Today marks my 21st anniversary of being a part of Alcoholics Anonymous. But, it is not my AA Birthday. I did not stay sober. I drank, again.
Today is also St. Patrick's Day. Why talk about Alcoholics Anonymous on St. Patrick's Day? What began as a Christian feast day, celebrating the establishment of Christianity in Ireland, suspending the Lenten restrictions on eating and alcohol drinking, has degenerated into a day of celebrating Irish heritage and drinking to excess. I was among the revelers, participating in bar crawls, drinking green beer, and getting blind, black-out drunk, no religious connotation whatsoever. An excuse to claim my Irish heritage and dial-up my debauchery.
The problem arriving upon awakening, the alarm too loud, my mouth parched -- feeling like an ashtray, though I'm a non-smoker -- stomach roiling, jittery, and surreal. And the horror of finding a stranger in my bed, or worse, not recognizing my surroundings or playmate. I well remember the "walk of shame", that wonderful drive back home, wearing the same rumpled party clothes from the night before, make-up sweated or rubbed off. Head full of self-recriminations and the crushing loneliness -- the searing, heart-wrenching, piteous loneliness.
Unfortunately for me, I was locked in a cycle of alcoholism. Mine presented as thus: Sunday through Thursday nights, did not drink; Friday and Saturday nights, all bets were off, I drank, as was my inalienable right; I held down a responsible position in healthcare; I had a home; I never had a DUI. I was good. However, I failed to notice the whole truth. Those excruciatingly humiliating experiences were starting to stack up and worsen with time. Employing the use of bravado, telling myself that I meant to find a one night stand, I was a newly single, attractive woman with needs. This is how the world works for singles nowadays. I needed to toughen up.
Eventually, I began to notice crossing "lines in the sand" I set for myself...I'd drink a bit on a Wednesday night if invited out or felt the pull to socialize. I'd drive home impaired and realize how stupid I was. Despite being able to kid myself about many Monday morning bouts of flu, I was powerless to deny the one Monday I awoke still reeling drunk from the night before. Though I called in sick...Again...I was conscious of my lie and felt deeply convicted. Compelled to take drastic action, I went to the bar.
Oddly enough, I had met a young man with brooding good looks, who would sit at the bar and drink soda. Though I would flirt and cajole him, he refused to drink alcohol. I knew he lived next door to the tavern, as an on-site caretaker; what I did not know was that young man would share a secret that would save my life.
So why would I speak of sobriety on a holiday known for imbibing alcoholic beverages? Alcoholics Anonymous, working the steps, and carrying the message of hope, held the key that unlocked my self-made prison. I gained a host of friends, gained purpose, mended and improved relationships, became more honest with myself and others, became more realiable, and became enough. I also became the kind of woman worthy of a good man and an awesome daughter.
This time around has lasted nineteen years and counting...
If you wake up one day and wonder if your problem may be alcohol, I recommend Alcoholics Anonymous. It appears to work for me. Here's hoping you have a sober St. Patrick's Day!
Today is also St. Patrick's Day. Why talk about Alcoholics Anonymous on St. Patrick's Day? What began as a Christian feast day, celebrating the establishment of Christianity in Ireland, suspending the Lenten restrictions on eating and alcohol drinking, has degenerated into a day of celebrating Irish heritage and drinking to excess. I was among the revelers, participating in bar crawls, drinking green beer, and getting blind, black-out drunk, no religious connotation whatsoever. An excuse to claim my Irish heritage and dial-up my debauchery.
The problem arriving upon awakening, the alarm too loud, my mouth parched -- feeling like an ashtray, though I'm a non-smoker -- stomach roiling, jittery, and surreal. And the horror of finding a stranger in my bed, or worse, not recognizing my surroundings or playmate. I well remember the "walk of shame", that wonderful drive back home, wearing the same rumpled party clothes from the night before, make-up sweated or rubbed off. Head full of self-recriminations and the crushing loneliness -- the searing, heart-wrenching, piteous loneliness.
Unfortunately for me, I was locked in a cycle of alcoholism. Mine presented as thus: Sunday through Thursday nights, did not drink; Friday and Saturday nights, all bets were off, I drank, as was my inalienable right; I held down a responsible position in healthcare; I had a home; I never had a DUI. I was good. However, I failed to notice the whole truth. Those excruciatingly humiliating experiences were starting to stack up and worsen with time. Employing the use of bravado, telling myself that I meant to find a one night stand, I was a newly single, attractive woman with needs. This is how the world works for singles nowadays. I needed to toughen up.
Eventually, I began to notice crossing "lines in the sand" I set for myself...I'd drink a bit on a Wednesday night if invited out or felt the pull to socialize. I'd drive home impaired and realize how stupid I was. Despite being able to kid myself about many Monday morning bouts of flu, I was powerless to deny the one Monday I awoke still reeling drunk from the night before. Though I called in sick...Again...I was conscious of my lie and felt deeply convicted. Compelled to take drastic action, I went to the bar.
Oddly enough, I had met a young man with brooding good looks, who would sit at the bar and drink soda. Though I would flirt and cajole him, he refused to drink alcohol. I knew he lived next door to the tavern, as an on-site caretaker; what I did not know was that young man would share a secret that would save my life.
So why would I speak of sobriety on a holiday known for imbibing alcoholic beverages? Alcoholics Anonymous, working the steps, and carrying the message of hope, held the key that unlocked my self-made prison. I gained a host of friends, gained purpose, mended and improved relationships, became more honest with myself and others, became more realiable, and became enough. I also became the kind of woman worthy of a good man and an awesome daughter.
This time around has lasted nineteen years and counting...
If you wake up one day and wonder if your problem may be alcohol, I recommend Alcoholics Anonymous. It appears to work for me. Here's hoping you have a sober St. Patrick's Day!
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