IX.8.22 - My New Reality And It Doesn’t Bite
This past Winter, I learned that a close friend was going into a 45-day rehab program. It was well known among our family and friends that Jeff (not his real name) liked to drink, and I always enjoyed having a few drinks with my friend because it was a guaranteed great time. But, the fun ended when my husband and I got a call from Jeff that March evening. Jeff was in crisis. We were feeling helpless, so we just listened. When we ended the call, I couldn’t help but reflect on our drinking habits. My partner was honest in that conversation, but I wasn’t. I was defensive about his suggestion that we cut back, and we argued until we went to bed.
I woke up the next day with a different takeaway from our previous argument. I had the sudden, frightening realization that I was drinking too often and too much. That was something that I couldn’t admit the night before. The truth is, I had deluded myself for a very long time. I thought about how things got out of control.
I loved white wine. I used to enjoy wine with dinner, drinks with friends, or impromptu gatherings outside with our neighbors. My behavior changed during the pandemic when I started drinking alone; it became a very comfortable daily habit. I would pour my first glass of wine between 5:00 and 6:00 pm. That familiar first sip put me at ease, and I would typically polish off 2-3 more glasses—often, the whole bottle—before settling into bed for the night. On weekends, I found myself indulging a little earlier. Is it so wrong to enjoy a glass of wine at 3:00 or 4:00 on a Saturday afternoon? My experience has taught me that when we start to rationalize what we know are bad habits, that is usually a telltale sign that there may be a more severe issue at play.
If you follow me on social media, it’s no secret that I struggled during the pandemic, specifically with online school. As a parent of young children, personal time is always a challenge, but throw in isolation and homeschooling, and it feels next to impossible to get any kind of break. Each evening, my first glass of wine started earlier and earlier until I found myself with a glass of wine in my hand at 3:00 or 4:00 pm before my partner returned home from work. Because I consumed more, mornings became more difficult because I was dozy and feeling lousy. However, my tolerance was so high that I rarely experienced a full-blown hangover. Every day felt like the movie Groundhog Day. I would tell myself that today would be different—that I would not start drinking so early, or maybe I wouldn’t drink. But when 3:00 pm rolled around, the urge to drink would build to the point that pouring a glass of wine was easier. And the cycle continued.
I’m still not exactly sure how long I was stuck in this alcohol-induced rut because it’s so hazy, but being honest with myself, I think it was close to 2.5 years. I spent twenty-nine months drowning my pain in alcohol and self-medicating to deal with my anxiety. The worst part is that I didn’t realize that I was masking my behavior for other people even though I was isolating my true self for fear of judgment or, worse, people asking me to stop drinking. The haze of isolation and self-loathing had become so routine that it felt comfortable to feel miserable.
So, back to that morning when I received the call from Jeff. It was a wake-up call because I was concerned about my drinking habits for the first time. I immediately committed to going without alcohol for 30 days. I figured that abstinence would reset my system and, after a month without alcohol, I would cut back significantly. The first couple of days were not terrible. I experienced a bit of a high because I slept better and had more energy. Generally, I felt better than I had in a long time. I didn’t miss or crave alcohol during the first ten days. However, the cravings began again when I hit the 2-week mark. I was missing wine terribly and started to doubt if I was even capable of simply cutting back. Finally, on day 17, I was pretty sure that going back to drinking, in any capacity, was not an option for me, and I decided to quit drinking altogether.
I was private about my choice to stop drinking, only confiding in my husband, parents, brother, and a select few close friends. Some people reacted differently than others. While some people seemed to understand, others were surprised. Nobody knew I had a drinking problem—I had only recently confronted the issue. So, to be fair, I understand why some people had difficulty processing my decision to end my relationship with alcohol. I noticed immediately that some of my friends became distant. I suspect some people—out of respect and sensitivity—were unsure if they should invite me to social situations centered around drinking. When I quit drinking, I discovered that most social settings involve drinking. But I am a person who likes to socialize and be around people. I didn’t want to self-isolate out of fear of being tempted or experiencing discomfort.
Eventually, I went public with my commitment to sobriety. I wrote a long post on Facebook and owned my addiction. I tried to keep the tone positive, and I was surprised when so many FB connections reached out and confided in me. Their responses provided comfort in knowing that I wasn’t alone, but I also wondered if I had misled people due to the positive tone of my posting. Perhaps, I made transitioning to sobriety look too easy even though I thought I was clear about my struggle to get to this place.
In the weeks following my Facebook post, my anxiety got increasingly worse. I suffered a severe panic attack in May and again about eight weeks later. Both incidents appeared to be nervous breakdowns to the people closest to me (and the paramedics). After a brief hospitalization, multiple doctors’ opinions, and subsequent psych appointments, I was finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder—and, in my mind, the label fits like a glove. I’ve had anxiety my whole life, but I had become accustomed to self-medicating with wine, and when I removed alcohol from the equation, I felt adrift emotionally. I won’t lie; this has been incredibly hard—one of the most challenging things I have ever experienced. But my Facebook post was genuine.
The positive changes in my life that have accompanied my sobriety have made this journey well worth the trip. At almost six months sober, I am beginning to feel more confident, knowing I will not drink alcohol again. Furthermore, my recent bipolar diagnosis reinforces that I am making the right choice to embrace a new reality and an alcohol-free lifestyle.
I hope my story will continue to inspire others—especially Jeff—who are struggling and provide a feeling of hope that redefining the role of alcohol in your life is possible.