A Year Ago Today...

I was delirious from lack of sleep (did not sleep AT ALL during the night) and simultaneously very keyed up.


Last night was the one year anniversary of my first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.


I'm not quite to one year of sobriety... that's not until November 22 (slipped twice, somewhat intentionally, in the first 30 days). But going to the AA meeting is one of the bravest things I have ever done. Nobody forced me to go. Nobody went with me. I, agoraphobic, anxious, shy Em, found the strength and the courage to walk into an AA meeting, full of strangers, alone. 


Going to an AA meeting for the first time is scary enough when you're not a little ball of anxiety. I know, because of the countless stories I've heard. And, I mean, think about it... admitting that you have an addiction to alcohol, that you are letting your life be ruled by a nearly uncontrollable, never-ceasing craving to drink. It's embarrassing. It's shameful. Not only are you admitting this shit to yourself... you're admitting it to a room full of total strangers.


Needless to say, it takes a lot. Lots of inner strength, lots of courage. But it is very possible- and very worth it.


I'm still not convinced I need to abstain from alcohol my whole life.


Alcohol itself wasn't the thing I was addicted to; I was addicted to the way it made me feel. The rush of self-confidence it gave me. The way the room warmed and blurred, making everything seem "safe." The feeling of contentment. The numbness. The blacking out; not having to worry about insomnia. And the forgetfulness- in the morning I never remembered how stupid I'd behaved; I only knew what Vuni told me.


I'm proud to say that, while I feel a slight sense of longing for these things... it's such a fleeting desire. Like a veil hiding something hideous; pretty, but look beyond it, and there's nothing but despair. I still literally feel sick remembering the absolutely awful hangover I had a year ago yesterday. It was tempting to do the "easy" (and expensive) thing- my parents asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital/a detox center... but no. I felt I had to suffer the consequences of my actions. I needed to burn into my mind just how physically painful it was, how destructive alcohol could be. And this has helped me- because that memory has reminded me of why I need to stay away from alcohol. Why it's not worth slipping up.


I don't think I could ever get addicted to alcohol again, but now is not the time for me to be taking chances. I'd love to enjoy a tasty beer again, or margarita... but until I am more skilled at using positive coping methods, it's best that I stick to the sobriety path :) 


Happy one year- never forget how brave you can be <3

Suicide: From an Attemptee's Perspective, and Why It's Never Worth It

How true this meme is...


Let me start by clarifying, I'm NOT suicidal... but sadly, I've been there before.


It's the absolute worst place to be. I've never felt so hopeless, so consumed by overwhelming thoughts and pain.


It wasn't that I wanted to die. It wasn't that I wanted to hurt anyone who loved me. Quite the opposite.


I just didn't see a light at the end of the tunnel; I didn't see anything but endless pain. I didn't think my life would ever be happy and whole.


It's been over 5.5 years now, and thinking about the suicide attempt still makes me feel completely sick, in more ways than one. It's awful to think I actually did it; it's equally awful remembering what I was going through at the time.


Here's what happened in a nutshell:


It was Spring of 2006. I was living alone, a 2.5 hour drive away from home. I was 19 years old, going to school full time, and working almost full time, at a job I absolutely hated. I had one person who was a true friend... and another. An ex boyfriend. In all honesty... I had followed him.


The previous August, he and I were together. I found out he was moving away less than 3 weeks before he actually left. Our relationship (if you could call it that) was very rocky; K didn't treat me well at all, but didn't seem willing to just break up with me. I'm assuming his solution was to move away and wait until the last possible minute to tell me; I didn't even find out he was moving from him. One of his friends let it slip. K told me he didn't think he could make a long-distance relationship work, so we "separated on good terms." Being the idiot that I was, I applied to the same school, and in January, I moved up there, assuming he'd take me back. The next few months were absolute hell; I was lonely, anxious, and depressed, I was falling further and further into my eating disorder, and he was leading me on. I called K out on it once; I told him that if he was going to be playing games with me, we might as well cease contact with one another. He promised to shape up, but said he still wanted his "freedom" and didn't want to get back together "yet". Being the naive, innocent person that I was, I didn't see this as a glaring red flag.


In late April, I took a handful of Tylenol PM. I was mostly hoping it'd knock me out for a few hours, and I figured, if it did worse, then it did worse. I woke up the next day in the ICU. After all was said and done, I convinced everyone it was stupid mistake, I promised to do better, I looked into therapists and support groups, and I signed up for summer classes.


Exactly one month later, K and I were out to lunch, when he received a phone call. Whoever was on the other side, he was being very flirty with them. When he hung up, he seemed nervous, and said, "I have something to tell you..." He then proceeded to tell me that was this girl he'd been dating for the past few weeks.


I didn't feel like I could handle this. I ran, on foot. He tried to follow me, but couldn't keep up (he was wearing flip flops). After wandering around the streets for about an hour, I returned to the restaurant. He was gone, but he kept trying to call me. I kept ignoring him. I drove to a grocery store that had a Starbucks in it, purchased the largest bottle of Tylenol PM that they had, and an iced black tea. K was still trying to get ahold of me. I stopped at another store, and got a bottle of Advil PM. K was still calling. I took almost all of the pills. Finally, I answered his call; he begged me to go to his house. I don't know what made me go, but I did.


When I got there, he started crying, and saying that he was a flaky person who shouldn't be with anyone. He confessed to cheating on me (something I'd figured anyways) and was basically flipping out. He then begged me to stay at his house that night; he was going to work for the evening, and in the morning, we'd take care of things, whatever that meant. As he was leaving (I was really feeling the meds by this time), I followed him out to his car. I said, "I did something bad." He began to panic, remembering what had happened only a month ago; he grabbed me by my shoulders, and asked, "What did you do?! Tell me, what did you do?!" I stumbled over to my car, and handed him the keys. He opened it, searched frantically inside (I was really messed up by this point) and found the bottles. He pulled me into his car, and drove me to the emergency room. I spent the next three days in the ICU, the next five in a locked ward, and the day I got out... K and I talked for the last time. We agreed to cut off all contact one another. My parents brought me home that day; we returned a few days later, packed up my stuff, and I was home for good.


It's so difficult to explain everything that was going through my mind at the time. A lot of conflicting thoughts.


Bottom line was, I didn't want to die; I just had overwhelming, excruciating emotional pain that I didn't know how to deal with, and I wanted it to end.


I felt like I was failing my attempt at becoming an adult. I was torn, because for some reason I still don't understand, I was infatuated with this guy who obviously wanted nothing to do with me; he'd cheated and been emotionally abusive. The only reason he did what he did the day of the suicide attempt was out of guilt, fear, and pity. I hated how much of a fuck up I felt like, and I thought that if I no longer existed, I would be doing everyone a favor. It might be painful at first, but I figured that the "benefits" of me being gone would far outweigh this; I wouldn't be wasting anyone's money, and I'd never cause anyone pain again. But namely... I wouldn't have to deal with such feelings of being rejected, unwanted, and not enough. It was an EXTREMELY selfish thing to do... but at the time, I thought that if I was successful, it'd be better for everyone.


I also still don't know what made me follow K out to his car, and more or less confess to what I had done. The only thing I can think of is that the tiny sane part of me, deep inside, knew that I didn't want to die. Was it a desperate cry for attention? It looks that way, and maybe on some sub-conscience level, it was. At the time, up until I did "confess" to K about taking the pills, I seriously just wanted to escape from the pain I was feeling, in whatever way that may be. Perhaps because I was feeling so fucked up by that point, I realized the true seriousness of what I'd done; I knew that if K left, there would be no going back. I was losing it as it was. If he left, I would've passed out... and not woken up. 


So why am I bringing all of this up now?


Well, recently, I've been dealing with some pretty damn fucked up feelings. And a lot of pain. I feel like a worthless failure, a waste of space/air/money, a total fuck up. My anxiety gets so overwhelming, and I often feel so hopeless, I wonder if things will ever be okay. I hate dealing with this; the anxiety, the pain and guilt it brings... I feel like I am suffocating, trapped in my body. 


But I know suicide isn't the answer. I know hurting myself isn't the answer.


Even though I may often feel lonely, and trapped, I know that I have some insanely awesome people who love me, and they obviously love me for a reason. They've never given up on me; they believe in me, when I don't always believe in myself. I think I said it in my last post: I live for curling up in bed next Vuni. I know that no matter how shitty the day is- if I've had panic attacks, heard bad news, been put on a guilt trip, gotten in a fight with the mirror, felt utterly hopeless and useless... at the end of the day, I will be snuggled up, nice and warm, to the most amazing person I could ever imagine. I know that, while I am cuddled up to this utterly stunning human being, there are two people several miles away, who brought me into this world, are proud of me regardless of my fucked up past, and loved me with all of their hearts. I have a brother who has looked up to me his whole life. I have a professor who NEVER gave up on me. I have friends and family who truly care about me, even if I am flightly and strange. All of these people believe in me... even when I don't.


There's obviously a reason I'm worth caring about and believing in... even when I don't see it.


Do I have to see everything to believe in it? I wish I could- but I know I don't. At the time of my suicide attempt, I never saw myself being happy again. Low and behold, despite some of the shit I've since been through, I've also had the best times. Vuni has loved me like I never thought possible. Last year, consumed by alcoholism, I never imagined that I could go more than a day without several shots of vodka. To my immense shock, I haven't had a single drop of alcohol pass through my lips in the past 10.5 months. This summer, although I didn't show it, I often felt paralyzed with fear at the thought of another heart surgery... but I had to believe that it would be okay, and despite some complications, it was. 


This has been one of the hardest lessons I've had to learn: sometimes, life really sucks, and it doesn't look like it's ever going to get better... but I HAVE to believe that it will. Because it does. It may be slow and gradual. There may be bumps and set backs and more pain and bullshit along the way... but eventually, it does get better.

"When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on,"  Thomas Jefferson.

I read this quote a long time ago; I feel this is what I've been living every day recently. I keep thinking that I can't take anymore bad news, any more anxiety or pain or guilt... but I refuse to losen my grip. I can't let go; I won't give up.


So for those of you, like me, who feel trapped, lost, out-of-touch, overwhelmed, riddled with shame and guilt, and just aren't seeing a light at the end of the tunnel... well, remember, just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Think about it- are you breathing right now? We don't see the very thing that is crucial to our existence, that courses through our bodies every second of every day of our lives. But it's there, just like the light at the end of the tunnel.


I've said it a gazillion times before: I have a long way to go. I have a lot of work to do. But in the mean time, I have to keep believing. I've tied a knot, and I am NOT letting go. 






Note- if you are feeling suicidal, please, please get help:

Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433

LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255

Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386

Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743

Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438

Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673

Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272

Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000

Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253

Taking The Bad With The Good

Last weekend Vuni and I went on a short little trip; his ska band had an out-of-town gig that was a 6 hour drive away.


I don't know what's wrong with me, but for as long as I can remember, I have never truly been able to just relax on vacations and getaways, no matter how small they are. I feel riddled with guilt, for some reason; I worry about the kitties back home (I'm lucky enough to say that I've always had a cat in my life ;), but I also worry a lot about money... even if I know that certain money has been saved up/set aside for the trip! Ridiculous.


Anyway, we left town at about 12:30 last Saturday, with the guitarist, drummer, and a bunch of gear in tow. I was determined to learn how to crochet on this little trip. I sat in the passenger's seat with a crochet hook, a tiny pair of scissors, some yarn, a "Crochet for Beginners" book, and Vuni's iPhone so I could watch YouTube how-tos. About an hour before we hit our destination and with aching fingers, I more or less had the gist of it... but I also had to take many photo breaks:

Between crocheting and the breathtaking scenery, it did NOT feel like a 6 hour drive.


We arrived plenty early, so we secured a parking spot at the bar the band's gig was at, then walked downtown to find a place to eat. I wasn't too keen on this. Anyone with an eating disorder can confirm that vacations really agitate the ED... especially if you're really routine driven. Major step out of the comfort zone. But also... I really, really don't like going out to eat as it is. I just feel guilty. 


I would've been content, in all honesty, going to McDonalds. (I love the Southwest Salads, sans chicken and dressing, yum yum!) We instead ending up at a fancy and expensive Italian restaurant... where I ironically ordered a flipping $8 Greek salad. After we left there, we wandered by an Indian cuisine restaurant, and I excitedly exclaimed, "Oh! Too bad we didn't see this place first!"


To which Vuni said, "Why? So you could get a salad at an Indian restaurant?"


This stung a little. I wasn't mad at Vuni, because, well, he spoke the truth. But it reminded me of the reasons why I don't like going out to eat in the first place: 


1.) I'm terrified of ordering anything other than a salad. ED aside, and I'd probably still be too afraid to get anything besides a salad. I like that everything is fresh and uncooked, and I can easily and clearly see everything, unlike a casserole or something... mostly because I've been a vegetarian for a good majority of my life, and I'm paranoid about my food being cooked/prepared with any meat or meat products. 


2.) The fact that I do always get a salad... and when we go to a nice restaurant, it usually is an $8+ meal. For freaking vegetables, sometimes some cheese and/or nuts, and a little dressing. Fuck I feel guilty...


Anyway, we headed back to the bar. Due to a bunch of bullshit band drama caused by ONE band member (mostly stemming from his under [drinking] age girlfriend), they got started an hour behind schedule. This wasn't cool to Vuni and I, who had another 2-2.5 hour drive ahead of us after the show (Vuni wanted to play in a poker tournament the next morning in a town that was 4 hour drive away, so we booked our hotel a city in between).


As I said in my previous post, I was being tortured by the urge to drink. It was a big bar, packed with people, and I felt super lame because this was a 21-and-over show, so I was probably the only person in the crowd not drinking. 


Then, some freaking creep came and stood next to me. I edged away from him, but he moved closer and started talking to me; I could immediately tell he was pretty damn tipsy. He said something like, "Don't move, I wanted to come watch them with you," I gave him a quick half smile but didn't say anything. He tried talking some more, but I could hear him too well because the music was so loud. Finally I heard him ask if I knew the band, to which I proudly said, "yes, the bass player is my boyfriend." He didn't seem to like that- at all. His friendly demeanor changed to sullen, and he went quiet for a few minutes. 


I tried edging away some more, but I really didn't want to move; I was right at the side of the stage, Vuni and I could easily make eye contact, I was close to the door and bouncer, and had easy access to the restrooms. A prime spot to plant myself. The creep kept edging closer to me though. 


I'm not good at dealing with over-friendly, space bubble invading, drunk weirdos. Never have been. This guy was really creeping me out, too. He keep trying to talk to me, and then, started touching me. Putting his arm around me and touching me on the shoulder. I was getting really freaked out, and wanted to escape... but I also didn't want him following me, and I was too chicken to grab the bouncer's attention. I was able to seize my chance when he turned back to the bar to order another beer; I acted like I was heading to the bathroom, then I ducked down behind a crowd of people, and snuck out the door. I moved as fast as I could, went around the side of the bar, and waited a few minutes (with my thumb over the panic button on the car opener) to make sure I wasn't followed. Then I locked myself in the van, and waited until Vuni was finished. Needless to say, he was a little angry about my admirer. I was just creeped out, and happy to be away from him.


Vuni and I departed for our hotel, sans drummer and guitarist (they were staying there, and had other riding arrangements). We figured we'd arrive at our hotel sometime between 1:30-2 am.


We passed through several tunnels on the way there. Funny, we both held our breaths (yes, at ages 24 and 25) to make wishes at the end...

On this drive through the pitch black, listening and singing along to Weird Al (we've been on a major Weird Al kick since seeing him in concert not too long ago), and just enjoying one another's company, I fell in love with Vuni all over again. 


I think maybe that's one of the important things about relationships not being perfect. Vuni and I have lived together for just over a year, and it's been our most difficult (out of 5) yet... but nights like the night of this drive make all of the hardships so worth it. I'm reminded of why we're in love; it's the reward a million times over for making it through the rough times. When we first started dating, and I had admitted to him all of the shit I'd been through and that I still had a long road ahead of me, he told me, "I'll be here for you, sitting in your passenger's seat." I don't mean to sound all sappy, but really, despite all of the crap I've dealt with, and how fucked up many other areas of my life are right now... I have Vuni. I love him SO much, it's unreal. Like, how is it possible to love someone so much that you can't describe it in any measurable quantity? 


And since I'm being sickeningly romantic... I'll throw in a Twilight reference, and say that that drive, that night, had to go on my list of top favorite nights of my life. My heart was just overflowing with exhilarating, overwhelming love for this boy <3 It made dealing with the feelings of wanting to drink and dealing with that idiot at the bar SO worth it... plus there was the anticipation of locking ourselves in our hotel room :D


We arrived at our hotel shortly before 2 am. I swear I live for the loving, sexy, pre-sleep cuddle sessions with Vuni :D Our hotel was amazing, BTW:

To the North... 

To the South

We got ready, got coffee and gas-ola, and headed to the casino for Vuni's tournament. While he was playing, I was working on my crochet, and lo and behold... one of the dealers (I think that's what she was?) helped me out! She corrected my mistakes and answered my concerns... so I can OFFICIALLY say that I know how to crochet now :D

It's amazing all that happened on this short little weekend getaway. It's a reminder that, anxiety disorder or sane (me... and Vuni ;), you have to learn to take the good with the bad; but that being said... "the good" (ahem... GREAT/AMAZING/AWESOME/SPECTACULAR/WONDERFUL) makes the bad all the worthwhile <3

The Good Girl F*cked Up Biggest

Yesterday was my graduation party :) It got off to a rough start, thanks to my mom stressing out big time (although grateful, I told her not to overdo it!). Anyhoo, it ended up being pretty darn awesome :) 


But as the party started to wind down, Vuni, my brother, Mick, and myself stood around munching the last remnants from the veggie tray and reminiscing about our teenage years, when I learned something that totally shook me up: my brother and his friends had done cocaine when they were younger.


This was over 5 (maybe even 6?) years ago; Mick has been clean & sober for years, and at almost 22, is a pretty damn successful merchandiser and journalism student. I'm so proud :)


I'm not at all mad at him for this discovery; it was so long ago, and he's left that life far behind, why should I be angry? I remember the time-frame when he was using drugs... it was really hard on my parents and I, but just assumed he was drinking and smoking weed. How naive am I?


The way this was reveled to me was even weirder; Vuni had recently told me about going to a party at Mick's friend Madi's house when he was younger (Mick, Vuni, and Madi all went to the same high school, Vuni a senior when they were freshmen). Vuni was only 17; Madi was 14, and she and her friends were doing cocaine at the party. While we were standing around yesterday, I told Vuni to tell Mick about this memory, since I was a little stunned to hear that Madi had done cocaine. Not only was my brother totally unfazed, but he revealed that he, himself, had at one time used it. I was utterly shocked.


"Did you know about this?!" I asked Vuni.


"Not exactly, but it doesn't surprise me,"


"So wait- out of the three people in this room, I'm the only one who has never done cocaine? I'm the only who's never done anything worse than smoke weed?!"


**Note- Vuni tried cocaine once roughly 10 years ago; that one experience was enough to scare him away.


"Yup."


"But.. what... how is that?"


"Because you are a good girl," Mick said.


"But it doesn't make any sense. I have always been the 'good girl'; I've never done anything worse than smoke weed, so why I am the one who fucked up worse than both of you put together?"


A day later, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around it all. Neither of them became addicted, over-dosed, or ended up in jail.  Currently, they're both successful, hard-working, rational adults. I, on the other hand, graduated 9th in my class, did not touch a hint of alcohol/smokes/drugs until a month before my 19th birthday, and was an all around goody two-shoes. I didn't go out. I didn't cause trouble. I didn't talk back or mouth off; I was sweet, quiet, self-motivated and respectful... essentially, I was a "perfect" teenage daughter, as my brother called me.


Flash forward 7 years, and I'm a big hot mess, minus the "hot." True, I've never ended up in jail. But I've overdosed and landed in the ICU twice. I became an addict, and probably came pretty damn close to losing my life. Seriously. It's been almost a year, and I still feel sick to my stomach think about all of the "what-ifs?"... someone once told me that they think I have a guardian angel or something. I must. Something. 


But regardless... my point is, they're successful. They're flourishing. I'm not. I often feel like one big fat fuck up. Jobless. Terrified of the world. Directionless. Attention span less than a 7-year-old who drank a can of caffeinated soda rather than take his ADHD pill. Always anxious...


Where did this good girl go wrong?


The anxiety.


It all goes back to the anxiety.  The overdose, the eating issues, the drinking, the panic attacks on-the-job, the agoraphobia becoming ever-worse... all of these things have kept me from being successful. All of these things are a result of my anxiety disorder. 


Because you know what? I am a good girl. I'm not perfect. I have moments when I can be lazy, bitchy, ungrateful... but by the end of the day, I've always been a good girl with heart-of-gold intentions. Anxiety really fucks things- and the sad thing is, it's so much harder to detect than you'd think.  It's always been "Em is just extremely shy, but sooo good," or "Em starves herself because she's in need of control," "Em overdosed because she didn't know how to deal with having her heart broken," "Em drinks to loosen herself up/help her sleep..."


NO. Em does all that shit because of her anxiety- to cope, escape, act on urges... whatever, it all goes back to the anxiety. 


So maybe I still have a LOT of work to do in regards to the anxiety- but you know what? I'm proud that I can identify all of this. I'm proud that I can separate myself from my anxiety, even with the irrational thoughts bombarding me- that I really do know that I am a "good girl." A year ago, I would have just thought of myself as one big fuck-up, no questions asked; I would see myself as a "bad" person, and therefor "punish" myself in some way or another. I'm not exactly proud of where I'm at in life... but! I have been sober for almost 10 months, I've just graduated from college... and I've been turning my life around. I've never given up, like I have so badly wanted to. 


So maybe I have fucked up; but I'm a good girl, and I'm doing what I can to fix it.

Prisoner To Yourself...

For awhile now, I've been trying to pinpoint a certain time that I could say I became agoraphobic, but I haven't been able to.

The fact of the matter is, I've always been agoraphobic; it has affected me my whole life, sometimes being more severe, other times allowing me to be slightly more social and have more of a "normal" life. But it seems that, even at the best of times, I would find myself waging an internal battle: These people are good people; they're your "friends." They want to hang out with you; if you give them a chance, if you go have a good time with them, you'll start learning to trust them... No, no, you need to stay home, where it's safe. They don't really like you; they'll get to know you then stab you in the back. Getting closer to them isn't even worth trying.

It seems that when I first graduated from high school, I was bolder, and more willing to trust people. I was glad to leave the world of high school behind; to me, it was an experience worth forgetting as soon as possible. I felt invisible, trapped in a sea full of immature assholes who thought popularity meant royalty. Yeah right, jackasses; like something as being voted "Prettiest Eyes" or "Cutest Couple" is going to matter in the real world.

Turns out, I was the one who wasn't prepared for the real world.

It's funny, as a teenager I had desperately hoped that once I entered the "adult world," I'd discover that people are mature and respectable; I thought they'd be moral and ethical, honest, and generally try to do the right thing. I thought high school drama would be a thing of the past.

The older I get, the more disappointed I become; the more experiences I have, the more I want to hide in my house, safe and far away from the rest of the human race. The hard part is, this means I trust almost no one... which, while it's never made life easy, it's making life really difficult and frustrating right now.

I heavily rely on my parents and Vuni; they're the only people I call and text on a daily and regular basis. They're my three best friends, and it scares me because I really do not know what I'd do without them. As you can probably imagine, this poses a big problem when they're not available or accessible. Here's examples of, just in the past 24 hours, how that works:

Last night, Vuni had another gig at the fair, so I was home alone. I was having a pleasant enough evening... until I discovered cat pee, yet again. EmmaBear has been good all week about going in her box, so I was pretty distraught. I looked at the clock, wanting to call my mom and cry, but it was already around 10:30, so I knew she'd be asleep... and since I'd called her at work earlier that week, and my dad had scolded me for it not being an emergency (Yes it's a fucking emergency! I was about to punch a hole in the wall!) UGH. And I couldn't call Vuni, because even if he did check his phone in between songs, it wasn't like he could tell his band members and the crowd, "Sorry, gotta take ten, my girlfriend is on the phone having a nervous meltdown.

So here I was, in a "dangerous place," with no one to rescue me; no one to guide me out. It's times like these that controlling urges is the hardest. In the very early stages of my recovery from alcoholism, I never imagined that I would eventually get to a place where I didn't think about alcohol on a regular and daily basis... but I did. In general, I don't think about it, nor do I crave it. Last night, however, I wanted it. I wanted to feel my body heat up as the alcohol coursed through my veins, burning away the pain and erasing the anxiety.


I was also craving an Icee like nobody's business.


After clean up duty and locking EmmaBear in "timeout", I figured I'd go get my Icee then maybe try to find something interesting on Netflix. I hopped in my car, and started to drive to the convenience store down the street. On my way, I passed a liquor store... and thought about how wonderful it would be to stop in, buy a small bottle of vodka, and pour it into my Icee. Just a small one; just for tonight. Vuni wouldn't be home for another 1.5 to 2 hours; I'd be long passed out by then. The thoughts were so strong, I actually slowed down while passing the liquor store...


But no. I have worked so hard to stay sober. I've been sober for 9.5 months; I can't throw away almost a year of sobriety for one night of numbness. 


Plus... why would i want to ruin a perfectly good green apple Icee with something that tastes like poison? ;)

Obviously not green apple ;) This is a cherry one from a few nights ago.

I returned home, watched some Blue Planet (which I've lost count how many times I've seen at this point), spun my legs for a bit as I sipped my Icee, then retired to the couch and waited for Vuni to come home.


It scares me how close I came to slipping; it makes me angry that it takes so much work, so much internal battling, to keep myself from resorting to a negative coping method. It also sucks that everything seems likes an internal battle to me; if I want more friends, if I want to be closer to people, why the hell can I not just let go and make it happen? Instead of torturing myself, instead of coming close to slipping, why couldn't I have called someone up and vented, or begged them to ramble about something just to take my mind off of things?


Because as much as I hate to admit this, it's kind of stating the obvious anyway... my extreme dependency puts a lot of pressure on my parents and Vuni; this morning proved so. I desperately wanted to vent to my mom about what happened, but when I tried to call her, she didn't answer her phone. It took over an hour before she finally answered (no, I was not calling the whole time, just every now and then). By this time, I was grumpy. Angry about the previous night's events, angry that my mom was not around when I needed her. Yet when I got off the phone with her, I was sad. I can't stand to be mad at her, my dad, or Vuni; I can't stand when they're angry with me. Because then who do I turn to?


Agoraphobia and anxiety really do suck :( Not only do they keep you a prisoner in your own home... they keep you a prisoner to yourself. 

Empty, Lost, and Uncertain... When Do I Get to Stop Worrying?

**Disclaimer- this is a depressing, whiny post. I really needed to get some of this out though, so I apologize in advice for the gloom.


I kind of feel right now like I'm just existing. Existing because I have to... because I'm here and alive.


The Twilight Saga is one of my guilty pleasures... I actually am angry with myself for liking those books, because personally, I think they're sappy and I really don't like the message they send to young women, but whatever. I kind of feel like Bella did in New Moon though... not that bad, because it's not that there's no happiness or that I'm totally depressed, but...


...things are just so strange now. Surreal. Not really in a good way; they are what they are, but they could be a hell of a lot better.


It has finally hit me that I am officially finished with school. I've graduated. Have my degree. School started this week... and I'm not there. I turn on the radio, and listen to the student radio station I use to work at (for credit, not cash ;), and hear former classmates... and it's so weird that I'm not there. It's not that I'm not happy to be finished... believe me, a lot of blood, sweat, and tears went into my degree, and I'm happy to have it, however... I've been in school since I was 4. That means I've spent the past 5/6 years of my life in school. I really don't know what it's like to not be a student. Being a student has consumed the majority of my life. If you're doing the math- yes, I graduated from high school in 2004. Yes, my 4-year plan became a 7-year plan; it was a combination of changing my major several times (and still having no idea how I ended up with a degree in Macom... trying to figure that one out for myself) and having to take a semester or two off due to health reasons. But those times, I was on a hiatus; this time, I'm actually finished. It's an extremely bittersweet sensation. Happy to be finished, sad that it's over.


I also feel lost... because I have no idea what the future has in store for me. I know what I want, and although I think about it all the time, it's almost as though I put it in a box high up on a shelf in the corner of my mind, because it is so unattainable right now. I can look at it, and it's sort of nice to think about, but I don't know how realistic I'm being. In all fairness... Vuni is right. I'm placing a lot of pressure on him; my dreams rely heavily on him. Also, however... I don't see much in store for the immediate future besides somehow generating income and saving, and the immediate future beyond that... more squeaking by, because Vuni wants to go to graduate school, and possibly get his doctorate's degree as well. This means I'm going to have to be patient for a few more years, at least. And that's if things go well. Dammit Em, you pessimist... MAKE THEM go well ;) But seriously, I don't mean to be a pessimist; I'm just very skeptical, because I thought that by the time I reached my mid-twenties... I'd be, you know, further along in life. Part of me thought I'd be successful at something; the other part was terrified, wondering how in the hell I could possibly survive in the adult world. (<--- wow, totally screwed up sentence, and I really don't care).


I'm terrified of the unknown, and I despise feeling so uncertain. All of these feelings, plus trying to suppress the other demons (the ED voice, the substance desires) are pushing me to my limit... but that's where the numbness comes in. I cannot hurt myself. I cannot just give up. Over 5 years ago, on a desperate whim to escape feelings I did not think I could cope with, I attempted suicide, and I KNOW that it is NEVER the answer. I also know that giving in to alcohol cravings, starving myself and over-exercising and binging and purging, and self-harming will not only NOT solve anything, but will just make things worse and set me back further. I have no choice but to realize that life just isn't where I want it to be right now, and yeah... it kinda sucks :( It sucks, because I am always worried. Well, okay, so duh, I deal with extreme anxiety and I am worried a lot because of it, but there have been periods of my life when it was less. It didn't seem to constantly consume me. It was worrying about far lesser things. Because if there's two things I hate worrying about, it's finances and the future. 


I feel like I'm caught in a never-ending spiral. I realize that money does not solve all problems, but lack of it sure causes a lot. Tight funds mean no money for desperately needed therapy. It means no money to be able to do things; one of my favorite things to do, ever since I was a little girl, has been shopping. A shopping spree is a fantasy; being able to afford something inexpensive is a once-in-a-blue-moon treat. "Window shopping," is fun every now and then with my mom, because I get to do a rare bit of going out-and-about, but on the flip side, it gets depressing fast because then I want stuff, and obviously can't have it. So this just makes me want to stay home, further contributing to my agoraphobia. Also, I was bitching to Vuni tonight; even when I do start getting income (whether it be finally landing a job I can handle, or being approved for disability), it's not gonna go to things I want. It's going to rent, to credit card bills (which, to most people, aren't THAT much, but seem like a shitload to me), and to at least paying my parents back some money for all that they've leant me (because I know that, medical wise, I've been pretty expensive too :( Yeesh). 


I hate to be sounding so negative right now :( I did promise, however, that I would be honest and not sugar coat things; that would defeat the purpose of this blog. It sucks admitting this stuff, but I doubt that I'm the only person going through this. Remember (if you've read other posts) how I said that I like to read pregnancy/new mom blogs? Weirdo! One that I check regularly, because I just adore the blogger (Tyler) and fell in love with her story, is called The Tiny Bubble. She wrote a post awhile back about how new moms should stop pretending that being a new mom is always peachy, or pretending that they are perfect at it, when in fact, being a new mom is extremely difficult and can make you want to run away sometimes; it's not only okay, it's normal, and moms should band together and share their feelings rather than act like it's taboo to get frustrated and such. Well, guess what? I know can't be the only person who deals with extreme anxiety, has made some dumb financial mistakes (cough cough... credit cards!), and, indeed, just some ignorant choices in general... and is now paying the consequences, which suck. Bottling all of this up is only making me feel like my head is going to explode; I'm not proud of what's going on, but I'd rather talk about it then hold it inside and let it consume me, pushing me to unhealthy coping mechanisms.


So if you deal with any type of anxiety, if you're struggling with finances, if you're worried about the future, if you're feeling empty, lost, and/or uncertain... you're not alone. We can be strong; even if it means being numb. It's taken me years to learn this lesson, but sometimes, you just have to keep trudging along, head down, straight into the wind blowing against you. That's how I see myself right now. I'm not giving up, because even though it's hard to imagine that things actually will get better, I haven't and won't stopped hoping.


I have one more thing to complain about tonight... totally pointless, but it's freaking me out and let's face it, whining and getting it off of the chest (no pun intended, given what I'm about to say) will make me feel a little better. The right portion of my most recent surgery scar has been itching horribly. I was scratching it tonight (though trying not to), but when I looked down, it was dark and bleeding. I went into the bathroom to look in the mirror for better/further inspection... it looks like a blood blister or something has formed there? Now it no longer itches, but hurts. I'm crossing my fingers this isn't something bad... and yet another thing to really be worrying about. 

Escaping the Realm of AlcoHELL: part 3

Although realizing and admitting I needed help, and attending my first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting was for sure the hardest part and biggest step I could take towards overcoming my problem with alcohol, it was only the beginning. 

My "Blue Book," which I received at my first AA meeting

In fact, my first AA meeting was only the beginning of a very long night; one of the longest and yet, most relieving nights of my life.


Vuni and I drove back to my parent's house after that first meeting.


I knew shit was going to be rough the moment I walked into my parent's house. If anyone has ever had an intervention done on them... or even, a serious talk from their parents, you know that strange feeling where the atmosphere is tense and uncomfortable, and a lot is about to be admitted and discussed. I could sense it as soon as I walked through the doorway; my dad steered me to the couch, and sat me down between himself and my mom. Vuni, looking like a nervous wreck, sat on the loveseat.


My dad then asked, "do you have anything to tell us?"


Ack.


My parents are truly wonderful people- the kind where, even for someone like myself, who can't stand to have people mad at her, their disappointment is even worse to face than their anger. I'd faced this kind of thing before, and it scared the crap out of me. However, this time... it was different. I was feeling so empowered, having just taken things upon myself to seek help, that the words just came tumbling out.


To this day, I don't think I was able to convey the amount of anxiety I had been experiencing, but I was able to to admit the extent of my drinking, and everything I'd done wrong in the past year. My parents, needless to say, were in absolute awe that I was not only admitting that I had a problem, but that I was very much willing to get help.


Apparently, before Vuni took me to the AA meeting, my mom had talked to him while I was off somewhere talking to my dad. She asked him, "Is Em okay? Be honest with me," to which Vuni said, "No... she's not okay." While I was at the meeting, Vuni returned to my parents house, and told them about everything that had been going on; so even if I had not been honest with them, they knew. I had kinda figured, as I was explaining everything, that they knew more than they were letting on, and it all made sense when they told me about their talk with Vuni. My poor mother did not have so much faith in me; she had sent Vuni to go drive around the church where the AA meeting was, telling him, "There's no way Em went into that meeting... she probably ran away! Please, make sure she's not outside, wandering around..." I think Vuni did so to humor her, but he had seen me walk into the church with the other AA members, so I think he felt fairly sure that I was alright on my own.


So not only were my parents shocked at my raw honesty, but also, at the fact that I had stuck to my guns and sought help- on my own. Without them forcing or coaxing me into it. Let me tell you, it was a powerful feeling; sure, it sucked admitting at how badly I'd fucked up, but on the flip side, my parents were immensely proud of me for owning up to what I'd done wrong, and wanting to fix it. Poor Vuni seemed overwhelmed with relief; glad that the truth was finally out, and both surprised and thrilled that I was not angry with him for talking to my parents. How could I be, though? He loves me enough to do something that many people would not be willing to do. It took an immense amount of courage, and I will never forget that.


Although the evening had been exhilarating in the fact that it felt SO GOOD to be honest and take steps in the right direction, it was a very rough night indeed. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I could no longer drink to escape. I did not sleep that night.


I hadn't been to school in over a month; I felt like I'd been a nobody there. No one had called me, no one had emailed or Facebooked me to see why I'd just suddenly disappeared. This didn't surprise me; I'd always somewhat thought of myself as the Invisible Girl. But imagine my shock when, five days after my first AA meeting, I was contacted by one of my professors. I'd always liked Ellie; I'd been in several of her classes, but I assumed that I was merely another student to her- just another face in the crowd. So when she said that she wanted to meet me for coffee, to make sure that I was okay, I was humbled and thrilled, and felt that I owed her the truth. 


I thought it would be very difficult to admit to her my problems; I wasn't the greatest student, by any means, but I also doubt anyone would have suspected that I was dealing with something as outrageous as alcoholism. I was embarrassed; but once Ellie and I sat down, and I began talking, suddenly it just all came out, much as it had done so with my parents. I worried that she would see me differently; I worried that she would doubt my abilities, and see me as a failure, just another student who would drop out because she was stupid and screwed up.


She didn't.


In fact, she has never given up on me. I have had some awesome teachers and professors throughout my school years; none quite compare to Ellie, however. I would not have found the courage to return to school without her; she has helped see me through it to the end, and always been there, whether I needed help with something regarding school, or just bitching and crying about life.


But back to the alcohol story ;)


After confessing my issues to Ellie, I began attending an AA meeting every day. You would think, that life without school or job would be easy; it was one of the hardest times of my life. 


Less than a week before I was about to reach my 30 day sobriety, I began to get scared. I don't know why; for some reason, I was afraid of reaching a solid monument of time. I was afraid... what if I reached the 30 days milestone, then slipped, and had to start all over again? Would my 30 Day chip mean nothing? So I purposely went out and bought some vodka. The first time, I didn't get caught; when I made the same mistake again, several days later and a day before what would have been my 30 days, I happened to call my younger brother while tipsy. He alerted my parents; I got chewed out by both them and Vuni the next day :( However, that was all I needed to shake that irrational fear out of me. November 19, 2010, at about 10:45 in the evening, was the last time I drank.


I continued to attend at least one AA meeting every day. I actually looked forward to them; even though I didn't talk much, I loved being around people who knew exactly what I was going through. I'd bring my sketch book (I'm a restless person, what can I say), and as I listened to other people around me share their thoughts and emotions in relations to substance issues, I'd draw. It was a wonderful sort of therapy, and it kept me sane when I thought the anxiety and lack of alcohol was getting out of control.

A page of flower doodles I did over the course of several meetings.

Although I found the meetings extremely helpful, and credit them for being my saving grace (aside from Vuni, my parents, and a few other people including Ellie), I began to have some issues with things in the program. I was meeting with my sponsor, L, fairly regularly, but I felt that things were not moving along in that sense because L and I were not seeing eye to eye on some things; when I admitted that I occasionally smoked weed and took anti-anxiety meds, she voiced her concern. While I understand the whole "nothing that affects you from the neck up," mentality that she was getting at, I didn't agree with it- especially since she seemed to think that it was wrong that I was on medication to manage my panic attacks. I decided to switch sponsors, but when my potential new sponsor voiced expressed the same opinion, I felt that it was time for me to go sponsorless. 


In a weird way, I think this experience with my (potential) sponsors is what strengthened my resolve. You can call it stubbornness, but the fact that they said, "Anything affecting you from the neck up will only lead you back to alcohol," lit a tenacious fire in me. I was going to prove that just because I was on medication, it didn't mean I couldn't overcome my issues with alcohol. 


Two weeks after going sponsorless, and five days before Christmas, my mom and brother (visiting for the holidays from out of town) came with me to my AA meeting where I received my 30-Day Sobriety coin. It was the last meeting I attended. When asked to tell the group about my 30 days sober, I told them that there is no way I could have done it without the support of AA. That is the honest truth.

My 30-Day Sober Chip; I keep it in my purse as a reminder of my hard work.

Why did I stop going? Some of it goes back to anxiety, but I didn't like the experience I had with my sponsors. I have always had trust issues, and always had trouble connecting people. Throughout my life, I've had a hard enough time making and keeping friends, people you bond with over interests and similarities; imagine me trying to bond with people over substance abuse issues. I felt like I'd taken not one, but two chances being open and honest, and it had backfired in condescending judgement. I'm not angry at either person; if that is their believe, then that is what they believe. To me, they were still two incredible people, who'd done amazing jobs at turning their lives around after such life-controlling issues. However, I wasn't going there to be judged, and I felt like that's what was happening. I love and believe in the program, but when it comes down to the personal, one-on-one portion, I just didn't feel like it worked for me.


I will forever be grateful to AA for getting me through those first (almost) 2 months; for giving me the tools to have faith in myself and faith in something higher then myself. They truly helped me see that things could be better, could be different, and that I did not need alcohol in my life. 


That being said... I am not sure I ever was a true alcoholic. I had very serious issues with alcohol; I used it to drown out overwhelming anxiety, to silence the voices I could not. 


But in less than two weeks, I will hit 9 months sober. I have not been to an AA meeting since receiving my 30 Day Sobriety chip.


It hasn't been easy, but it has gotten immensely easier with time. I'm not sure at exactly what point it happened (I believe it was somewhere around my 30 days), but I suddenly realized that I no longer craved alcohol; for those first 2 months, especially the first few weeks, I craved it constantly. It was obviously hardest when my anxiety felt the most out of control, but I would often crave it because I missed everything from how it loosened me up to the actual act of drinking. I had to almost completely remove myself from the bar scene (something pretty difficult to do when your boyfriend is a musician) for the first 5 months; only in late spring did I really start going to Vuni's shows again. Now, when I go, I have almost no desire to drink; if I do, it's just because I miss having a rum and coke or whatever while the show's going on, not because I want to get slammed... and I quickly shake off the desire. Memories of what alcohol did to me haunt me, and when I'm actually close enough to smell it, I get nauseated. I'm suddenly taken back to my super hang-over, the one I experienced the day of my first AA meeting; I can easily say I'd never drink again if it meant I'd never have to go through that again. 


However, I also am unsure if I have to abstain from alcohol forever. I know that now, at this point in my life, I don't need it. I have no intention to drink now, or any time in the near future, but that's not to say I'd one day be opposed to drinking a wedding toast should Vuni and I get married, or having a little fun the next time we go to Las Vegas. It all depends on where I am at that time; but I truly feel that my experience with alcoholism was such a horrific one, I will never let it control my life again, whether it means never letting another drop of it touch my tongue or not. I really don't know, and I'm not going to say at this point one way or the other. It's up in the air.


What I do know, is that I escaped the realm of alcoholism. I was caught in this spiral of doom for what I believe most alcoholics would consider a short amount of time, but I know, that while I was there, it was pure hell. Anyone going through any type of addiction knows how hard it is; you feel absolutely powerless and that there is no way to quit, while knowing that if you don't, only destruction and death lie ahead of you. It's one hell of an internal battle, but I am proof that it's not impossible. I didn't think it was possible in the beginning, and in the blink of an eye, I've been sober for nearly 9 months. 


My anxiety hasn't gone away, and life is still pretty damn rough at this point for me, but it would be in shambles (or not exist at all) had alcohol remained in the picture. Plus, despite the anxiety and things not being where I wish they were, life is so much better without alcohol.


So please, if you're reading this, and you or someone you know has issues with alcohol... seek help. It truly is possible to overcome this addiction; you are never alone. You can escape from the realm of Alcohell.