Many many years ago in a land of spandex, there was a
festival similar to Pola-Czesky
Days during which I was not able to contain my alcoholism as I did this
past weekend. Now, I should say that I was not in recovery back then as I am
now, but there were many similarities, and many triggers throughout the weekend
that brought up memories of my “good old days.”
Buffalo Bill Days falls on the same weekend as our current
town festival. It happens in the otherwise quiet town of Lanesboro, MN where
788 citizens are swarmed by thousands of tourists for a weekend of imbibing, events,
and a parade. I was always responsible for working long shifts during that
weekend, but I would start drinking before the end of work, and I would get
lost in the crowd as the night moved into darkness and I progressed into blackout.
Many times I would wake up in a stranger’s tent or on a bench in the park,
wondering what I would have to explain to somebody, or if I still owned any of
my paycheck or even a wallet. Many times, I did not. Generally my mind and my
wallet would turn up at one of the local bars where I would hear stories of the
aforementioned night, where I was a highlight even amongst the throng of
visitors. I would sit in reflection, wondering how I could not recall a thing,
order a Jager Bomb, and go back to work without having taken a shower or having
breakfast. Repeat.
Pola-Czesky days was full of challenges. Many of you are
normal drinkers, maybe even casual drug users. Probably most of you can order a
beer and walk around with it for a while, sipping and enjoying a casual spirit.
In fact, I saw many of you walking around drinking too slowly. And I could never
comprehend why or how you would only get one beer at a time when they allowed
you to have two.
As always, I monitor how much people around me are drinking,
and judge them because all of them drink much slower than I would be. I suppose
it’s a way to constantly remind myself that I am different: that I cannot and
will not drink slowly. I will not stop drinking until I cannot physically
ingest more, and often I will throw up copious amounts of frothy bile until I
have room to do so. I drink quickly, I drink much, and I don’t stop until
everything is gone.
A beer still looks good sometimes. When I have those
thoughts sometimes I have to process why for a few days and writing this out is
part of that procedure. I have built up a great defense for the first drink
over the past few years, which is why that beer that looked so good didn’t get
purchased or consumed. It was a fleeting thought, and gone as quickly as it had
appeared, but it was there. It’s not dangerous for me to have those thoughts,
it’s pretty natural. It wasn’t a craving, it was just a thought. A thought
followed by many brief periods of reliving my past in my mind, knowing what
happens if I have a drink.
The first drink tastes good. I take my time, and enjoy the
old familiar friend I haven’t had for a while. It goes well, and I decide I can
try some controlled drinking. The next day, I decide to go to a bar because I
don’t want to drink alone at home, and I don’t want any evidence of me drinking
in my apartment. Again, the first beer goes down so smooth. Look at me; I can drink like a normal
person! I decide I can have two tonight,
and maybe a shot of tequila. Yeah, that sounds refreshing. I take a shot and
chase it down with another beer and that’s when the magic happens. That’s when
the alcohol hits my brain and says that more will make me feel better. It feels
warm, especially on my face and in my gut. It spreads across my body and I
begin to smile. I can talk to the strangers next to me. They don’t know I’m
supposed to be sober. Hell, let’s do shots. They
like me!
 |
| This is me in blackout condition. I may have been combative. I may have been friendly. You just never knew what you were going to get. |
I wake up. How did I
get home? My fucking head. My head hurts. I don’t want to move. I just want to
die. I remember having fun last night. I remember. I remember nothing. Zero
days sober. Again.
That’s how my relapse went back in 2006. It lasted nine
years and I ended up in prison. That is the chain of events that will happen again if I stop going to
meetings and working with other alcoholics and addicts. I AM NOT LIKE YOU. I am
hazardous to you if I am suffering from my addiction.
Today, I am safe to be around. I remember what I did
yesterday. I almost always remember where my wallet is. I always have money. I
have a beautiful girlfriend who trusts me with her two beautiful girls. And I
have sanity, serenity, and sobriety. This is the life.
