i was really triggered all over the place on this week's business trip. to be and feel safe, do i have to shutter myself in my house, living my life out as a hermit? (at least the frizzy hair wouldn't be an issue!)
most of you know i work for my brother, who believes that a moment without food is like human life without oxygen. each meal has to be a gourmet feast, and in between we stop at starbucks for lattes -- about 3 times a day.
we were in the south, and the food is heavy, heavy, heavy. even the water seems fried. the towns were adorable. i loved the shops and quaint restaurants over-looking the water or sitting in some historic building.
but there was just too much food. and my brother is, shall we say, loquacious. so meal times get exquisitely boring.
in the old days, wine was the answer. i'd drink it to numb out and phase out my brother's voice.
trigger alert, here, for recovering drinkers. i'm about to linger too long on my beverage of choice
Wine then kept me from eating a lot. in between bites, i'd linger long on the deep red river in my glass. i loved the look of the stem and the feel of the glass...can you tell i loved me my wine?
this was a hard week. one morning, i stopped taking my antabuse, the drug i take to keep from drinking. until then, i hadn't even considered missing a pill since i stopped drinking may 12.
without the antabuse,i started a romance in my head. the antabuse would be out of my system by about saturday. saturday, i was supposed to have coffee with a new friend. yum, wouldn't it be nice to meet for a drink, a real drink instead? and then i could see my friend joan and have a drink. she was a drinking buddy. on fridays we'd go to a favorite bar and drink wine and nibble salads. she'd flirt with the bartendars; i'd relax. i haven't seen joan since june -- we don't really have all that much in common when i'm sober. i feel guilty, but i'm trying to protect myself.
oh the dreams went on. as i sipped my third diet coke at dinner, i comforted myself knowing that on Saturday, i would have wine. on the plane, i smiled thinking about our NEXT business trip, when i'd amuse myself with cabernet as the plane ride unfolded.
what was i thinking? finally, i decided to reach out to my therapist. my brother and i were about to board a plane -- i didn't have time to call her privately. i had so much to say, so i whipped out my computer. i couldnt' connect to the internet (although my brother had no problem with his). finally, i connected and wrote the email with seconds to spare.
i texted her too even though we were supposed to turn our phones off the plane. I told her that i didn't want to be secretive, so i was confessing, but i wasn't sure what i wanted to do.
it was very important that i told her but that i realized this is my decision. in the past, if i "confessed", it always meant that i was ready to stop drinking or drugging or restricting or whatever other unfortunate behavior i act out.
but this time, i figured out that the choice is MINE, the decision is MINE. wow, that felt good.
then i took the antabuse.