The tears flowed hard and heavy . I had made the choice to enter rehab and get the help I needed.
When the doors slammed hard and loud behind me, I realized I had just locked myself up. Not the most comfortable feeling for anyone I am sure , but absolute breath stopping for a person that has claustrophobia. All I could think was " What in all holy hell, did I just do?"
At the sound of the lock clicking and my first steps into the world of rehab I started crying and crying some more, and some more. I kept asking to go home, that I had made a mistake and I could not do this. Finally I was heavily medicated and put to bed, with the hopes that I would sleep a good sleep and wake up, if not adjusted, at least ready to get into the program and try to help myself. So I slept, I slept through dinner, night time snack, through the night, and even breakfast. I told all that came in my room for vitals, or just checking in, that I planned to sleep my way through rehab.
I was being told over and over that I was better off and safe right where I was, that the withdraw was at this time very dangerous and could be deadly for me. I am happy to say, I made it through the withdraw and am alive and well sitting here writing this.
How did I end up in rehab? Drinking,Drinking, and Drinking some more . At first it was all fun and games , you know hanging with friends around camp fires, or game night, things like that, it was a few drinks a lot of laughs and good company. The drinking wasn't every day, but then without my noticing I became a daily drinker, always after 5pm and then only just a few before dinner. Again I didn't notice when the drinking extended to after dinner, and I didn't stop until I passed out. Pretty soon, the drinking became more and more often until I was drinking in the early afternoon. I didn't drink before, or while I was working, but minutes after I got home from work a drink was in my hand.
Then this past year everything changed. I felt like everything was going wrong. Murphy's law was heavily in play, and self pity had taken over the drivers seat in my life.
Getty died suddenly with no notice what so ever. Getty was our 15 year old fur baby . He came to live with us when he was 3 months old. Getty's death gave me an excuse to drink even more. My Jezabel was totaled by a kid texting and driving. It is an accident that will never leave my memory, I thought I had killed the kid, we had collided so hard. The sound of crushing metal wakes me up from a sound sleep on many nights. All the more reason I told myself to drink even heavier. I kept saying I needed it and that I would slow down soon. I didn't.
Mom had been living with me for 11+ years with dementia, I stayed home with her from day one till her last breath. In April of 2021 Mom feel to the floor with no vitals. Just as the EMT's were about to call it, Mom opened her eyes smiled and said "hello". We all almost lost it. Mom went to the hospital, and I went deeper in the bottle, telling myself it is okay I can stop whenever I want.
Mom came home the end of June . 3 weeks later Mom passed away. I was holding her hand when she took her last breath. An easy look of peace came over her, I saw it clear as day, and while I took comfort in what I saw, it didn't bring me peace. I will never know if my drinking and getting sick and being hospitalized myself didn't aid in her decline. Had I been well and healthy Mom never would have been sent to the nursing home and the neglect and lack of care wouldn't have happened. All of this was even better reasons ( in my mind ) to drink, guilt is an emotion very hard to live with. Drink enough and you can drown the guilt, at least for a while.
Soon I found myself drinking in the morning, afternoon, and night. Then I was waking up in the middle to have a drink, to stop the shakes and the sweats. I was no longer drinking to enjoy, but just to be normal. Not that I was admitting that fact to myself, not yet anyway.
I went back to work right after Mom passed. I was getting up 2 to 3 hours earlier then I needed to, to drink more then a few before work. As a functioning alcoholic no one seemed to notice, or if they did they kept it to themselves.
Well no one noticed until the day at work, my chest got super tight and breathing became difficult and I fell out on the floor. When the EMT's came I said "I wanted to leave here", I didn't mean life, I meant my job and the embarrassing situation I found myself in, but it was taken differently. That landed me in a hospital room with nothing but a bed and a babysitter. ( I was going to be hospitalized anyway but that comment made everything different.)
After 3 days I was sent home. You can guess after 3 days without a drink, the first thing I did after kissing and hugging BowD was pour a drink. Well more then one drink.
The next morning with a drink in my hand and the determination to actually fix what was very broken, I did a computer search and found a rehab that I liked the sound of and that was ready to take me right then and there . One phone call and I was on my way.
I woke the hubby and told him what I was doing, he wasted not a minute. He packed my bag, put me in the car, and bringing BowD along for the ride, off we went. I hugged that puppy so tight the whole way there, it is amazing his head didn't pop off.
I said my bye byes in the parking lot and walked myself into the building. Then the door slammed and I became a total basket case. For the first time in a very long time I had to handle a tough situation without a drink.
