Hello! I wrote this introduction and started this blog in September of 2009. As you will see, now almost 9 years later, I’ve continued to drink…
I originally wrote this as the introduction:
“This blog is the tale of a drunk. It will document either my deliverance or demise from what some people in our culture call the “Demon-Drink”; ALCOHOL.
I’m in my mid-fifties and had my first taste of alcohol when I was about six, but have been drinking steadily since I was 19. I can still remember my first sip of the emerald green, oh so sweet “Creme de Menthe”. So began my love affair with Alcohol!”
See the “About Me” page (next to Home, above) for more of my background info.
Your comments, input, advice, admonishment, whatever, as I travel this journey are all most welcome and appreciated. I so desperately want to be “finally free”. See my blog posts below for updates.
I was dusting my apartment a few minutes ago and paused as I wiped off my upright piano — the only piece of furniture that’s stayed with me throughout my life, since I was 15 or so. When I removed the sheet music I thought to myself, “You never play this and you probably never will at the rate you’re going.” I had to agree, so I put the music away and closed the lid on the piano. I’ve never closed the lid, except for moving.
And then I thought that perhaps I should just put all of my things away, the things I’ll probably never use again; my guitar (which I’ve never learned to play); the clarinet (also never learned); the Irish D and Tin whistle’s I haven’t learned to play either. Oh, and the Chromatic Harmonica too. And why not pack up my books while I’m at it? In fact — great idea (!) — why not pack up all my things, like, everything as if I’ve died!? There certainly wouldn’t be any work for my kids to do when that time comes! Why not?
I might as well, because with all the drinking I keep on doing, I’m headed for an early grave anyway. This way I can plan it. You know — this way I can at least accomplish something from the past I’ve wasted and most likely will continue to waste as I’ve done so well, in such an accomplished fashion! Yes, at least I have accomplished one thing in the past 30 years — I’ve become a very good drunk. Well, not good per-say, but you know what I mean.
I think I’ll have a garage sale.
Yes, today is Friday. Tuesday came and went. I had a 6-pack of Corona’s tonight. It’s only 4.5% alcohol compared to 5% for regular beer — and that really DOES make a difference. So while I had the 6-pack tonight, it’s less than I had last night, which was a fair bit more. Progress!!!
Right…well, in a way it is. I stayed home tonight. Didn’t go to the pub. For me – hey – that IS progress! Tomorrow, I’m hoping to drink no more than 3 or 4. Then SUNDAY, I’ll start back on the Antabuse.
Let’s see how that goes….again….*sigh*….
Still drinking I am. WHY? Other than passionately loving beer, I dunno. Ok, I am an alcoholic — there is that. I keep making plans to quit. THAT’S obviously not going well. My blood pressure is way back up there again; 147/96 tonight. Not good. I have pledged to get back onto the Antabuse by Tuesday. Let’s see how that goes…
I’ve been drinking like a fish for the past two + weeks.
I almost took the Antabuse yesterday, but I thought I could go out and have a final, proverbial, “just a few”. There’s the insanity of alcoholism at its best! I am no exception to the rule. Of course I want to be, but that is the delusion that I and all alcoholics suffer from, plain and simple.
So I am most certainly going to start back on the Antabuse tomorrow now, but not take it every day. I know, I know! But the fact is Antabuse, even after ONE dose, stays in the body for up to two weeks. One dose IS enough to prevent me from drinking. So what I’m going to do is take it every few days, with the hope that that will minimize the tiring side effects and make it easier for me to eventually stop taking — if and when that day ever comes. It may not. I really don’t trust myself now, and that’s a good thing.
The other think I’m going to do is start going back to A.A. meetings. Last month when I started the Antabuse I couldn’t imagine it. I thought I was “done” with A.A. meetings. But now I know that they will give me the one thing I found a bit lacking during those 4 weeks sober; a social outlet that’s easy for me to have. It’s not something new, like joining a church, which I’ve been thinking about doing. Going to A.A. meetings is old-hat for me, so very easy and comfortable. I can go to the meetings I most enjoy, in the evenings. I know this will be especially important for me if I do stop taking the Antabuse. As I said, I just can’t trust myself not to drink. Not yet anyway, and perhaps I never will. I’m ok with that now.
God help me, as I help myself.
Well, the last week or so has been a bust. I thought I could merrily moderate my drinking. Ha! But this is no surprise for a fricking alcoholic is it!? Of course not. So I’m right back into the thick of it, getting wasted almost every day.
Ok, since Wednesday I might have a good excuse. I might. I saw my Physiotherapist and described some of the symptoms I’ve been having for almost a year; numbness in my feet — which I thought could be alcoholic neuropathy. More recently, I’ve noticed that my left leg muscles have shrunken a bit. She noticed that and thinks I might have some nerve constriction going on, which she might be able to help me with. That, or worse — it could be early symptoms of ALS or MS!!!
Wouldn’t that be just peachy — I sober up and then slowly shrivel up and die!
Just ducky. Makes me want to drink.
But I’m not going to drink myself to death prematurely. I’m going to get back on the damn Antabuse, regardless of the side effects. After all, what’s a good drunk’s “Tale” without a good bit of drama and suspense?
“To shrivel or not to shrivel, that is the question!”
My Father used the “God damn it” expression many times, but only when it was totally appropriate, so it didn’t sound like a swear-word/expression. Rather, his total expletive way to speak the truth, at the moment.
I tapered off the Antabuse last week because the side effects where seemingly brutal. Looking back, I think I was suffering more from the Benzo withdrawals, from my 30 year Clonazepam usage, which I used in a very low dose mostly because of the alcohol. The Clonazepam mitigated the alcohol’s effects.
Anyway, being free of the the Clonazepam and Antabuse, I thought that I might be able to “moderate” my drinking. NOPE! I haven’t been free enough from the booze for the last 40 years to even think about moderating it. So I tried. Last Thursday, then Sunday, and again today. Today, I drank…BECAUSE I REALLY WANTED TO. So much for moderating.
So…tomorrow, I’m going to go back on the Antabuse. I don’t care what side effects it will give me. Because, it gives me FREEDOM from the thought of drinking. What a blessing!!!
So ya, that’s where I’m at. I think it’s all good, and will be in the end. I hope.
In the stillness of the night — a star is born. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how bright you are, how near yet far.
One month sober…The storm has subsided, thank God. The past few days I have felt relatively normal, although I’m still feeling light headed most of the time, like I’m 3 beers in. It’s not a comfortable feeling, but better than its been.
My sense of smell has recovered to a point that it’s better than I can remember it ever being. I’m seeing more clearly too. Mentally, I feel like a stranger in someone else’s clothes. This guy I don’t recognize. The me I remember left about 30 years ago. Part of him is here now, but mostly not. I’m thinking like a rocket scientist. I mean, I’ve grown old, more experienced in life in spite of being absent. I’m sure that doesn’t make any sense, but it’s the only way that I can sensibly put it.
I have had some cravings to drink in the past few days. But the old man who’s here now knows that I can’t, and shouldn’t. It’s never done me any good, and it never will, and so I won’t.
I’ve been able to go to the pub several times already and happily drink zero-alcohol “Bud Prohibition” beer. I’ve even enjoyed my bar buddies, which proves they were not just “drinking buddies” as some family members have rather sarcastically described them previously. So there! But, sit in a barber shop long enough and you’ll eventually end up getting a hair cut! So, I don’t plan to keep up the pub visits for long. It’s time to transition myself away from all of that. Time to catch up to this new fella.