My Last Drunk

I've had my share of setbacks and challenges throughout my life, but one of the most difficult fights I've ever had was my relationship with alcohol.

As most of the alcoholics I've met, I started drinking at a very young age. I grew up with an alcoholic father....something I was acutely aware of when I was very young. I understand that alcoholism is hereditary, but I do not, and will not, blame my father for the problems that I brought onto myself.

I spent almost exactly thirty years drinking (mostly beer) at some times very heavily, and at others (especially during pregnancies) very little to nothing at all. But the majority of my life was spent planning my next drink.

Alcohol carried me through three marriages, three divorces, many ruined friendships and multiple address changes. In fact, at one point in my life, I loaded up my car with my two older children and anything I could carry, and drove from Connecticut to Alaska. I was so lost in the disease that I somehow justified leaving my youngest son behind with his father. I had planned on bringing him too, but my ex-husband realized what I was planning and went into hiding with him until he knew that I was gone.

We spent close to four years there. As much as I loved Alaska, I felt so alone and isolated.

We moved back to New England in 2002. I thought that what I needed was to be closer to family...family to which I felt no attachment. I knew from very early on that I had a drinking problem, but in my mind, as long as I could hold a good job and provide for my kids, I was doing alright.

It never occurred to me how much damage I could've been doing to the kids. The only thing that mattered was that I was able to drink when I wanted and where I wanted. These poor kids couldn't even go to a Friendly's for a meal with me because they didn't serve alcohol. We could only eat out if the establishment served beer or wine.

I met a wonderful man in January of 2005; we hit it off right from the start. I was getting very crafty with my drinking habits after I met him. I couldn't let him know exactly how much I drank.

At that point in my life, there were very few times when I actually got drunk. I took so many different medications at the end of each day and washed them down with a 12 pack of beer (at the least)...just to be able to sleep. Then I would have a glass of water, with a 1 Mg Xanax sitting on my nightstand, ready for me to take as soon as I woke up in the morning.

What I didn't know at the time was that I was experiencing the DT's, not having anxiety attacks, when I woke up every morning. There was a very high level of anxiety at all times, but only until I got my hands on a beer after work.

In order to hide my heavy drinking from my boyfriend, I would only sleep at his house on Saturday nights and sometimes Wednesdays. He knew that I liked Chardonnay, so he would always have a bottle in the fridge for me. Unlike beer, I was able to get drunk from wine rather easily. So when I spent the night I would drink three or four beers with him, then strategically take my pills and have a couple of glasses of wine to make it look like I was just getting tired (naturally), then I would just crash! I still can't believe the amount of work I put into this whole drinking habit of mine.

The nights that I did not sleep over, I let him know that if he did not call me before 8:00 PM, I probably wouldn't talk to him until the next day. He always teased me by calling me granny...couldn't understand why a woman as young as I was needed so much sleep!

There were a few times when we went to special functions and I drank far too much. Each of those times I recall him expressing some concern, the following morning, about how much alcohol I had consumed. But then I'd behave until the next social event. Thankfully we weren't the type of people to go out all that much. I honestly don't believe that this man would be in my life right now if he knew (at the time) what a drunk I was.

On July 25, 2006 he and his son invited me to go to Northern New Hampshire for a night. I accepted the invitation, but regretted it the minute we set out in his truck. It was a very long drive, after which we just rode around from ponds, to lakes, and streams, so they could fish and do some target shooting.

I only had my 1 Xanax for the morning with me and the "anxiety" was really setting in. We left his house at 8 AM and by 4:00 PM I was in panic mode. He kept trying to get me to talk about what was wrong....I COULDN'T! I couldn't tell this man that I needed a drink...that I felt like I was going to die if I didn't get a whole lot of alcohol in my system soon. Hell, I couldn't even admit it to myself yet at that point.

On the way to our cottage, he stopped at a store to pick up some stuff for breakfast the next morning. He told me he was getting some beer and asked if I wanted some wine too. I knew he was only going to buy a 12 pack of beer, so knowing that he doesn't like Corona, I asked him to get me a 6 pack of that, along with the Chardonnay. He looked at me a little oddly, shrugged his shoulders and just went into the store and bought it ALL.

I finished the 6 pack of beer before we even went to dinner, then knowing full well, that I had a whole bottle of wine waiting for me at the cottage, I still proceeded to order 3 glasses of Chardonnay at dinner. When we got back to our room I polished off the wine and drank most of his beer on him...I WAS PLASTERED!

I came to (not woke up) the next morning to the sound of the guys making breakfast in the kitchen. The smell of the food was making me ill. He forced me to get up and try to eat something before we headed home, but the best I could do was pop that Xanax into my system and wait for the panic to subside.

I sat almost coma like in his truck all the way back. When we got to his house, he was extremely concerned and was pleading with me to stay the night. I couldn't...I transferred my stuff from his truck to my car and drove home as fast as I could.

I got home at about 1:30 in the afternoon. I was living with my daughter, her fiancée and my one year old granddaughter at the time. By three O'clock I had already finished a 12 pack and had sent my daughter's fiancée to the store to buy me more beer. I wanted to be numb, but no matter how much I drank, I couldn't shut down my mind.

I have a sister who is in Alcoholics Anonymous, we were never close...not even when we were children, but I didn't know where else to turn. I was sitting at my kitchen table, tears pouring out of my eyes and begging my daughter (the one who had put up with this disease all of her life) to help me.

She handed me the phone and told me to call Cheri "my sister." I started arguing with her because I really didn't think Cheri wanted anything to do with me anymore. She had her life together; she didn't need to be taking care of her older sister. That was how I found out I had a Higher Power, something I knew nothing about at the time. My daughter calmed me down enough to explain that Cheri had called her "THAT VERY MORNING" and told her that if I asked (and only if I asked) for help, to have me call her.I called Cheri at 6:30 PM on Wednesday, July 26, 2006, and I have been sober ever since.