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Created on: July 05, 2009
This morning, as I write, my stomach is churning. My mind is sweating and I want nothing more than a beer.
You see, I am an alcoholic. I've been drinking so much over the last couple of years that I have idea how not to be an alcoholic. It's a pattern of behavior I've learned to deal with, and to break up this pattern.
I'm trying to cut it down. I've managed to go an entire week now without cigarettes and that's a good sign. I can recall, though, cutting down. I think that may be the way I have to go. There are people now in my life that have never seen me without alcohol in my system.
I'm at a point in my life where I need to let this beast go. I can spontaneously cry and laugh at the same time, and am not sure about anything.
I'm eating oyster crackers so that the buildup of acid in my stomach will dissolve. I had already torn about the kitchen here at work to try to find some backing soda to settle my stomach.
Yes, I did say work. I'm lucky enough to have a job that I can take some time away from my day, do things like write, eat oyster crackers, and reflect upon being a drunk. I have to work on my self-esteem. I remember my last long bout of sobriety. It lasted twenty-three days. I cannot possibly tell you how much money I've squandered on alcohol.
With the stomach now settling I can begin to try to plot my strategy to cut down. I bought four cans of beer yesterday. I think I'll shoot with three today, perhaps two tomorrow. The problem is that the thought of giving away the security blanket that is alcohol is very pressuring for me.
I see my therapist in about eight days. I see my lover in six days. I'd really like to have weaned a good deal less by the time I see her. Oh yes, I'm dealing with becoming a lesbian, but I'm unsure if one should really blame one's sexuality on a drinking issue.
Still, it's confusing. To take away the comfort that is alcoholism is pretty damning. To think of it never walking into my life again is traumatic, and thus the choice to slowly wean out of that.
Delirium Tremens run down my right leg. I've no insurance, so going to a treatment center or a hospital is out of the question. I've had the DT's before, and let me tell you they are a special kind hell.
Just thinking about buying a beer now calms me down. This is the nature of addiction in my life.
My eyes glass over at the thought of crying.
My mouth twitches, my body cannot adjust to multiple different types of heat. I know from experience this process. In two to two and one-half hours, I can have alcohol in my system.
Just writing this is upsetting to me. However, I need to write about it. If I don't, I'm a dead woman.
Learn more about this author, Caroline Tigeress.
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