It’s been 18 months and 18 days since my last blog post. They say that a relapse begins long before you take a sip again. I can tell you that is the truth. I reread all my prior blog posts from the last time I was sober. Wow. The girl writing that blog was a sad, lonely girl. She was basically preparing for that relapse the day she stopped drinking. She wasn’t ready to be sober. She wasn’t ready for anything. So she did nothing, instead.

I relapsed hard the day after my last blog post. It’s so strange that I thought that I had hit my rock bottom back then. Reading those posts, I honestly don’t even recognize the person that was writing them. I barely remember her. This could be for a few reasons. That was a very dark time in my life, and I drank most of my days away, so there’s a strong chance that I was too drunk to remember a lot of what I was feeling. I also felt that being sober was a punishment, and that it wasn’t fair that I couldn’t drink. I resented my half-sobriety.

When I had gone to AA in the past, they told us that if an addict relapses, they pick up right where they left off. Well, they were spot on. in the beginning, I set rules for myself. Only a few drinks. Never get drunk. Only drink on weekends. Never drink alone. Drink water in between each drink. The list went on. I followed those rules. I still wasn’t happy about them, but I was proud when I followed them. But I only followed them for about two weeks. One or two drinks became more than one or two. When I thought that eyes might be on me, I still stick to the one or two rule, but I would add more and more vodka to each drink, so it was probably more like I was drinking four to six drinks. Eventually my pour became heavier, and even though I was visually only having two drinks, I had managed to drink half a bottle of vodka. So I was yet again, getting drunk and as fast as I possibly could. Yes, I only drank on weekends….as far as everyone knew. TH worked nights. He left at 9:00pm during the week. So I waited until he left, and poured myself my first drink. Then my second. Then more. This soon became my nightly routine. That also crossed off the “never drink alone” rule. Drink water in between each drink? I had somehow convinced myself that the water that I mixed with my Smirnoff counted as just that. I lived in this denial for a long time.

In early November of 2019, my life changed forever. I got the phone call that I had been expecting and dreading for years and years. It was Tony. My oldest brother, my first best friend. We lost him at age 34. He lost his own battle with drugs and alcohol. My baby brother had died, and my life would never be the same. After I got the phone call, I think I held it together pretty well. In a second, I knew that my parents were never going to be the same. This was absolutely going to break them. I was still the big sister, so I needed to keep my shit together for my brothers and my parents. Plus, I think that I knew this was coming long before I did. As soon as I got the call, I poured a drink. And another…..and more after that. Telling my own boys that Uncle Tony died was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my entire life.

The next few weeks are kind of a blur. My parents were dealing with what to do with Tony, where to have his ashes buried, waiting for the autopsy to determine what actually killed him. My other brothers and I took the lead on arranging Tony’s celebration of life memorial. We came together as a family and got things done that needed to be taken care of. No one in my family had the strength or want to be able to do Tony’s eulogy. I don’t think anyone else would have been able to keep it together. I was not a great sister to Tony. I wasn’t always there for him in the way that I could have been. We both struggled with the same demons, and he still drove me crazy. I owed this to him. So I put on my big girl panties, threw on some lipstick, threw back a few glasses of wine (two, four, maybe six) and made my way to the podium at the front of the jam packed banquet halls, and gave the most important speech of my life. I like to believe that he heard my words. I hope he knows how much I love and adored him. I didn’t tell him often when he was with us. I took him and his humor, selflessness and beautiful soul for granted. I miss him so very much. I do feel him with me, and I’m grateful he isn’t battling those demons anymore. I’m happy for him now. Still, it doesn’t make it any easier on the ones left behind. I would continue to drink. I would drink my pain away. I could put the agony of losing my brother out of my mind when I was buzzed. You’d think that I would have been smarter about my own addiction habits, considering Tony’s cause of death. But instead I did the opposite. I think this is where my spiraling started to get completely out of control. I started to hide it more. That should have been a sign. But hey, my brother just died, everyone grieves differently, right? And this was my way of coping. Feeling nothing at all.

My marriage hit a turning point right around this time. TH was not there for me in the way I needed him to be. I needed him more than ever and he was so angry at why Tony did to my family that the anger was stronger than the need to be there for me. He lost a brother too, he’d known Tony since he was a young boy. Tony always said TH was the older brother he never had. We both struggled with guilt. The more that he wasn’t there for me, and I know he tried to be, but not in the way I needed, the more I pushed my husband away. I resented him and started to become bitter towards him. So what did I do to cope with that? I drank.

So with the loss of my brother, the feeling that my marriage was falling apart, and the stresses of normal (or not so normal) daily life, my drinking habits became worse. For months, it was that I was self medication my depression and mental state. I was very scared when a few months later, when I woke up, I had the shakes and I started vomiting. This wasn’t a hangover. I’ve had plenty of those to know this felt different. I had started drinking earlier and earlier during the day. When I woke up, after not drinking for the hours that I was sleeping, I realized my body was going through with drawl from not having vodka in my system. This was no longer just to ease my overwhelming sadness. My body was becoming dependent on the booze. It got to the point that when I woke in the mornings, I would have to drink in order to feel sober. So I hid it more. I hid it at home, I hid it at work, I hid it when I was driving.

Last winter, maybe around October, things continued to get worse. October, November and December are all one big blur. I’m missing large chunks of time from my memory. If I was awake, I was drinking. I was getting so sick that I was needing two naps a day. I let my house, my job, my hygiene and my relationships all go to shit. Deep down I knew how bad this was. I knew what it meant. I stopped thinking about my future, because I didn’t believe I had one anymore. I tried to stop, or even slow down, and I would feel my head and brain start getting shaky. I could feel seizures coming on. I was afraid my kids were going to find me dead on a floor. I was slowly killing myself, and I was running out of time.

Right after Christmas of last year, I started getting very sick. I couldn’t eat. Nothing would stay down. I lost 11 pounds in 6 days. I’d even throw up a sip of water as soon as I swallowed it. I became weaker and weaker over the next few days. I had terrible pain in my side. I was vomiting blood now. All I could do was sleep…and drink. On January 4th of this year, I couldn’t go up or down the stairs on my own. I needed TH to help me. I knew what was happening. My body wasn’t working anymore. Keep in mind, I had been hiding all of this from everyone. So when I told TH that I had to go to the hospital, he thought I was exaggerating. He wouldn’t take me (he had a headache), so I called my friend to drive me. She knew I had been out of control lately. She dropped me off at the hospital.

After lots of tests, and me finally telling someone the truth about how much I was drinking, they confirmed what I was thinking. My liver had gone into failure and My pancreas wasn’t far behind. My organs couldn’t handle the damage I was doing to them. The dr’s told me that when someone comes in with the enzyme numbers I showed up with, only 50% actually leave the hospital alive. I was dying.

I spent the next 5 days going through detox in the hospital. So many IV’s, meds for anxiety, meds to prevent seizures, and more lies to family and friends about why I was in the hospital. By the time I left, my liver and pancreas numbers had greatly improved. My body was going to give me another chance. But they did tell me that if I ever drank again, I would die. They told me I needed to get treatment. I started an Outpatient Dual Diagnosis program on January 15th. It changed my life. I began treatment for my addiction as well as my depression. It was truly the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Today, as I write this, I am 94 days sober. I am a changed person. A lot has changed in my life over the last 2 years. I lost my brother. I filed for divorce, and that will be finalized in a few weeks. I’ve also met the love of my life. The biggest change, however, is that I am happy. I am proud of the woman I’m turning into. I am sober and I am in recovery. I still have miles and miles to go, but hell, I am on my way there.

My sleep is so messed up. I went to bed at 9:45 last night. Thought I’d get a nice night of sleep before the weekend to feel rested. Everyone knows how much sleep can help you or mess with you. Thought I had a full nice night of rest ahead.

I woke up at 2:00am to it being eerily silent in my house. I sleep with my TV on quietly just for some background noise. When I woke up it was pitch black and nothing. I sat up and made sure the TV bill was paid, and it is. Restarted the TV, nothing. Went downstairs and reset the DVR and fixed it. I watched 2 shows and couldn’t fall asleep. I’m wide awake now. Took the dog out. Did some bills, scheduled some work appointments.

Today is the anniversary of when my puppy died 2 years ago and I cant get that out of my head either. My mind is RACING. it’s too early in the day to take a Xanax because then I’ll fall asleep right before I need to get the kids up and have to get myself ready for work.

As I sit here and write this I cant believe how LOUD the second hand is on the clock next to me. The damn tick-tocking is so intense I’m wondering if something is wrong with it.

I’m going to have to mention this to the doctor. Other than this my meds have been working great. In the beginning I thought the sleep was messed up while adjusting to them. It’s been over 6 weeks now and I feel like it might be more of a side effect than an adjustment period.

I have no trouble falling asleep. But now that I’m up, I’m up. I’ve never taken so many naps in my life. I’m not a nap person. I don’t like this part. It also sounds like I have more than one clock in here because I’m hearing the second hand ticks from all over the place. This is when I’m starting to feel like I might be crazy.

I really had all the best intentions of starting this blog. I wanted to write all the time, a few times a week. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written. When I’m happy I tend to get Writer’s Block. A lot has changed in me, and I officially have the “block”, so please bear with me.

After my new diagnosis of Bipolar II I started on a new medication. I honestly feel like it’s helping me so much. I don’t wake up every day thinking “Shit, another day.” Maybe it’s the meds, maybe it’s therapy, maybe it’s the new friends I’ve made going through this shit that have made that grey cloud continue to scoot over so I can see a little more sun.

I’ve had a few slips. I haven’t been sober the entire time. Wish I could say I have been but it’s been a stressful fucking few weeks. I have not gotten drunk. At most I had a drink and a half. So yeah, to some, I’ve failed. To a lot, I’ve failed. But to me….I cannot remember the last time I had 1.5 drinks and dumped the rest. Baby steps? I don’t know.

Something is changing though. I am changing. My parents have been my heroes. My friends and family have saved me. My brothers…..all of them have gotten me through this. My boys will know when they are old enough for me to have real conversations with them about this. I’ll sadly have to watch them and tell them how careful they have to be now too. I may have passed this down to them, and most likely.

I’ve been sleeping better. I actually fall asleep instead of passing out now. I’m learning I deserve to be happy without being a drunk. I haven’t been the best of a person in the past. But I’m trying OH so hard, and I think I might be getting better.

A few months ago I couldn’t picture my future. As morbid as this sounds, I just didn’t think I had one. Tonight, I look forward to my future. I see bright things ahead. That fucking cloud is finally moving out of the way, and I’m seeing the sun again.

It’s been a while since my last post. There’s been a few things going on that I really didn’t know how to put into words. I still dont.

I’ve had a few doctors appointments this week. First one was with a therapist. I’ve tried therapy three times before and hated it. I seem to like this therapist. I laid it alllllll out on the line. She seems to get it. Only shitty thing is what she suggested.

-continued weekly therapy

-back to AA

-psychiatrist, proper diagnosis and meds

-my person favorite 🙄 intensive outpatient therapy for the dual-diagnosis. I’ve learned that means people that not only have a mental issue but also a history of substance abuse. Hi, that’s me.

I did set up another appointment with her cause I really like her and never liked any therapists except for my son’s, but sadly this isn’t a Friends episode when Ross still sees his pediatrician in his 30’s. I need a grown-up doctor. So I like her and I rebooked.

Yesterday’s appointment was different. It was my psych evaluation and time to get the actual diagnosis.

Turns out it actually IS what WebMd said (major first). Bipolar II with my main symptom is being hypomanic. I guess this means it’s not the usual up-down-up-down that you hear of when you or I hear “Bipolar”. I also didn’t know there were 5 different kinds. I always heard the word and thought it meant “crazy”. Although now typing it out when I asked if I was crazy she DID use the air quotes when she said I’m not crazy.

So I did some research on what all this means and its really me exactly. I dont want this diagnosis. But I also didn’t want to be an alcoholic. No one grows up and says “I want to be an alcoholic when I’m older” or “you know what? Hopefully I’m bipolar someday!” What I’m realizing now is there’s a major crossover between those two. When I was drinking I could make the lows more tolerable. Now I have to feel them.

I love my new psychiatrist. I think she gets me. She knows I’m nuts but not actually crazy. She’s funny. I started my new medication today. Cheers (with my lemonade) to moving upwards and onwards.

My mind is going a million miles a minute.

But my body can’t get off the couch. I feel frozen. I cant move. I have so much to do, so I’ll do nothing instead. I don’t even know what day it is.

What I want to do is go to the closest liquor store and buy my Smirnoff and make it help me fall asleep. That probably won’t help with my ulcers.

Or my sobriety.

A lot of Dr appointments set up in the next few weeks. All very close to work and home so ideally I’m going for intensive outpatient treatment.

On the plus side, even though I know it is not for the healthiest reason, I saw on the scale today I’m literally 5 lbs from my goal weight. I know it’s cause I’m not eating. My skin is dry and I’m losing a lot of hair. But seeing that number on the scale made me happy. Again, how fucking messed up is that? Don’t care. I’m getting skinny again.

Totally different subject but TH’s sister had to put her dog down yesterday. I do not like dogs. I do not like animals. For some reason I liked him. I think a lot of my spiraling started when we lost our Louie. He was only 4 and this is reminding me of the pain our family first had our hearts truly broken. I miss him so much. Knowing that my niece and nephew have done this 3x already…..tears are falling right now.

I’m rambling and I know it. I need sleep. It’s 1:30am and I’m predicting I’ll get tired around 6:00. About an hour before I need to get up. I do know that there are people that can relate to that feeling.

Goodnight.

I’ve been sitting in the same place on the floor since 10:30am. Folding about 29 loads of laundry. I did take a nap, but even then woke up confused. Thought we had to take the garbage out real quick before the truck came. It was 6:30…..pm.

My body isn’t cooperating and neither is my brain. My heart is trying. I’m gonna need some help. I’ve been researching grants and financial help because I think I need real help. I need to get put in somewhere for a little bit. I’m not healthy. Don’t know exactly when this happened but I am not ok. I’m not a danger to myself so maybe I can do an outpatient thing. All I know is I stared at the same part of the floor today for about 40 min before I snapped out of it. And even then I didn’t know how to move.

I told TH that I am going to need to go in somewhere….I know he’s trying to understand but we’re both very scared of finances. I swear if that wasn’t the issue I could get better. I truly don’t know how to in the mean time.

I don’t know exactly what is wrong. I have a great husband, two amazing boys and my life is great. What else do I need? Something is wrong in my noggin. The alcohol cravings are not going away.

I don’t know what to do. Don’t know what I’m going to do. All I know is I hate this. I’m afraid I’m at my rock bottom’s basement.

I remember the day my parents told us they were pregnant with my youngest brother. I knew it was coming, too. It was already me, T & W. I was totally cool with that. We had our own rooms, I don’t even remember why I hated the idea of another sibling but I did. I knew they were gonna tell us so I made them promise if we ever had another sibling we could name it Pinocchio.

I was a weird ass kid.

Well the day came. We all got called into the kitchen. I miss that kitchen. I remember the way the chairs felt. I remember the blue stains on the table from Mom doing crafts and needing to use Windex to clean up but instead, the table ate up the blue. I remember family dinners. I remember being able to see the front door from that table. Before texting and cell phones….that’s how we saw and communicated. Friends and neighbors walking to the front door. A lot of things happened in that house. That kitchen. But none quite top my amazing reaction to my parents telling me there was another baby coming.

I think I took the news pretty well.

If “pretty well” means yelling and screaming and crying and running out of that kitchen, nice tantrum, I nailed it. I knew it was coming. No idea why I was so pissed.

My mom didn’t have an easy pregnancy with him. I wish I was mature enough to understand what she was going through at the time. I would have been better to her. I was awful.

I resented the baby and my parents the entire pregnancy. I was SUCH an asshole.

One day my mom started bleeding. Bad. The ambulance had to come, and me and the current brothers went next door to the neighbors. I remember seeing herthroufh the window being taken out on a stretcher. If I remember correctly, one of us (probably me) knocked over the fish tank in a panic. RIP Fred #3.

I was mainly mad at the baby. My mom was my best friend and the baby was screwing all this up. She was mine. Not his.

Then there was the emergency c-section. My mom was losing a lot of blood, and the baby wasn’t healthy. If I remember right, I feel like the Dr’s actually had to come out and tell my Dad it didn’t look good for my mom or the baby. Bad enough where both of them might not make it.

I was in 5th grade. I was in class. An announcement came through on the speaker. “Congratulations, Kelly Hopper. Your mom just had a healthy baby brother. Can we all give a hand to the new big sister?”

Something changed. I dont know what happened. But when I met him……I fell in love. I somehow knew that my new baby brother was going to be my best friend for the rest of my life.

I remember almost feeling like he was mine. With the age difference a lot of people an thought he was. Whatever.

We did bring him with us a lot. He actually turned into my best friend. At 1 month old. More at a year. More at 3 years old. That’s when he met TH. I remember embarrassing him on his birthday at Red Lobster making them sing Happy Birthday. Omg he was so humiliated. It was awesome lol. And I know he still remembers it haha.

I’d like to say “long story short….” but I think this has been my longest blog. Let me wrap things up.

Mark is the best friend I have in my entire world. As much as I fuck up, I don’t think he judges me. Same sense of humor. That’s hard to find. In a tiny way I feel like me and TH raised him a little. I wonder if that’s why we are as close as we are.

He’s the most successful person I know. My baby brother, my Godson…..is the person I look up to more than anyone in the world. I’m so proud of what he’s done with his life. And I’m so damn thankful for who he has become to me. I tried to be there for him when he was growing up and now he’s the one holding me up when I fall. And I fall a lot.

Love you more than you’ll ever know, bro. Couldn’t get through another day without you. Thank you for being my bff. Sorry I freaked when I heard you were being born. Lol.

So I tried to blog last night and fell asleep with my phone in my hand. No idea where I get that from (thanks Mom). Today, after my doctors appts is probably a better time to explain anyway.

Went in at 9:00am for my assessment. Sooooooo not what I expected right off the bat. As soon as I filled out the normal doctor’s office paperwork (name, bday, insurance info, emergency contact bullshit) they took the clipboard, along with my purse, phone, watch, and had me empty my pockets. Everything went into a locker. I was shockingly allowed to keep my Kleenex in my pocket.

So you know on TV when someone gets arrested and there’s that room that they do all the questioning in? If there were cuffs in the table it would have been the same thing. Four walls, no windows, no clocks, nothing. Just a room. The girl doing the assessment was super nice. The next part is why is why I had to leave. But definitely felt like and an interrogation.

“So if you agree to do this assessment, you are signing saying you agree to whatever treatment we think is best”. I think I said well what the hell does they mean……

Basically if they think I’m an addict, crazy or a harm to others or a danger to myself, they can put my into inpatient. Well…..let’s check these boxes. Addict? Check. Crazy? Pretty sure check. Harm to others? Normally I’d say no but I almost and possibly beat my arch nemesis’ ass last week and not allowed back in the store. Danger to myself, no. I have too many people that love me, don’t know why, but I would not do that to them. As selfish as I am, I wouldn’t do that to them.

I didn’t agree to the assessment.i don’t need to be admitted and have them calling TH and my parents and basically saying I’m locked up for 4-6 weeks. She was nice about it. Gave me a whole list of psychiatrists, psychologists, and AA programs. I think that’s where I gotta start now. Tomorrow I start making calls. I know I need help. But I’m not hiding behind the “disease’.

So this show Euphoria….I really don’t think I’ve ever related to something more.

“I didn’t build this system. Nor did I fuck it up.

What happens…..when your breath starts to slow…and every time you breathe, you breathe out all the oxygen you have. Everything stops. Your heart, your body….and finally your brain.”

And then she smiles.

“And everything you feel, and wish, and want to forget….

“Suddenly, you get the air again.”

That, my friends, is addiction. I know most of you won’t understand. It’s ok not to. But that’s the best way I’ve seen someone put it into some sort of words.

Mid day today was not good. TH is never going to forgive me or trust me again. I’m trying to fix it but I’m also trying to fix me. Cannot fix any of this until i get betters I’m trying so hard. The day ended good. Got to meet a few friends out and had fun and laughed my ass off. No drinks. Laughed so hard I fell off my chair. And sober!

The thing is for a non addict…..they just want you to be smarter. Just don’t drink. Make better decisions. I’m sorry…. but fucking DUH. Reminds me of before I had my surgery and idiots would ask if I tried diet and exercise….NO! Thank you sooooo much for that new advice I never heard of or thought of before! They don’t know how actually crippling it is. And when you’re a drunk, you don’t get hungover anymore. But something happens to your body where you don’t feel anything, and feel everything at once. It’s awful and perfect.

I’ve lost a lot of friends because of this. I know I’m losing family. I’m trying.

Please try to be patient with me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you all.

Few of you know exactly who I’m talking to. No more knocking me off the chairs, Joy 😉

So it’s been a while since my last blog. I’m sorry. It’s been a weird week since “vacation”. I had a doctors appointment set up for last week. I had an entire list of things to talk about. Why my damn stomach always hurts, why my anti-depressants aren’t helping, and hoping she can tell me I’m not crazy.

She was more concerned about my stomach than anything. Said we need to figure that out and then work on everything else. I was a little pissed but i guess when I walk in not able to stand up straight that’s the Primary’s main concern.

She sent me right downstairs to the ER. I’m so damn tired of the hospital. I know TH is too. I feel like at this point everyone thinks I’m crying wolf. Im not. I swear. Had an upper scope. My pouch (nothing technically goes through my stomach anymore) is lined with ulcers. Awesome.

My stomach still is killing me cause my insurance will only cover tablets, not the liquid. That’s what I need because of my gastric bypass. We have amazing insurance. Don’t know why they won’t just give it to me. In the meantime of waiting on dr calls and insurance calls I’m eating half a bottle of Tums and chugging Mylanta like a bottle of vodka. Oh, how I miss you, my love.

Yesterday was TH’s birthday. Him and my boys LOVE Buffalo Wild Wings. It kills my stomach now but if that’s what the fam wants, that’s what the fam gets. It took me, no shit, half hour to figure out what to order. Got a salad even though I know it’d kill me. Great salad. Been in pain all day today. No matter what I *think* and hope i really hope he had a good birthday. I really tried. I tried as much as my world is letting me right now.

Now, back to my own shit. I started watching the show Euphoria. I’ve never felt more connected and relatable to something so fast. Props to Zendaya! This little Disney girl can act. I wont go into the all details but for the non-addicts…….please watch the opening scenes. 6 minutes and 39 seconds to be exact. I’ve never been able to put it into words. Somehow she did. It hit and hit me hard. That’s how it IS.

After the ulcer sitch I realized nothing was taken care of as far as my meds and mental state. I set up an appointment for Wednesday for a dual-diagnosis assessment. There are three different kinds. Mental issues (✋🏻), substance abuse issues (✋🏻again), and both. Sadly I know I need help with both.

That’s the first step though, right?

Also a few shout outs. You know who you are, besides my amazing parents,The Mom and The Tom. And my Mark……my rock. You know I could not do any of this without you. L, M, H, S, A, J, N, and someone that’s really been there recently, M. Thank you all for being there for me.

I’m trying to get better. I promise. I’m gonna be better, and soon.

God, how I wish so much that I could say how amazing this weekend was. It was our yearly little vacation. Swim, tan, eat, repeat.

I actually don’t love swimming. If I had my own pool I would. I’d lay on my float and stuff on and off and float looking up at the sky and clouds. Getting kicked in the ass cheek by some random kid and splashed hard enough to flip my contact out isn’t ideal. So I lay out and try to tan. I’m Italian. I should tan nicely. Nope. Still picking the burnt brown layer off my forehead. Damn. Self tanner on the forehead it is.

Food was sub par. Some real good, some was like microwaved pizza.

Now I’ll get to the rough part. While I was enjoying my tanning and reading my fun new book….I couldn’t stop seeing all the drinks. ALL the drinks. They all looked like vodka lemonades. They weren’t. There were margaritas. Sangrias. Fucking beer. I hate beer. But they all looked like vodka lemonades.

I counted 37 in about 2 hours. Got in the pool to try to distract myself from all the fun the groups around me were talking about. I could hear the blast they were having. Hell…..I could almost feel it. Went to TH and my boys who are all having a blast even without me. The DJ starts playing an awesome playlist. All the normal wedding group dances. I’m looking up there at this group of about 10 people. All doing the cha-cha slide and all those. I should be up there! I want to go up and dance with them. Almost did. I was already trying in the pool (a lot harder than you’d think). I’ve never done it without a drink.

Ever.

So I decide I’ll get a virgin drink. Just to hold and sip and somehow pretend. TH wants a drink too. So I went to the bar. That was fun. 😐 I order his beer and ordered myself a half orange juice, half cranberry. Put a lime on the rim and a cherry to feel all fancy and shit.

I go to the pool. Hand TH his drink. “You sure there’s nothing in yours?” He asks. Ouch number one. Ouch number two was when he wanted to taste it first to prove it. At this point I’m like fuck it. Give it to the kids. Im realizing I’m not going to be trusted to be sober again. Obviously no pool dancing for me.

Went to dinner the next night. I asked him can I have a glass of wine. No vodka. Just a drink on vaca. He was not happy. Said what a bad idea it is. So I started making deals with him and myself. “Only on vacation”. He finally rolled his eyes in a way that I swear said “whatever”.

So I did. I had two glasses of wine. They tasted great. Didn’t get buzzed even. I think my tolerance has been gone for a while.

I know I failed yet again. But I cannot tell you the last time I had two drinks and stopped.

I’m trying here. That’s all I can say, that’s all I can do.