Thanksgiving in Alcohol Rehab!

Well, first of all, when I signed myself into rehab, it sure never occurred to me that I would be spending birthdays and holidays in treatment! Thank God! Honestly, at that time, it may have delayed or deterred my decision to enter treatment.

So by Thanksgiving, I’ve been in treatment for my alcoholism over a month, wow time flies! I’ve made new friends within the house and local twelve step meetings, developing some very close bonds. Our counselors are very smart, compassionate and supportive ladies! They don’t hesitate to give us a swift kick in the rear as necessary! And believe me, sometimes we need it! Ha Ha Ha! They are helping me learn and understand so much about myself and my disease.

One very important thing I’ve learned is that it is NOT my fault that I’m an alcoholic! And I’m not a bad person because of it! I have a disease, yes, alcoholism and addiction are diseases. We will cover that in another post.

Brief Background:
I was raised in a conservative church but drifted away after high school. My boyfriend and I began attending a wonderful church a few years ago. It had always been instilled in me that drinking and using drugs was a sin.

As my drinking progressed, I prayed a million prayers for my recovery. I truly believed by attending church and drinking that I was an immoral and hypocritical person. At that time, I had no clue that I was an alcoholic and had a disease. However I knew something was wrong because no matter how hard or what I tried, I couldn’t seem to control my drinking.

Ok, back to Thanksgiving in treatment. We have been working on holiday coping strategies in group and how to talk with our families about ways they can help. My counselor and I have discussed various concerns and anxieties I have. By the way, she’s amazing! I feel so comfortable talking with her and respect her advice and input.

I told my sister when she picks me up, should we stop at a store on the way to her house, to stay close to me in case I would try to sneak and purchase alcohol. I didn’t think I would, but if tempted, I needed help in holding myself accountable.

I’ve already had two four hour passes away from home (treatment), and they went well. Thanksgiving will be my first eight hour pass. The day before I am so excited to see my family and feast on their awesome Thanksgiving dishes!

Thanksgiving morning comes and I’m excited but suddenly nerves and anxiety set in. Wow, I can’t believe how nervous I am, slight trembling of the hands, getting a bit nauseous. I’m not really sure why I’m so nervous and anxious. In part, I’m worried about how my family will treat me, preaching, inflicting guilt, bringing up the past...I don’t know! My family has been mostly loving and supportive so this really shouldn’t be a concern.

I decide to talk with our resident aid (RA) to see if we can figure out why I’m so anxious and how to settle down. She asks if I might be better off to stay at the house today…hmmm. Nope, I really want to see my family. I take some antacid and tell her if I get overwhelmed, I will come back early. We agree that’s a good plan. She’s awesome, encouraging, and positive and sets me straight as needed.

My beautiful niece arrives to take me to my sister’s house for dinner. We enjoy a nice talk on the way, catch up, and I tell her a bit about my anxiety. She lightens the mood and we joke and laugh, I’m feeling a little better.

We arrive at my sister’s and my sweet little granddaughter greets me. Oh it feels so good to hug my little munchkin! There’s my precious grandson with that smile that brightens any room! Of course it was great to hug my daughter who’s struggling with her addiction, waiting on her bed in treatment to become available. Everyone welcomes me with hugs and all is well.

Although it’s great to see everyone, my son was not able to make it and I miss his presence. We did not part on good terms; neither of us were in a good state and had an altercation. He moved in with a buddy and we haven’t talked since then.

Thanksgiving dinner is awesome as always. Mom, my sister and brother-in-law are great cooks! And my niece made some delicious macaroni and cheese! We talk, discuss my rehab and progress, laugh and enjoy each other’s company. Dad expresses how proud he is of me, tells me to keep up the good work, I can do it and glad to see I’ve put on some weight. Mom, my daughter and sister are very encouraging, also happy that I’m finally gaining weight (up from about 80 lbs to 95 lbs). I explained that we eat very well at home and reassure them I’m working very hard on my recovery so I can come home as soon as possible.

Earlier, I had called my boyfriend and left him a message wishing him and his family a Happy Thanksgiving. After dinner my phone rings, it’s him. Suddenly my hands tremble with nervous excitement. We talk a bit, catch up, he gives me words of encouragement, tells me he loves me and I reciprocate. It was so nice to hear his voice!

Well, it’s time to head home; eight hours went by pretty quickly. It’s hard to leave my precious grandbabies but I know they’re in good care with Mom and my sister and brother-in-law. My family and I hug; tell each other how much we love each other. I assure them we’ll see each other again soon.

My sister drives me back to rehab and we have a really good talk. It’s been difficult for me to talk with my family about my disease. This has been due to the shame, guilt and remorse I’ve carried. I felt this way for letting them and myself down, not being there when they needed me, and not being able to get it together on my own.

We pull into the drive; I’m home, fortunately with several minutes to spare before my curfew. My sister and I talk, reminisce, laugh, hug, cry, and laugh through tears. She apologizes for not being there for me, for not being able to help me more. I had no idea she felt this way and tell her she has no need to apologize, explaining that I needed professional help to overcome my addiction and no one could have done it for me. We hug tightly, trying to fight back the tears, say I love you and we’ll see each other soon!

I walk in greet “my girls” and proceed with our RA for my drug screen. Drug screens are required immediately after each visit and pass. Yes, I passed. Now off to the living room to catch up with my roomies.

Everyone had a great day and visit with their families. Most of us complained about eating too much and how the time with our families passed too quickly. We talk and watch a little TV together. Then we raid the refrigerator for a late night snack of Thanksgiving leftovers, laughing and joking about the weight we’re gaining while pigging out again! LOL

Oh, I’m exhausted; it’s been a long and rather emotional but wonderful day! I say good night and I love you to my girls and head to bed. As I lie in bed, I reflect on the cherished moments of the day, shed a few sad and happy tears. I pray and thank God for such a wonderful day with my family, my extended family (my roomies and RAs), my counselors, rehab and sobriety. He has blessed me with so much and in so many ways that I cannot begin to count! God you are such a good, good Father! Thank you for loving, protecting and guiding me through life! Amen and goodnight!

Brief History of My Battle with Alcoholism

This is my story of my battle with alcoholism. Although I am blogging under a pen name to protect the innocent involved in my alcoholic nightmare, all accounts are true and accurate to my life.

My first drink was at about 14 years old then, only an occasional drink or two until about 21 years old. Each time I did drink, I liked the buzz that came with it, I felt freer to be me, not the shy and reserved person I was when sober. With alcohol, I could lighten up and be happy go lucky.

Later I married a man who, I did not realize, was an alcoholic. We had a child together; I also had a child from a previous marriage. I allowed myself and my children to stay in that verbally, emotionally and, sometimes, physically abusive marriage for ten years. During that time, I drank occasionally on the weekends but those occasional weekends of drinking eventually became more frequent. By the eighth year of that marriage, I developed an “if ya can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” attitude, resulting in drinking 2, 3 or 4 times a week.

After the marriage ended, I met a man that made me very happy. He respected me and treated me like a lady, my soul mate. I slowly became happier with myself and life, drinking became less desirable and enjoyable. There were times that I could even have an occasional beer or two without getting drunk or needing more.

About five years into the relationship, we moved in together and he proposed to me, I was ecstatic! However, I was later diagnosed with fibromyalgia and a herniated disc and compressed nerve in my neck. Over time, I wound up on all kinds of medication for pain, sleeping, muscle relaxers, etc. I had spinal surgery to remove the disc and severe nerve compression. Needless to say, after surgery, I was dropped from most of my medication.

Over the next two years my children moved in and out of our home, my boyfriend was working a lot and I spent most of my time at home alone. To fill these voids, I would occasionally drink a little too much on the weekends rather than the social drinks he and I previously shared. I also began buying beer while at the grocery and sneaking it into the house, drinking in private and trying to hide the fact that I was drinking and drunk, which lead to many arguments and fights. To try to cover up my secretive drinking, I would drink coffee and make excuses that my actions were the result of my medication and too much coffee, and countless other lies.

I sought advice and guidance from my pastor and church family which would help for a while but never long enough. My boyfriend and I tried to work things out but it took its toll on him. He moved out for two years. We continued to see each other off and on trying to work out our relationship. I began outpatient counseling and attending twelve step group meetings. Although those steps were helping, that didn’t last long either, about four months at best. Even then, I was still drinking at times.

Eventually, I lost two part-time jobs and my home went into foreclosure. By this time, I was barely eating a meal a day and drinking 4-5 days a week, sometimes 6! And when I say drinking, I mean a 6 pack of 16 ouncers or more, usually more! Mind you that I only weighed between 85-90 pounds!

Beer was my mainstay but I could always find a way to muddle past the taste of wine, vodka or whiskey to get the escape for which I was searching and needing. I HAD to have alcohol! Drinking, brownouts, blackouts, passing out, waking up with regrets and remorse, vowing to never do it again, became my normalcy, a viscous cycle. I needed alcohol to survive anything, everything! Ironically, what I had to have to survive was destroying me, my life and my loved ones!