________________________

All of the above thoughts are me trying to think of what direction to go during therapy at this rehab place. Is that normal? Should I be anticipating where a therapist will “want me to go?”

As I typed that, I thought “duh no. They are professionals, and THEY, not YOU should be guiding the direction of the conversation.” How the hell though, is some stranger supposed to navigate my mind when I can’t even do it myself?

I had a therapist last year, and I managed to convince even her that I didn’t need therapy. After a few appointments, she told me: “I don’t anticipate you needing many more sessions with me”. Once she said that, I couldn’t bear to prove her wrong (I didn’t want her to think she was a bad therapist.)

I think a big hurdle I’ll need to get past while in rehab is actually opening up instead of pretending I’m fine. I’m sure we’ve all been there – not wanting to expose our weak spots. But these are MENTAL HEALTH AND ADDICTION PROFESSIONALS FOR FUCK’S SAKE. (I’m internally yelling at myself, by the way.)

I guess I don’t want to open up because my biggest fear right now is that there may be literally nothing wrong with me. What if I’m just bored and subconsciously trying to make my life more interesting by being a shitshow? My life has been, for the most part, good up to this point– what could possibly be causing these self-destructive tendencies?!

Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it. I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free. – Michelangelo

During therapy, will I be carving out what (problems/trauma/god knows what) has been lurking in the depths of my mind, or will I be hacking at a piece of marble until it looks like something recognizable? Aka convincing myself and others that there is a [problem/trauma/god knows what] dictating my actions, when really it’s just me being a selfish idiot?

This is a long and rambling post, I know. But, it’s me trying to prep the untangling process that will (hopefully) happen in rehab.

I’ve never had a month where all I need to think about is… my thoughts? (I’ve been drinking, not thinking…)