Tag: stop drinking

Trying to Quit Drinking? Giving Yourself Permission May Help

Posted on October 18, 2019January 21, 2020 by Lisa

Giving yourself permission to drink could be the beginning of understanding why you drink, and how you might go about better controlling your consumption. Let me explain.

Several years ago, when I was drinking regularly, there is one particular memory which I’ve drawn on for understanding in sobriety. I was about to go out of town, so I had a lot of work to do, but I was also very stressed and wanted to drink. I just couldn’t do it right then though; I had too much to do, so I had to put it off. What I did next, is very important.

I went to the liquor store anyway, right then, even though I knew I wouldn’t drink my purchase until much later. I did that because I knew that if I secured alcohol now, and gave myself permission to use it later, I would get some relief from the obsessive thoughts and restlessness, which were driving me crazy now.

Planning my drinking was like a sigh of relief, and here’s why.

When you make the decision to drink — even if it’s not going to be until later — you get a reprieve from craving. Obsessive thoughts, restlessness, and discontent are all symptoms of craving. And craving is caused by dopamine.

Dopamine comes from the part of the brain that has latched onto alcohol. This part of the brain is interested in maintaining habit formation, and it’s very powerful.

Dopamine has a really strong motivational aspect as well. In fact, dopamine is as much about getting alcohol, as it is about drinking it. I explain this a little more in detail in another post, and you can read it here. And that’s why we feel a little hint of relief when we mentally allow ourselves to do it, even if we’re not going to indulge until later.

I call this putting off “intentional procrastination”, and it’s an enlightening experience for sobriety, when you can become aware of it. Here’s what’s going on when we feel this.

“Intentional Procrastination” appeases both parts of the brain.

When we put off drinking, we’re appeasing that part of our brain/selves that wants to drink now, which is triggering the craving. We’re basically saying, “you’re gonna get it, just not right now, but later, so relax.” And it does relax. It stops dopamine, for the moment. (The key is, of course, to stop it for good.)

As I’ve discussed in other articles (The Two Wolves Within, July 12, 2019), we have two parts to our brains regarding drinking. One part of us wants – needs – to drink. This is the part of the brain that triggers craving chemicals, dopamine most notably, making us obsess about alcohol and feeling restless until we get it. This part of the brain has no concept of future or past. It is only present moment awareness. And while it urges us to drink now, making the decision to do it later appeases it temporarily.

The other part of the brain/selves is our logical side that doesn’t want to drink. This is the part of us that “knows better”. This part of us knows drinking isn’t a good idea, it’s a temporary fix, it’s a problem, and we need to stop. This is the part of the brain that does have a concept of future consequences and past negative memories. And because it knows drinking isn’t the best plan, it’s all about putting it off. Voila, you’ve satisfied both; for now.

And this is the part of ourselves we want to cultivate and tap into more often, right? It’s the struggle between these two very different parts of us that we find ourselves in every day. And which one speaks the loudest is the one who wins. I addressed this at length in this article.

Try it for yourself — procrastination you can feel good about!

I know I’m not unique and many drinkers have experienced the urge to drink when they can’t. We want to drink, we need to drink, but we can’t right at the moment the urge hits us. Maybe we’re at work, or we have an important meeting, a court appearance, or we’re driving; it’s just not possible right away, so we’ve all put it off in situations like this.

The problem is that maybe you’ve never done it intentionally just to see how it feels. Have you ever really realized how you feel the minute you decide to put it off, and/or have secured the alcohol for later?

You get a reprieve, and this is something to become aware of . . . and use to your benefit.

Take my “Intentional Procrastination Challenge”

Notice, I’m not telling you to quit drinking. I’m not even suggesting you don’t drink today, but if you haven’t already started drinking (if you have, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow or when you sober up), just try it.

Intentionally procrastinate drinking today, and see how it feels. Secure the drink, if you need to, and give yourself a time in the future when you’ll drink it. Giving yourself permission to drink is, in itself, a refreshing change — not trying to white knuckle it until you simply cave in.

Tell yourself, “you’re gonna get it, just not right now, but later, so relax.” And see how that feels. Just play around with it, what do ya have to lose?

See if you can feel the internal sigh of relief, a slight sense of security.

When we get both of these parts of our brains on the same page, this not-drinking gig gets much easier, but until then, it can be quite problematic. In fact, that is the immediate problem with relapse or with drinking every day, right? If we could just do what that one part of us who “knows better” wants, we’d be okay, right?

It is possible to get both sides of your brain on the same page for good, and when you do, not drinking no longer feels like non-stop resistance. And this relief issue, after making the decision to put it off, is an important key for understanding.

When we intentionally procrastinate drinking, when we give ourselves permission to do it later, we free something up inside, but we have to try to become aware of that freedom to work with it. Knowing what it is, and where it’s coming from, can help us learn to use it to our benefit.

I can help you with that too, but first things first. Take my challenge!

Is Alcoholism a Matter of Will Power?

Posted on September 13, 2019August 12, 2019 by Lisa

During my long, dark road to sobriety, I tried many things to control my drinking. My first attempts were geared toward harnessing willpower.

Many seemed to believe that quitting drinking was similar to stopping smoking–just a question of being strong-willed enough, right? Just make up your mind to do it and do it.

Okay. So, it was time to set a goal: either stop completely, or cut waaay back.

I wrote a contract for myself and signed it. It was official. I wrote it, signed it, and promised myself that I would not drink.

Tactics like that would work for a week or so, but when they stopped working, I would revise them to read “drink only two glasses” or “only two glasses after 5:00 pm” or “only beer”.

Needless to say, I didn’t keep those promises to myself either.

So even though I didn’t stop drinking, I didn’t let myself get off easy. When I failed to meet my promises, I implemented harsh punishments. Here is my list of penances (a throw back to my Catholic upbringing):

Drink only water for five days; no tea, coffee, soft drinks, etc.
And no “treats” – sweets or pleasurable food for five days;
No socializing with friends/family for five days;
No sex or intimacy for five days;
Only work, clean, exercise, and journal for five days;
And, of course, NO ALCOHOL.

My commitment lasted for a while, but soon I was back at it. It was a familiar refrain that was repeated several times. I was at my wit’s end. Time to turn to try something different.

Maybe hypnosis is the answer

My mother-in-law had quit smoking through hypnosis, so why not try it? I went to a professional hypnotherapist for six sessions.

Each time, with my eyes closed and my body relaxed, she would describe disgusting images surrounding alcohol, trying to connect negative associations.

Moldy wine grapes, with flies swarming around them and oozing smelly rotten juice.

The acrid taste of bile, acid, and alcohol in the mouth from vomiting.

The fowl odor of beer, vomit, and diarrhea.

A vision of me outside in the middle of the night in the cold, puking over the deck so my children and husband couldn’t hear me in the bathroom.

Every hair follicle on my head hurting with an excruciating pounding headache.

Or the gag-inducing texture of chewed food in your throat from throwing up after drinking too much.

She would record these descriptions and I took them home with me. I fell asleep listening to them every night for a while. That was effective. Temporarily.

Counseling, Religion, and Alcoholics Anonymous

It shouldn’t be surprising that I tried counseling. Did I ever get counseling! To date, just off the top of my head, 12 professionals over the course of 20 plus years.

Religious counselors, secular counselors, Cognitive Behavior Therapists, AA therapists, addiction specialists, EMDR, Regression therapy, schema therapy–you name it, I’ve tried it.

Some have been a waste of time, some have been effective for some things; and finally, fortunately, one was enlightening. We’ll get to that.

As far as religion goes, I was raised Catholic and now consider myself in religious “recovery”, thank you very much, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I did get counseling from a Methodist minister once whom I liked very much (though it didn’t keep me from drinking).

And I’ve frequented a contemporary Christian mega-church where I was baptized (again), in an effort to stop drinking.

My personal favorite is a non-denominational church that teaches positive universal spiritual principles.

However, in the end, it has not mattered one bit if or where I worship. Religion is not the answer for me and drinking. Period.

And as far as Alcoholics Anonymous is concerned, I’ve had a love-hate relationship with it. AA is woven throughout the fabric of my recovery, mostly because it was the only structured treatment option available to me.

All of these attempts to stop drinking have one thing in common – will. But our will isn’t the issue. In my experience, even alcoholics exercise positive will over other areas in their lives. They can be disciplined when they need to be, therefore, there’s more to alcoholism than self-will. What more that is, I did not discover until much later.

Alone Time can be an Alcoholic’s Best (or worst) Time

Posted on August 30, 2019March 29, 2020 by Lisa

I recently spent an entire weekend alone. My fiance went out of town, and I chose not to go, with the intention of getting a lot of writing done. This is the first time I’ve spent this much time at home alone since I’d quit drinking. And I’ll admit, I was a little concerned.

Drinking alone was what I did regularly in the last several years of my drinking experience, because drinking in the company of others had become too contentious, inexplicable, and embarrassing. Plus I was supposed to be working on that problem, right?
But when I was alone, the voices started:

The unrelenting voices in the head:

No one’s here. Perfect! No one will know.
You’ll be more relaxed and patient when they get home.
This is just who you are. This is what you do.
We’ll quit tomorrow.

See how this used to go? I realize now, in retrospect, that I had been steadily and unconsciously establishing a life to facilitate that drinking alone goal. Got the kids to almost 18 alive, got divorced, and created a situation where I could drink whenever I wanted.

A part of me thought I would be perfectly happy being a lone drunk.

Perfect. This is what I had been waiting for was it not? I fantasized about this when I lived among people who needed me or triggered me. This is what I’d dreamed of secretly, but another part of me wasn’t completely happy with this arrangement.

I was a drunk. And I knew in my heart of hearts that there was more to me, and that there should be more to life.

But I wasn’t perfectly content, so now what?

Fast-forward, and obviously I’ve learned the trick to quitting the drinking thing, but what about this being with myself situation?

I didn’t know what to do with myself when I was sober. Especially when I was alone. When I was alone was really when I struggled the most with myself.

Social settings gave me plenty of anxiety, don’t get me wrong, but there were also distractions with others which seemed to help.

I could focus on the conversations, ask a lot of questions, and listen. Plus there were plenty of suggestions from recovery experts for how to handle common social situations, with regards to drinking, so I struggled a little less with what to do with myself.

I don’t think I like myself. Are we supposed to?

Not only did I not know myself, I didn’t particularly want to be alone with me. I wasn’t very pleasant. Other people seemed to like me okay, but they didn’t have to live in my head 24/7/365. It was no picnic in there. In fact, sometimes it was toxic.

The constant thoughts of:

There’s something fundamentally wrong with me.
I’m a fraud, or at the very least a chameleon who changes to suit the situation/person.
I’m not truly a good person/sister/daughter/mother/mate, and when they find out, they’re not going to stay with/accept me.
It’s just a matter of time before the other shoe drops.

These ruminations when I was alone and unoccupied were constant, and for no reason, they just seemed to pop up.

My brain supplied plenty of proof to validate every negative thought too. Remember when . . .

I’ll recall something from the past when I did something stupid or embarrassing, and the feelings from it are just like I’m back there.
How could you have been so careless, hurtful, stupid, etc.?
If only you would have done X instead.
I wonder if so-and-so still remembers that?
Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, . . . if you have a brain like mine, you know the etc. part.

The other thing I do a lot of is comparisons with other people, even when I’m not in their presence.

Out of the blue, I’ll have a thought about so-and-so, which triggers the comparison thoughts.

Comparison thoughts are so big for me, I’ve written a separate article about it here. But the gist is that I rarely measure up.

So, when I used to be alone, bombarded with all these random negative thoughts, some sneaky ideas would come into my head, such as:

You could have a drink.
That would feel better.
No one’s here. No one will know. This is perfect!

Wherever I go, there I am.

What I’ve learned is that choosing to drink speaks to my inability or unwillingness to be with myself sober. And that will always be a problem because wherever I go, there I am, and it’s not feasible to be drunk all the time. (Believe me, I tried it.)

So the way I see it, the only option I have is to create a different version of myself.

There is the belief that you need a group or support network, like AA, to stay sober. And while I do think AA/12-Steps does a great job with the connection thing, I know that ultimately it comes down to me, myself and I, and what I do when I’m alone.

I have to be able to be alone with myself – preferably content and sober, because I’ve spent the better part of my adult life unhappy and drunk. And I don’t like her.

I liken my relationship with my sober self to a budding intimate relationship.

It is, after all the most intimate and personal relationship I have, is it not? Who else knows all my thoughts — good and bad? Who else has as much to lose or gain? Who am I listening to 24/7/365? See what I mean.

So, at first we were just “talking”. We have a lot in common. Then, we started getting to know one another better — the good and the bad. The “shadow self” as it’s been called by some.

And now, while we don’t always get along very well, we’re trying. We try to compromise, empathize, and offer a little grace, because life is tough. It’s hard to be human!

Very often, unfortunately, we are at odds, and when we are, I’m very hard on myself, as we all are. Everyone seems to think that because we know better, we should do better.
But knowing and doing are two very different states.

We are ultimately on the same side — me, myself, and I; it just doesn’t usually feel like it.

But we have gotten on the same page with this drinking thing, and we’ve nailed it! We lost some battles over the years, but now we’re winning the war, and it feels good. It feels empowering. It feels like agency for myself; like I can take action and I can change things.

I feel confident, to be alone with myself, for the first time in my life that I remember. I can talk myself down and lift myself up. I can catch myself going sideways, and get back on course.

I don’t love myself yet, but I’m open to liking myself until a time when I might. This is my sober self, a work in progress, and worth the work, most days. What other choice do I have?

There is a sober self in every drunk.

It was finding my sober self which saved my life from alcohol. And cultivating my sober self is saving me from myself. Does that make sense?

I believe there is a sober self in every drunk, when the effort is taken to find him or her.

The weekend alone went off without a hitch. I did the same things I do when my fiancé is home. I did what people do when their minds aren’t obsessing about the next drink; when they aren’t manipulating and planning; when they aren’t hiding, hurting, and hating themselves, then passing out.

I got a lot of writing done – like this piece. (And I want to write something cheesy, like I got to know myself better, but that sounds so melo-dramatic.) Let’s just say I was alone with myself and content enough; not perfect but typically human, and sober.

First 30 Days – Why we Feel so Bad

Posted on July 19, 2019August 21, 2019 by Lisa

5 minute read

I guess it goes without saying that stopping drinking is hard. Really hard. Obviously. That’s why a lot of us don’t do it even when we know we need to.

Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow. Today isn’t the day. I just can’t today.

Monday. I’ll do it Monday. New week. New start. I’ll quit Monday, after this weekend.

Next month. I’ll do it next month. Day one will be my first day. I’ll quit then. I’m committed.

After my birthday. It’s time. I have to get a handle on this, so the day after my birthday, I’ll quit. I’ll give myself the best birthday gift that I can. This is going to be the year!

After the holidays. New year. New start. Perfect. I’ll quit for good January 1.

Sound familiar? This was me for many consecutive years – around 20, to be honest. And with each commitment, I honestly meant it.

There was a part of me who really wanted to quit, and a part of me who didn’t.

But I couldn’t, at least not long term, and so I went into several rehabs over the years. (You can read a little about this here.)

It sounds obvious, but the thing I dreaded most about going into rehab, was not drinking, especially for the first several days. Why do we feel so bad? Alcoholics Anonymous describes your state of mind as “restless, irritable, and discontented.” They sure got that right, but times ten for me, or so it felt.

How I hate the feeling of those first days not drinking.

Don’t you? Relentless edginess or an absolute lack of interest in anything – either one is equally miserable in my book.

For me, it went one of two ways – either (A) lacking interest, void of energy, and utter boredom even though I had plenty of distractions.

Nothing to look forward to. If this is sobriety, you can have it!

There’s a reason we feel either relentlessly bored or anxiously aggravated, so read on.

How can you feel both bored and anxious at the same time?

Or the other alternative, (B) jittery, tense and anxious with bouts of agitation verging on anger, punctuated by impatience and extreme irritation. Yep, that pretty much covers it. UGH! Do I want (A) or (B)? Neither.

Nothing feels good.

Such a bad place to be. And just a drink or two would do the trick. Seems like such a simple thing, just one or two.

And as you may know by now, giving into it only strengthens it. It is a fix, I understand that, but it’s temporary, and it means tomorrow, or later, you have the very same situation you have right now.

The problem is that, at the time, I didn’t care about later. I only cared about how I felt now.

Pursuing that type of short-term gratification is a common problem as a person addicted to alcohol. (There’s s good reason for that, but that’s another article topic.)

So, if you’re anything like me, long-term gratification isn’t always foremost in your mind. Sometimes it was, and in some areas of my life, but not with this, and it was very confusing and frustrating.

So, I got curious about my misery while in the last rehab. What’s really happening? I found out, and for some reason, just knowing what was going on inside my brain and body was enough to just barely tolerate it until it went away.

Why can’t we just go from drunk to sober without feeling like crap?

The short and simplified answer is this: the brain needs homeostasis–stability, balance, equilibrium. And that’s good. It keeps us alive. Body temperature is a good example. If it weren’t for the checks and balances our brains use to keep our body temperature at a fairly steady 98.6 degrees F, organs would be failing right and left, and we never would have made it out of our cave phase.

And while I’m generally glad we have this mechanism in place, when it comes to drinking, it’s not so great. In the trying-not-to-drink-scenario, it’s a serious deterrent to stopping drinking, because we feel so crappy at first.

Our body obviously gets out of homeostasis when we suddenly stop drinking, and it does, unfortunately, take a little time to come back to normal. And, unfortunately again, we can’t skip this part. If we could go straight to feeling okay, we’d do it, no problem. Right?

Your happiness set point needs time to readjust itself.

Back to homeostasis. It’s not immediate. A delicate balance takes a little time to achieve.

In a nutshell, what’s going on is that your capacity to feel happiness – joy, pleasure, or anything good, for that matter, needs to be reset. What used to make you feel good doesn’t right now because that set point was jacked up with alcohol use. Because you’ve most likely been getting a lot of feeling-good chemicals artificially, by using alcohol, and then you’re suddenly not, your mood plummets.

It will reset. It just takes time. So, this is you in the first days without alcohol.

It’s not pleasant, but it’s not permanent.

How long does it take? I think, for me it was probably at around the 15th+ day mark, maybe less. What did I do? Well, I’d like to say I had a secret magic pill. But I didn’t. I hated every minute of it. I just kept thinking, at least now I know the reason for it. It’s temporary. Hurry up brain chemistry – do your thing!

If you’re here now, please don’t give up, because you’re convinced there’s something wrong with you or this is your personality.

You can do this! If I can do it, you can. I am a normal, average person terribly addicted to alcohol for years. I am nothing special. I am no different than you. We are normal human beings having a normal experience.

I could not imagine happiness was possible, when I was experiencing such a dismal beginning to sobriety. And I gave up often over the years, but eventually, I made myself just push through the doubt.

Your brain will change, you just have to ride it out. Try to realize it’s just your brain resetting your happiness point.

It will, and you will feel different and better soon. Please ride it out! Don’t give up now! This is the hardest part. Trust me.

The Beginning of the End

Posted on July 5, 2019August 22, 2019 by Lisa

Some people believe the addicted are weak. Little do such people realize how strong we must actually be. I know we are braver than even we believe, and more resilient than anyone could begin to imagine. For it is impossible to fathom the incredible strength and character required to be knocked down by your own hand; then get up and face “the enemy” in the mirror again, and again. Day after day . . . until you finally get yourself out of that perpetual self-defeating cycle.

You, my friend, are braver than you believe and stronger than you know.

For most, drinking is pleasant. For many, it becomes a conditioned and sub-conscious habit or association which gets carried away and derails them for a time. But for me, drinking was something much different.

It felt like security, and I don’t know how else to describe it. There were even times it felt like emotional survival. I couldn’t explain it then, but now, it’s very clear. There was a safeness–a surety–it gave me, which was lacking in myself.

I didn’t just look forward to it; I obsessed about it. Not only did I plan my next drink, I knew the minute I was awake when I was going to feel more at ease with myself–and it couldn’t come soon enough. Once upon a time, I did reward myself with it; but by the time I’d gotten past the first failed rehab, I required it. I didn’t know another way.

Some drinkers know alcohol’s secret power, and we hide that truth with our other secrets.

It didn’t even scratch the surface to say I was “taking the edge off” or “relaxing” or using it as “social lubrication” as some people describe it. The fact that alcohol was so profoundly important to me was another secret to keep to myself. I was ashamed of it.

Drinking felt almost like survival

Look, I had long since departed from the realm of a nice buzz, ok? This was far and away a much more insidious need, with years of pain behind it. So much so that I – like many others – inexplicably, incrementally, and oh so reluctantly put alcohol before everything else. Even though, somewhere in our heart of hearts, we know better – and we want better. We just can’t access that part of us.

At one point or another, some of us put it before our marriages and children, our careers, our health, our safety, our self-respect – everything! Sex, food, personal care/safety – the basic foundations of existence for normal humans, become what feels like a matter of survival, almost, for some. And that was me.

So now for the “highlights” of the rest of my drinking days. If you’ve read the blogs before in this section, you can guess much of what life was like. I don’t feel the need to go into a great deal of detail, but suffice it to say that often it was hell for me, and I’ve no doubt, for those around me.

A dubious list of shame, and only me to blame.

After the first rehab debacle, I went back to Continuing Education – another thirty days on my own dime, this time. (Remember, I told you I’m a slow learner.) I was sober for a few months. Then not.
Consequently, my husband of twenty-two years lost all hope and gave up on me.
My parents/family were bewildered and exasperated. I appeared to be a lost cause.
I wrecked four vehicles, (fortunately, no one was ever injured), and was charged with DUI.
Because of the DUI, I did a brief stint in county jail (read that scintillating story here ) Quite the experience for a sheltered housewife.
I tried SMART Recovery online – Cognitive Behavioral Therapy Program for addiction. Was sober for a few months. Then not.
Consequently, I wound up in ER one night with “lethal amount of alcohol” in my system.

Stayed drunk off/on for a few more years.
Wound up in the ER with broken ribs – don’t ask. Kept drinking.
I got another DUI.
Because of that, I halfheartedly attempted suicide trying to fix my problem.
As a result, I spent four days in a psych ward.
Went into a mandatory Twelve-Step Intensive Outpatient Program. I was sober for a while, using monthly injections of Vivitrol until Insurance quit paying for it.
I was drunk off/on again for a couple more years.
Finally, I went into the last rehab, where I learned something that began what I now call my personal paradigm shift. This was by no means over, but it was the beginning of the end of this shit-show. You can read what happened there to turn this upside down for me here .

It has indeed been a long, miserably difficult, dirt road.

Somewhere, somehow, I still had hope. Deep inside me, I knew there had to be more to me than this person everyone saw. On the other side of drunk was someone healthy, whole, and happy – I just knew it. We’re all born that way, after all. Aren’t we?

It’s difficult to describe how I felt through all of this. Frustration and fear? Yes.

Embarrassment and shame? Check.

Pain? Yes. A type of pain that you will either understand because you’ve felt it, or you never could. And if you’ve not quit reading yet, you might get it.

Those like me are carrying an inconceivably heavy burden. And we’ve been carrying it our entire lives. We believe it is, indeed, us – because we’ve never been separate from it. An ancient wound we seem to have been born with. It is a part of our personal fabric – who we are.

And so we try to relieve it with alcohol. It almost works for a while, and it’s hard to quit something that almost works.

And we’ll continue until we get to the real problem. Or die with it. Because this feeling was there BEFORE we started drinking. The drink just covered it up, alleviating it briefly.

Deep down, the pain of

not being good enough,
or not fitting in,
not being wanted, accepted, or valued as we are,
feeling like something’s inherently wrong with us deep down,
and/or vague and persistent emptiness

This feeling is so familiar, and so pervasive, it’s just who we think we are. It has always been there. Read on, friend. I found a way out of that feeling and out of the alcohol cycle. Let me be your guide, we’ll hike this trail together.

Signs of Alcoholism

Posted on June 14, 2019August 12, 2019 by Lisa

I remember the first time I started seeing signs of alcoholism. I was around 30 years old, maybe younger. I’d been a “social” drinker for 10 years or so, but there were some tale-tell signs that I may be an over-achiever.

Personality changes –Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde-type stuff. Uncharacteristic and inappropriate anger rising to the surface, and what I like to call “drunk mouth”. That would be obnoxious or inappropriate things I wouldn’t normally say or do, especially in public.

Embarrassment and sincere apologies all around the next morning, and swearing off alcohol – good to go, right?

Of course (in retrospect), a few weeks later – same damn thing!

I tried to curb or quit all together, but I just never seemed to be able to do it for very long. Since it wasn’t every time I drank that I got stupid-drunk, those intermittent episodes were easier to ignore for quite a while.

Everyone drank too much sometimes, right? It’s in movies, I saw it in family and friends, and even my husband from time to time drank a little too much.

Yeah, but this became too much and too often to ignore. There was a family history to consider too. So, my husband and I talked it over, and we addressed it now – as a problem – but just between us.

Science of the 90’s

No big deal, I was a smart girl, and I looked to science for help – new science, or pseudoscience (as it’s often called).

I first turned to science in the early ’90’s

Anthony Robbins had come on the scene with the Neuro-linguistic Programming concept of changing your life through self-talk and modeling other successful people.

I read Awaken The Giant Within, and started trying to change my drinking habits on my own.

I had a little success, but still wasn’t getting to the root of the problem.

Soon the pattern emerged more regularly: drinking, sometimes getting sick from it, and regular hangovers; swearing off, followed by intermittent periods of sobriety; then drinking again, getting sick and hungover, swearing off; repeat.

You get the picture? You’ve lived the picture, if you’re still reading this, right?

Why did I need to drink?

While I’d always had some issues with self-confidence and feelings of inadequacy, I was now happily married and starting a family. Shouldn’t I be more content? More mature and responsible?

What was wrong with me?

I really and truly tried to quit drinking, but it didn’t help that alcohol was a part of almost every activity. I was raised Catholic, and I don’t know if you know this, but Catholics drink if the sun comes up.

Living in a drinking culture, it really is acceptable – even expected – almost everywhere, at least in my life. Most influences (my family and friends) believed this was a will power issue, so I buckled down and tried to muster some.

Some things I tried to quit drinking

• Hypnosis;

• Self-imposed contracts and punishment;

• AA Meetings on/off;

• Counseling;

• First this church, then that one;

While I often made some progress with each measure, it was punctuated by frequent drinking episodes. And while I remained sober during pregnancies (three children within four years), this pattern continued into my early forties.

You cannot know this internal frustration and shame unless you have felt it for yourself. Am I right?

To wake up – either in the middle of the night or the next day – and realize that you had done it again! What was wrong with me?

This was not normal or logical!

Why did I keep doing this? My true happiness and personal security in life cannot come from a bottle. I couldn’t keep living this way.

Yet I did live like that, for a long time. I had to find the reason I needed to drink, but I wouldn’t for many more years. And it can only get worse or remain the same; neither was acceptable.

You cannot know this internal frustration and shame unless you’ve felt it yourself.

How do you know you have a drinking problem?

You google “Am I an alcoholic?” or ” “How to stop or slow down drinking?” ” and wind up on sites like this.
Once you start drinking, you really find it difficult to stop or slow down.
A lot of your time is spent thinking about and planning drinking.
Once you start drinking, even though you said you weren’t going to drink much, you worry about your supply running out and/or go get more.
You’re ashamed of your drinking and rationalize it often.
The people who know you best are concerned, and you feel defensive talking about it.
You sometimes hide how much you drink.

Experts now say for women, more than three 5-oz drinks per day or seven (7) per week is “at risk” or “heavy”.

You’re very aware of how much everyone else drinks.
You can’t believe it when someone leaves a drink unfinished.
You plan around drinking and get angry/irritated when the plan changes unexpectedly.
Not being able to drink ruins your entire event/plan/evening.
You “get the party stared” by drinking while getting ready/cooking/preparing for company.
You’re gaining weight from drinking and feel swollen in the mornings.
You spend a lot of times piecing together events from the night before.
You drink when you’re alone to feel better from any number of stressors.
You’ve tried to set limits, but once you’ve had one drink, your resolve is suddenly gone, and you can’t understand it.

Pour up three 5-oz. glasses of your drink of choice right now – and measure it. This is all you should drink in one day.

Deep down, in your heart of hearts, you really want to quit, but you don’t know how.
You can’t imagine social situations without drinking.
Life without alcohol sounds utterly boring, dull, and anxiety-inducing.
You’ve lied about drinking.
You regularly have to apologize for your behavior while drinking, and you can’t understand or explain it.

If you just took this little quiz, and you’re afraid you may be drinking too much; or if you don’t even have to take the quiz because you know you’re drinking wwwaaayyy too much, and you want to quit or cut back, but don’t know how; stick with me. Read some more of my experiences. Contact me. Let’s talk. I have a lot to share with you.

Only The Beginning

Posted on June 7, 2019August 12, 2019 by Lisa

One morning I broke my wrist while drinking. In the big picture, breaking a wrist is relatively unimportant. But that event, after over fifteen years of drinking and trying unsuccessfully to quit, led me to my first rehab. And that was important.

In my first rehab, I became exposed to the idea that alcoholism is *not* disease based–very important revelation.

Up to this point, I had not really experienced any significant negative consequences from drinking. No DUI’s or other legal matters, no failed relationships, no lost jobs, and no physical injuries, until that wrist snapped.

The first rehab is important in my narrative because it was a non-disease based program. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but there are various schools of thought as to what alcoholism really is. In 2010, there were really only two that I knew of. Is it either a disease and treated as such, or it’s not. I chose to believe the latter, and that’s why I opted for this particular rehab program.

First rehab – non-disease approach

It was a residential, out-of-state treatment center that cost around fourteen thousand dollars. I couldn’t afford it, so my wonderful parents paid for this for me. (The memory still brings tears to my eyes. Someday I will pay them back.)

The organizers of the program claimed an eighty percent success rate, which I now suspect may have been false or based on extremely loose statistics. The year before, I had completed their at-home independent study, which was based on the philosophy that addiction is a choice. The at-home version of the program did keep me sober for a few months that year, and I desperately wanted to stop drinking, so I thought upgrading to the residential program may just be the ticket. Full immersion.

My first rehab taught that addiction is a choice and not a disease.

So even with three kiddos (ages fifteen, thirteen, and twelve) and a successful home-based business, my family and I picked me up out of my life, and deposited me into the hands of this treatment center to “fix” me. Straightforward and simple, like having an appendectomy. We kept it as secret as possible.

We had to let some folks know, though, because they would be helping out logistically both with our kids, and with the retail store operated by me and my husband. (Ironically enough, the store was located in the “Bourbon Capital of the World” – no kidding. And no, bourbon wasn’t my drink of choice.)

So, is it a disease or not?

The counselors at my rehab taught that addiction was absolutely not a disease, it was a choice-driven behavior. And that most addicts were selfish individuals, who were emotionally immature, and had short-term gratification issues. Once you face that, grow up, and make a long-term sobriety plan, you’ll naturally and logically make better choices.

The tone of the promotional material –those pamphlets that led me to enroll — were more “client”-friendly and diplomatic. They billed themselves as the “alternative to Twelve Step Programs”, which resonated with me, since I was not hip on the religious twelve steps.

So I showed up and started the therapy. The first week I learned that disease-based Twelve Step Programs, though they are the mainstream choice, don’t work well for many. This place claimed that traditional Twelve Step Programs have an abysmally low success rate of around five percent. (In other sources, I’ve seen as low as three percent (3%), and through Alcoholics Anonymous sponsored information and through word-of-mouth, I’ve heard anywhere from seventeen percent (17%) to thirty-six percent (36%.) It’s next to impossible to accurately cite, however, as attendance is voluntary and not tracked or recorded.

Twelve Steps Programs successes are below one-third.

My counselors at rehab drove home the belief that these numbers are low because the very nature of the disease model weakens us. When you endorses the disease model, you start to behave like you’re diseased and powerless and then become addicted, in essence, to meetings and sponsors without actually addressing your real problems. Plus, the founders were personally not into the “God thing”. They believed the Twelve Steps approach was detrimental to your success, and they spent a good week (out of four) convincing us of this.

In 1956, AA was the only game in town, and alcoholism was becoming a significant problem. To address the issue, the American Medical Association and the U.S. government endorsed the disease concept because there wasn’t another option. Labeling the behavior as a disease — just like any other legitimate disease — meant that legislation could be pushed to force employers to cover recovery costs for their employees.

Couple that with the judicial system mandating participation in approved Twelve Steps Programs for anyone who got a DUI offense, and this approach to addiction became the prevailing model of treatment and a multi-billion dollar industry. (www.forbes.com, “Inside the $35 Billion Addiction Treatment Industry”, April 27, 2015).

So, in 1989, the creators of this treatment center developed their own private program, organized it under non-profit status, and charge a reasonable arm and leg, as an alternative to traditional Twelve Steps Programs.

Their program’s core beliefs

Good news! I didn’t have a disease. Secure in that knowledge, I excelled in the program. I wrote my whole life’s narrative, looking for patterns of behavior, so I could change them. Then I created a sobriety plan based on the program’s principles:

You are what you think.
Human beings are ultimately motivated by happiness.
There are no shortcuts to lasting happiness (such as drugs/alcohol).
And the only constant is change.

Then I went home.

I looked good. I sounded positive. I was optimistic. This was the fresh start I had been needing, and now I understood what the problem was. Yes, yes, yes! I had indeed behaved, at times, selfishly. And I could be quite emotional, so that made sense. My long-term perspective had been weak, clearly, because I didn’t seem to care what drinking today meant for my tomorrow. Check that box. So, now things would be different.

An educated woman, armed with knowledge, and I was good to go.

Everyone at home was counting on me, and I was confident. My husband had educated the entire family — on both sides — on how alcoholism wasn’t a disease, and it was simply up to me to follow my sobriety plan into a happy and sober future.

But something happened about 6 months later, and I drank again. I don’t remember the circumstances surrounding that first drink now. I’m sure it made perfect sense to me at the time; but to wake up, hungover again and so soon, was abject demoralizing. I remember it like it was yesterday.

Bewildering frustration and hopelessness – can you guess?

The very first seconds of consciousness–a stirring behind my eyelids, and then groggily coming awake. Throbbing at my temples, parched mouth, upset stomach, in a fog, half awake/half asleep. Drifting in and out.

Then it hit! I see the bottle, remember buying it, and see myself hiding it in the bottom of my daughter’s closet, and, worst of all, I see myself drinking it. My husband busting me! Embarrassment. Anger. Defiance. Storming out. Driving. It came to me in bits and pieces. You know how it goes, each memory worse than the one before, bringing with it dread and incredulous realization.

Maybe it was a dream (or a nightmare). But then I saw a wrecked car in the driveway. Proof! The taste of guilt, shame and liquor in my mouth. Disgust. Despair. Bewilderment. I can’t bear or name all the horrible thoughts I had about myself. I wanted to disappear. I deserved to die. Did I really do this again?!

After so much money that someone else put into me; and after experiencing so much willingness, effort, and resolve to change; after feeling so much hope upon returning–just for me to selfishly disregard it all for a fleeting high–how could I do this? To my parents, my husband, my children and … myself. (But honestly, who really cares about herself at this point? Isn’t that really the greatest challenge?) Betrayal and shock.

That, my friend, was genuine suffering. Oh, how I hated myself. No one can hate you more profoundly than you can hate yourself.

Right there between my shoulders it laid, like a heavy weighted blanket of blame and disgust. Who the hell else is there to blame? Would I never change?

Drinking again after rehab was one of the worst lows I can remember..

It was the agony of hurting people whom you love and who are trying to love you back, which was the most shameful. Then having to manipulate, lie, and sneak to get this substance which wielded such bewildering power over me that was the problem. What to do?

How could I live with myself now, without drinking away my shame and self-disgust? I couldn’t. It wasn’t possible. And so it began again, and a grave beginning it was. Yet, this was only the beginning, and it continued for longer than I care to recall.