A Glass of Wine

Donna at Sober Mom(ologue) writes:

The whole point of drinking is to get drunk. Acting “silly,” blacking out, and hangovers are all just part of it. I have never understood the concept of just having one or two – seriously, isn’t that kind of a waste of the one or two? That is how alcoholics think.

I had heard that for years, and it was part of why I thought I wasn't an alcoholic.  I never wanted to get drunk.  I wanted to have a glass of wine or two, which for years I did and could, but eventually a glass or two became three or five more often than I wanted.  Five meant I'd finished the whole bottle, which meant the next morning I was a mess, filled with shame and self-loathing.  I never wanted to finish the bottle, never wanted to get drunk, but somehow I ended up doing it anyway.  Not every time, but often enough to convince me I had a problem.

Reading Jean's story at UnPickled confirms my assurance that not all alcoholics think the same way, because she was so much like me, and not like all the "alcoholics do/think ______" stereotypes.  I had been sober four months when I found her blog, and had met enough women like me that I knew that people who drink too much come in all kinds of packages.

I haven't read much of Sober Mom(ologue) yet, am just beginning to explore the sobriety blog scene.  I've written here before about Crying Out Now, one of the first I found, and which helped lead me to sobriety.  I have read some of Mished-up, whose author I knew from an online community before I found her blog, and some of Sober Boots, whose author Heather Kopp, like Stefanie Wilder-Taylor is brave enough to be "out there" publicly, writing about her sobriety under her own name.  Someday maybe I will be, too, but not just yet.

UnPickled

I have discovered a wonderful new blog, UnPickled, the story of a woman very much like me on her journey to sobriety.  Like me, she didn't "hit bottom" in in ugly, scary way and people weren't telling her she drank too much.  Like me, she'd have a glass or two in public and stay charming, then come home and nurse another glass an hour until bedtime.  This is ugly in its own way, but ugly on the inside, a putrefying interior covered by a mask of poise and beauty.

So many posts on this blog resonated with me.  The Trouble with Shame hit a nerve, because all my life I have struggled with shame, too concerned with what others thought of me, knowing I shouldn't be, but couldn't force myself to stop caring.  The shame fuels my perfectionism, which I know is destructive and try to combat, but with limited success.

This one on Coincidence reminded me of the Serenity Prayer on a plaque on the wall at my neighbor's house when I was a little girl.  I used to read it, and think about it when I was in her kitchen.  Her mother was kind of tightly wound, and once in a while she would be on a terrible tirade of anger.  I hadn't thought of that girl in her mother in a long time, but I wonder now if the mother was an alcoholic, one struggling to stay sober with the Serenity Prayer on the wall, and those rare flashes of frightening rage I witnessed were the fruits of her relapses.

I look forward to reading more of UnPickled and other sobriety blogs, and to sharing parts of my story here, on my anonymous blog where it feels safe.  I don't intend this to be a sobriety blog, per se, but my sobriety is part of who I am now, part of my story, and because I have only shared it with a few people close to me, I'm not ready to go public and write about it on the blog I write under my own name.  I'm not willing to write about a lot of things there.  I suppose I'm afraid people will think I'm over-sharing, and because I care what people think (as much as I may wish I didn't) I keep quiet.