I am not an alcoholic. A friend of mine once said I was but I don't believe him, Brian... I know why he might have thought I was an alcoholic, because when I drank, I drank in excess, and usually whiskey, Crown Royal or Jameson, sometimes Vodka, Grey Goose or Belvedere or expensive tequila which I won't mention because we are not friends. I cut back after having children, and responsibilities that don't allow extra time to act foolishly in public. I thought I was fancy for a bit, sipping red wines and participating in tastings along the Napa Valley, "Shna Shna" (rich person voice). It wasn't being fancy, it was being wild, sometimes rude and hiding behind a liquid excuse.
Alcohol is thought of as an exception to the drug rule, we can still be an acceptable member of American society and drink regularly. Though I dabbled with cocaine and ate more acid than half the hippies in San Francisco my number one enemy drug demon was nicotine. Luckily I have had the upper hand since my 20 year highschool reunion; it will be 5 years in September. Smokers were forced outside into a covered tiny, overcrowded area and this caused enough discomfort to turn my phobia meter to new heights. I am a firm believer in air and personal space so I quit the next month. I never was really able to smoke comfortably indoors because of other issues, claustrophobia, asthma and a preference to clean smells. I was trying to quit by the time I was 16 years old. There were multiple attempts that lasted 1-6 months at best. In my youth there were cigarette vending machines in alleys, and my favorite one was at the Owl Tavern. My uncle smoked; I pilfered his Marlboros from on top of his refrigerator. Everyone smoked when I was a kid. There was a smoking section in every restaurant. Flying to Thailand at age 6 I fantasized about being able to go to the top floor of the airplane and smoke at the bar. The first boy I ever really loved made me seriously quit the first time. I was very proud. I was 19 years old and made it 3 years without a cigarette. First loves become first tragedies and I snuck cigarettes with his little sister for the next 3 years--if you ask Eminem it's what happens "...when a tornado meets a volcano." My next relationship was with a man who let it be me be me. He accepted me no matter what drugs I chose to do, and I did whatever I wanted when I wanted to do it. That made it very hard to find excuses to smoke. So I quit. It wasn't hard after so many failed attempts. I am irritated that after quitting and starting so many times the 20 lbs that became my new habit never left. I'd rather be fat and healthy, is my motto, but I would actually prefer to not be fat and still be healthy. Quitting cocaine was a bit hard, especially when you have a serious Peruvian flake connection and limitless income. That's a long, exciting story, that I will not be sharing today. Quitting acid was pretty easy after that crazy Maui trip, and quitting marijuana was really easy, especially when it became a prescription medication (boring). Quitting alcohol was easy. Quitting cigarettes, how was that? One of the hardest things I have ever done. I promised myself when I failed an attempt at age 16 that I would quit smoking by the time I was the 25. I was a complete liar and couldn't even keep a promise to myself. I even quit caffeine, but my migraines announced that one cup of coffee was going to be just fine, as one semi acceptable speed requirement was necessary to sustain my livelihood. Good thing I don't go to NA meetings, they would not consider me squeaky clean, but I'm clean enough for my liking. A little caffeine is better than taking pain medications for migraines, in my over stated opinion. On May 2, 2014 I had my last glass of wine (after many glasses before that one). I was just done. Dan reported in the morning that the bathroom looked like a murders scene, I may have projectile vomited red wine and oysters, it must have been a chemical reaction. I ruined my favorite jeans, they had a giant dark stain all over the lap area, I may have vomited on them, with a horrid hangover the following day and I left my ID in the cab. Those jeans were expensive and they made me look like I actually had a butt. The cab driver was nice enough to return my ID 3 days later when he was in the neighborhood again. I cleaned up the bathroom pretty well in my inebriated state, and don't even remember any of it, but I am just too old for this kind of crap. It wasn't hard, alcohol stinks literally when you don't drink for a while. I don't judge, I've always been a designated driver type of person anyway. My 3 years of sobriety anniversary is coming up and I should do something fun for myself. like stay in bed with a book all day. You never know, dreams do come true.
0 Comments
|
My mind wandersI write whatever I'm thinking in no particular order Archives
July 2023
Categories |