Day 30 — Again but different.

Hello lovely sober blog friends.  I’ve been putting off writing this and making my comeback until I had gained some time, because frankly, I was sick of reading my own writing when I was so consistently wishy-washy about whether I actually had a problem, etc.

So here’s what happened — the short version, since it’s late but I wanted to write SOMETHING to commemorate today!  After my last sober stint in January, I only made it to day 32 — and I then drank at a leadership retreat I was on, despite having the best intentions prior to going.  From then until 30 days ago, I lived in that on-again, off-again, mostly on place where I went from thinking it was no problem, to a big problem, and so on.  In the meantime, my husband and I went through our first round of IVF.  So I did have some sober time while that was going on — at least while the hormone injections were happening.  And then, the IVF failed and we were told that I have a rare condition with my eggs making them extremely unlikely to ever be able to be fertilized.  We got grim statistics — if we tried another round of IVF (with another $20,000 price tag), we would have about a 1 out of 1,000 chance of it working.  That’s 0.001%.  99.99% likely to fail.  And this condition explains why I’ve likely never gotten pregnant.

This came as bad news, obviously.  I went into a deep depression for a while, then I would have days where I felt relief just to have an answer, but then another friend would turn up pregnant after only trying for a couple months and I’d lose it.  One particularly unexpected one of these friends-turning-up pregnant situations happened in early April, and it threw me way down the rabbit hole.  I felt totally unworthy — of my husband, of womanhood, of love.  My drinking escalated to places it hadn’t gone before — drinking vodka when my husband was out of the room, hiding wine, the whole thing.  I would drink and cry and offer to divorce him so that he could marry someone who could give him a child (meanwhile, he has been 100% supportive and was shocked to hear me talking like that.)  I disintegrated into being totally pathetic and started having suicidal thoughts.  One morning was particularly bad and I just knew I had had enough and that if I didn’t get help IN PERSON, I would never be able to do this.

So that was really the first time I’d ever surrendered to this thing.  I no longer wonder if I’m an alcoholic — I definitely am.  I feel totally liberated by this realization.  After one awful night of feeling like I was in the depths of despair, I woke up the next day and methodically reached out.  I made appointments to see a psychiatrist, a chemical dependency counselor, and my doctor.  I messaged the one and only old friend I have who I know is sober, and asked her to take me to a meeting.  I NEVER thought I’d set foot in one, but when I met with my friend and went to my first one, I left with a sense of peace and hope that I’ve not had this whole past year and a half.  I’ve continued to go to two or three meetings a week, I exchanged phone numbers with three new, sober friends, and I’ve been seeing my counselor every week.

These things are working for me.  I have accountability now — this sober blog is also good, but it’s not accountability because it’s anonymous and I can just hide.  Or at least I think I can… just today I received a comment out of the blue from someone who says they have been checking my site, hoping for an update.  So, here’s my update, with a huge side of gratitude that someone noticed, someone cared about my story.  There were some rough seas, but now I’m solidly 30 days back at it, and the in person accountability has added a whole new dimension and peace to this decision to be sober.  It’s just the way it has to be and I’m not going to argue with myself anymore.

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