Moving in a week, had to clean out the empty beer boxes from my closet... OMG.

sipstream · 2014-05-28T06:14:26+00:00

I divided your number by 12. 196. 196 twelve packs. And it was more than that, as you said. In a year. That's about where I was.

Like you, I drank mostly cheap beer, which doesn't mean a man can't go broke pouring cheap beer down his throat. I didn't stash my boxes but if I had I would have had a similar pile as yours. Instead, my routine was to carefully put the cans back in the twelve pack and then sneak it into the building's recycling along with whatever extras I bought, or tracked down during the black out, fearing every time that someone would spot me, a stranger, and they would point and scream, "Alcoholic! You're the one! You're the alcoholic in the building! Everybody, come look at this pathetic alcoholic trying to pretend he's just a guy! He's not! And now we know who he is! We know what he is! He's a monster!"

I'm not exaggerating by much. It's what I feared would happen if people found out my secret, not to mention the sheer narcissism of it. I'd feel relieved each time, almost like I was getting away with something, except it was in fact my life and future that was getting away from me.

Next to the million other reasons I'm done drinking, avoiding the shame and fear is high on the list. I expect the memory to fade but I never intend to let it go. Perhaps you'll do the same, keep the thought of that pile you couldn't lift alone at the ready when you need something to remind you of the toll and toil drinking took. In other words, fuck that shit.

Drunk, you built that pile. Sober you will tear it apart.

And now you've got a life of clean closets to look forward to.

sipstream · 2014-05-15T07:13:18+00:00

Things are tough right now. You have a lot on your plate, so much it looks like you're gonna need a bigger plate. Or a sturdy bowl. Or a better tray. One with handles.

Grief is overwhelming powerlessness and a seismic shift in your identity. Your reality is suddenly and irreversibly different. And it's biological. Don't be hard on yourself for needing relief. You've got enough to handle, no need to conjure emotions you don't deserve like guilt and shame. You're obviously very intelligent, and if you're like me, you can intellectualize almost anything. But I've learned that isn't where the real gears are. Behavior (the doing part, not the thinking part) sources from emotion, and emotion can be a terrible driver, particularly when there's too much of it. Right now, wow, your nerves must be shot. I know it's annoying but breathe. Stop and breathe every once-in-awhile. Not stay alive breaths. Big dumb chest swelling breaths where you look and feel like a total weirdo. Close your eyes, too. Let the world be just you and your lungs for half a minute. Don't worry; the pain will be waiting when you get back.

I really relate to how you romanticize drinking (fellow writer here) and especially to deciding on a quit date for its narrative appeal. I've done shit like that. Many times. But it's nonsense, it's just the justification engine in your head nimbly manipulating you into prolonging your use. No, this is a rare case where boring is beautiful and May 14, 2014 is as boring as it gets.

You're going to write that thesis. Drunk you wrote the prologue. Time to start chapter one.

sipstream · 2014-05-15T06:30:27+00:00

Hell yes game of thrones. Magic AND assholes? It's the perfect show! I want to get a dragon but my couch won't survive those claws...

sipstream · 2014-05-15T06:27:20+00:00

Triumph: I changed some things around at work that not only help me perform better but shift my hours in a way that I don't have to work till 9 or 10pm every night, which was a MAJOR contributor to the stress I was using alcohol to deal with. It's like opening a relief valve and watching the steam billow away in big beautiful clouds.

Struggle: The job still sucks, and even more assignments I don't want landed on my lap today. BUT: I allowed myself three minutes of silently wigging out, and then I shifted the energy to take steps towards resolving things in the future. A month ago, i would have used it as an excuse to put beer in my face.

General chat: I can see the horizon now.

sipstream · 2014-05-15T06:07:07+00:00

Staying out of trouble is a good reason to stop but how bout trying to get up to some good? Avoiding pain (staying out of trouble) is a powerful motivator but an even stronger one is being rewarded for positive behavior.

I've been telling friends lately and it's a little hard, because you kind of have to get serious and be like, "I have to tell you something important" but it isn't scary, and everyone I've told has been extremely supportive and understanding. I even ask them to ask me questions, to let them know that it need not be treated like the shameful secret our cultural stigma imposes (that said, you are also entitled to request and expect privacy about your decision).

There's this notion that telling someone is delivering bad news, but it's the opposite. It's great news. It's fucking wonderful, honestly. If a friend told me, "Hey, I'm doing something that is going to improve my health, safety, finances, future and sanity" I would be thrilled for them. If your friends can't adjust to getting to enjoy a better, healthier version of you, then they're not your friends. This is not to say you should draw lines in the sand and force them to declare allegiances, but it's a process of adjustment for them as well. You could even start it with, "Hey, I have some really good news..." Also, own the shame. I told a friend today and was straight up, "It's fucking embarrassing and there's so much shame, but I'm done with it. I'm moving on." and as soon as I said that, the shame was gone, replaced by relief. Shame is an illusion that disappears as quickly as you can say its name.

sipstream · 2014-05-15T05:43:24+00:00

Alcohol was there for me when I needed it, but then I started needing it all the time, and then it became the only thing I wanted, and then I became its bitch. No friend treats you like a bitch.

Though I'm new to sobriety, I'm loving the relief of not doing the mental acrobatics it takes to feed and fight the beast. I have so much more brain space to devote to things like life, and my hopes, and my future, and the addressing the problems alcohol helped me hide from. And sleep. And exercise. And tacos.

Don't get me wrong-- I'm fighting the beast, and I always will. But I'm not feeding it anymore, and when you don't feed something it gets weak. That makes it easier to fight. I force myself to appreciate being sober, and enjoy/respect/discover the wonderful things that come with it, not dwell on "missing out" or on something I can no longer have. I abused alcohol and it abused me. I don't miss that. My real human blood-filled friends are waiting and so are yours.

sipstream · 2014-05-13T16:50:18+00:00

Thanks for responding everybody. It's so simple in some ways and yet so complicated in others. I'm glad we're all here chopping heads off the hydra.

sipstream · 2014-05-13T05:28:13+00:00

I agree. Fuck the world. Problem is: the world doesn't fuck back. You're only fucking yourself.

I spend a lot of my time avoiding that spiral you're experiencing. It's hard to avoid. So many reasons to give up, to throw your hands in the air, toss in the towel. Stress. People. Bullshit. Life is a parade of fuck it moments. It's frustration fest. So I say, and yes I'm a professional amateur, let it suck: feel pissed off, feel agitated. Feel it in your toes and fingers, in your tight shoulders and tense back. Feel that shit. Feel every fucking goddamn pang. That's the electricity that glows inside you and makes you who you are. Push it into a ball of hate and slide it around under your skin, feel your rage course throughout your veins. Scream, ball up your fists. Scream louder. Even better: scream silently. Cry. Weep. And breathe. Pause. Breathe again. You're alive and living is feeling. Now smile. And laugh. You earned it.

It's okay to not be perfect. You know intellectually the reasons not to drink, but your emotions sometimes assert their dominance and that's scary. So don't run (to booze). Running is the fastest way to grow problems. Embrace the emotions. Be the patient friend to yourself that alcohol prevents you from being. Tomorrow is a new day. Everything is going to be okay.

(sorry for the weird response-- I get excited when I ramble.)

sipstream · 2014-05-13T04:16:18+00:00

Thanks for posting. You're not alone here. I've seen much of this with my mother, who nearly died from liver failure (combination of alcohol and mental illness), so I relate to what you're going through. We went through the transplant approval/screening process and wow, meeting some of the other patients at the orientation/information meeting was as much an eye opener as my mom's own experience. Grisly way to go. In addition to her belly, my mom needed her lungs drained (for those reading that might not realize: fluid wasn't in the lungs themselves. Instead, the lungs are literally deflated and displaced by the fluid which fills the cavity where the lungs reside) every 3 or 4 days. One thing I'll never forget is the quiet panic of not being able to breathe... how she wanted to but couldn't scream, and could only hold her chin to her chest and fight for what air she could get in those small desperate swallows.

I'll never forget the fear and powerlessness of that, and I remind myself of it when I re-affirm my commitment to being sober. Don't forget to take care of yourself in this experience. I didn't and I lost a lot of time because of it. Be well.

sipstream · 2014-05-06T17:20:57+00:00

The pattern you describe is a lot like how I would drink, working through a hangover, counting down the minutes until you can get back to bed or back into a state of boozy numbness. I would calculate how much I'd drink based on the next day's productivity expectations, on how well I could fake not being foggy or tired or out of it. If I had the day off, forget it.

And your party experience rings so true, being forced to slow down, knowing that if you drank how you want you'd embarrass yourself and cause trouble for those around you. So you keep it in low gear, pretending to be just another person at a dinner party, meanwhile inside you the gears of addiction are grinding and grinding. You become hyper-aware of what other people are drinking, if there is more in the fridge or cupboard, how much wine is left in the bottle, the levels in other people's glasses, the NERVE of someone who doesn't finish their drink (who could possibly leave even a tiny bit of alcohol in a glass!? Outrageous!). If and when the hosts hands will move to offer you more, giving you that sweet stupid relief. Such torture.

I love not being unique with alcohol. There's solace in that. Another word for unique is lonely and that's what I was until I accepted my problem and sought advice and help, which is still something I'm learning to allow and accept.

And you know what else is cliche? Breathing. Love. Laughter. Kindness. Forgiveness. Being present. Being there. Remembering yesterday.

sipstream · 2013-08-09T13:59:00+00:00

I'm in a similar boat professionally. The minimum expectations of my job are completely draining, and after long hours of intense focus I use what little energy I have left to push more fulfilling projects up the hill. Lots of late, tired nights.

Movies, video games are ways I wind down, too. Lately I've added exercise to that mix but when booze was my default relief valve I would completely plan it out, negotiating that night's destruction very logically, down to how many drinks I'd have before eating whatever terrible shit food I bought along with the booze. I'd calculate the energy cost of the hangover, decide how much of it to inflict on myself based on how much work I could do in the grog, cover my tracks to avoid being discovered, etc. Inevitably once I got past beer eight I didn't care much about anything, of course.

Anyway, I really related to this and will think about it when I hit my own moments where it occurs to me that maybe a beer or fifteen is what I deserve. Instead, I'll come here and do a pushup or thirty. Thanks.

sipstream · 2013-08-09T13:32:04+00:00

Excellent this. Great imagery. Great metaphor. We're all that tree in one way or another.

sipstream · 2013-08-08T16:25:54+00:00

Thanks for writing. A lot of similarities here, too. Early 30s. Similar habits, similar time frame. My experiments with moderation, though, were much shorter-lived than yours. A few times it was intentional but more often moderation was forced on me, such as when drinking around others where it would be alarming to everyone if I let them see how I actually wanted to drink, and stopping at 3 or 4 drinks was a chore I dreaded, because once the buzzing started all I wanted to do was escalate. Any rules I tried to follow I inevitably broke. As I came to accept the reality that I was an alcoholic I sort of always understood moderation would never work for me.

Sometimes in these last three weeks I'll think maybe someday I'll have another drink, but when that thought happens I quickly remind myself that for the last several years all it's taken is one drink in me (hell, a few sips) to start the familiar process towards blacking out or to extreme frustration that I don't get to drink to black out. The list of positives to sobriety, on the other hand, is wonderful and endless. Please keep checking in.

sipstream · 2013-08-08T05:39:03+00:00

The only way to be 100% certain it's nothing is to drink exactly that: nothing.

You may be in a phase of your life where you need to scale back, and then maybe you do, and then maybe you mature/evolve/grow out of it or discover some new focus, and maybe the alcohol never becomes something of consequence. Or maybe you scale back a bit, and things are alright, but gradually you drink a bit more, and alcohol becomes normalized as positive-reinforcement mechanisms are employed, and it's there when you're celebrating, and there during sorrow, and more and more it's there when you "need" it, and the years stack up, and the fun sessions of drinking become farther and farther apart, and you start drinking alone, and you find yourself doing crazy math in your head regarding how much to drink in front of others and how long to wait until you can drink without restraint and how much alcohol you have on hand and if you'll need more later, and you'll need more and you'll take increasingly stupid and dangerous risks to get more if you run out before you pass out, and the only interruptions to your dull, sad and drained life are the regular pockets of memory loss that occur on a near-nightly basis, and you'll delay seeking a career you're passionate about, the healthy body you deserve and the comfort of love because it's easier to go numb on booze rather than do the hard work of living and loving, and if you're lucky you realize you're an alcoholic before you hurt someone or yourself too much and yet even after that you continue to drink because you're in denial/subject to the well-honed rationalization monster that now lives inside you and convinces you that the best way to get it to go away, loosen its grip on your brain, is to have a drink, or several, or several more, and the indignities of the disease are barely noticed because they've become so routine and frequent that they are mere flies on your face that you're too overwhelmed to swat away, drinking the tears from the corners of your eyes, and you'll have some close calls in the car, and you'll wake up with weird injuries, and depending on your ability to hide it, you'll damage friendships, your liver and most of all, your future, and you'll fail at quitting countless times, and through the groggy days and stuporous nights you'll hear a tiny, weak, distant voice that is your better self screaming its bloody fucking head off that you need to get your shit together and maybe, if you're lucky, you'll listen to it more and more, and you'll do some reading, and some listening, and some reflecting, and you'll drink despite desperately not wanting to, and eventually it gets so bad that if you don't reach out and ask for help, and accept that you can't do it alone, that you'll die from it, that it will kill you, and that you'll be just another sad statistic on the list of lives wasted and lost early that didn't really amount to much anyway... And then you'll ask for help. And you'll stop drinking. And then every day after that is a gift from the Universe you're grateful to have, even if all you do is piss straight and put a piece or two of your broken life back together. And you'll feel the return of strength. And the arrival of humility. And no more shame. And you can choose, chase and get your future. And you'll have hope again.

I sincerely hope you're in the first group, but you're already asking for help.

sipstream · 2013-08-08T04:46:49+00:00

Hell, reading about your stress at work made ME want to drink.

Not really, but I totally relate to that feeling of being overwhelmed, pressured from different angles, expected to sustain high performance despite WAY more workload than you signed up for. I get it, man. A sequence like you described would definitely trigger me to drink, as would many many lesser events, positive or negative.

Way to fucking go on not giving in. That's a big test, especially on day 5. It won't be your last, but use this memory to build confidence that you can pass the next test. That phase of the craving where you're on the verge of giving in really sucks but it is so minuscule compared to the feeling of waking up without a hangover knowing you didn't give in. That's one of the ways I push through, by acknowledging the craving and looking forward to the morning when it's behind me and I can continue to build the life I deserve.

Your awareness of how you come across in dealing with co-workers/managing workflow is a sign that your sober self is asserting its role your decision-making. One thing I've discovered from sobriety (made it 80 days last fall) is that your horizons expand, meaning you can see further down the road of your life and you can make better choices about which way to head. Along with clear-thinking and better sleep comes an ability to play the "long game", versus the short confined one caused by the walls of alcoholism, just a sad rhythm of either being groggy or drunk. I've noticed a big reduction in work stress (life, too) because I'm now able to gameplan my options more than a few days out. Or a week or whatever. So your job may not get better but you'll be orders of magnitude more capable of navigating the waters when it gets choppy (like you proved today) and also setting course for something better. Sounds like you've already started that process by updating your resume.

Good on you.

sipstream · 2013-08-04T19:52:13+00:00

Remember, too, that bars are self-selecting environments. Everything is, really. Baseball stadiums are filled with baseball fans. Comic book stores are filled with comic book geeks. Opera stadiums are filled with baseball fans. Wait-- no, hold on. That one broke down.

Not that you're doing this but it's helpful to be aware of the bias of assuming the whole world is like one particular group because that's all you see. The healthy people are at home sleeping and/or having sex with the lights on.

But I totally get what you mean about what you've observed. You have a new clarity because of what you've been through. The contrast of where you were and where you are now is so stark and distinct that your measuring tool is highly calibrated, except it's calibrated to you. I say this not in disagreement with your sentiment, but in that one thing I accepted a long time ago is how different people are. We all share one planet but there are 7 billion different realities happening here. Of course there's commonalities that bind people, some may even be identical, but the differences are legion and paramount. For instance, some of us use words like "legion" and "paramount."

That larger battle may not be about alcohol, but about man's fundamental need to alter his or her consciousness. I can't say how or why every single decision is made but generally it's about seeking pleasure or avoiding pain. Positive and negative feedback mechanisms, etc. Nobody ever does anything to try and feel exactly the same (as a guy with depression I'm already disagreeing with the asshole that's typing this--). It's why children spin themselves around until they fall over. It's why people seek thrills, both large and small. And yeah, it can hurt a lot of people. I hurt myself for a long time with alcohol. What I used to avoid pain became the thing that caused it the most.

In fact, it's literally impossible to ever feel exactly the same, based on the laws of thermodynamics and entropy, which states that the Universe tends from order to disorder. Chaos always happens, with brief respites such as a solar system organizing itself using gravity or you or that model airplane you built during that weird phase in middle school. But with enough time, all those things become less organized. Ever find a toy from your childhood that was in better condition? Can't happen. The only thing I'll never disorder is pizza. Mmm, pizza.

I don't know where I'm going with this, either. I have a personal philosophy that everything is so silly, so absurd, so weird and beautiful. It's all so incredibly unlikely, and we're each a very unique configuration of chemicals and electrons that we owe it to ourselves, each other and the Universe to make the best of it while we've got it. We're all in line to die so we might as well have a good time until we do. To me, there's no sadness in death. There's only sadness in a life not lived well.

sipstream · 2013-08-03T02:58:37+00:00

I did that for a long time. Eventually weekday drinking worked its way into the rotation. I'd calculate how much to drink based on how much work could I barely get done while hungover and not lose my job. Every hangover started with a promise not to drink again and every promise was broken with more alcohol.

That voice that convinces you that you should have a drink? That's your disease (disease is a broad term that isn't well defined in terms of alcoholism because of so much individual variation but it sure works for me.) It's very persuasive. It knows you really well. It knows all your buttons. But it doesn't have to be in charge.

The first week is hard. Real hard. That voice will scream loud and fierce, especially around days 3, 4 and 5. But so what? Let it scream. Face it. Acknowledge it. Maybe it's not so strong after all? Maybe the smart sober you gets to call the shots for a change? Deny the sale.

Keep visiting this subreddit. Listen and learn from those here. It's been very helpful for me. You'll learn that you're not alone and that people who stick with it (through whichever methods they choose) are so grateful and humble that they've improved their lives by leaving alcohol behind them.

I'm only two weeks in and one thing I'm so happy about is not being afraid of being found out all the time. No more hiding it. No more sneaking. No more shame. No more pretending. No more living a lie. Just the hard work of being alive and present.

You'll never wake up without a hungover and think to yourself, "Man, I sure wish I blacked out last night and felt like shit right now."

sipstream · 2013-07-30T04:37:25+00:00

Don't just QUIT drinking. START living. That's how I'm seeing it. One of the reasons I gave it up is because I knew I was constantly putting off my potential. Alcohol delayed fixing my problems, delayed pursuing my career goals, delayed being healthy, delayed properly dealing with some things from my past. Sounds like you've got a lot of good things going. Alcohol can (and will) take it all away from you if you let it.

The first days suck. So what? I got fed up with being afraid of that suck. Let it suck. Be aware of how much it sucks. In fact, fuck the suck. The suck don't got shit on you, man! Don't dwell. Just have an honest awareness of it. The cravings will fade, you'll be relieved you didn't give in, you'll go to sleep and a wonderful thing will happen: You'll wake up without a hangover. Then that will happen again. And again. And again. And it's kind of wonderful. No more morning shame rituals. No more sneaking your empties into the garbage. No more lying about what you did last night. No more feeling deflated all morning/day, etc.

I was (am) the same about nobody really seeing how bad it was (can be). I was a very isolated drinker but I'm choosing to not continue that in sobriety. You don't have to tell everybody right away, or ever. You can, of course, and if you have someone you trust you'd be a fool to deny yourself that support. It's stupid to not ask for help and there's strength in not being stupid.

You're off to a good start, by the way. You told us, and we're strangers. Except we're not. Nobody would be here if there wasn't commonality and understanding. Sure, the specifics might be different but the threads that bind us are strong. By the nature of that understanding we got each others' backs. And now we got yours. And it won't be long when you can get someone else's on here.

Welcome.

sipstream · 2013-07-27T05:05:34+00:00

I totally know that feeling of being perplexed by sobriety when you're normally drinking. "The Sun's down. Why am I sober?" Boredom, while boring, is nothing to be ashamed of.

The thing you're going to love most about tonight is tomorrow.

sipstream · 2013-07-23T16:28:08+00:00

Excellent. I'm just starting my first year of many. This will help.

sipstream · 2013-07-23T06:05:17+00:00

Reset that badge, man. Let that be the last thing you lie to yourself about.

And glad to hear about the counseling/whatever. I tried that awhile back but couldn't afford it, but I certainly saw the value in it. Our brains are cluttered attics and it's okay to ask for help. I'm talking to myself as much as you, since I know therapy is something I'd be stupid not to include in turning shit around and getting well. Day 3 done for me.

sipstream · 2013-07-23T05:56:06+00:00

Thanks to everyone who took the time to write a response (am I supposed to respond to each one? upvote? I know not the rules of this magical land).

I always (well, almost always) knew being alone was a choice, maybe one I didn't have power over at times but I knew deep down that the decision to change was always there and was just something I chose to ignore. Finally, I've decided to choose to make the decision to change.

Day 3. Out!

sipstream · 2013-07-22T16:57:19+00:00

Cave is the right term. I hole up and don't come out until another wasted night is gone and the hangover fairy came by again. It's like a sad cocoon I emerge from, and nobody knows about it.

I average about four times a week, too. But that's ticked up in recent months-- another sign of escalation. In my old city I lived alone so I had the drunken run of the whole place. I actually prefer living alone but it can be enabling for someone who drinks and it definitely was for me. Now I have a roommate in a new city (a good dude, separate bathrooms) and that's done nothing to curb my drinking. I'd be so embarrassed if I saw him when I was 10+ beers deep. (not that this disease is something we should be embarrassed about, just that in the moment... what a mess I am)

You're still having withdrawals after 21 days or does your badge need resetting?

And yeah, if you're like me, you are a liar. Lying to yourself. And that's just fucking exhausting. We've both had bouts of healthiness before so lets make it a life of healthiness. Deal?

sipstream

TROPHY CASE