Two years ago, I thought I needed to quit smoking and then life would be alright. Everything else is going just swimmingly, I thought. It's astonishing to me now reading over my blog posts how I possibly could have come to that conclusion.
I was spending the majority of my time alone in my apartment, my head spinning, unable to get a grip on reality. I was incapable of discerning who I was, what I wanted with my life, what I was supposed to be doing, where I was or wasn't going and why. I had diagnosed myself with any number of nervous disorders, was often afraid to leave my house even on small errands, became overwhelmed with even the thought of doing day to day tasks. The thought of paying my bills or checking my bank account would often send me into a panic attack complete with rapid shallow breathing and racing heart.
All of this was not for lack of trying either. I had tried. I had tried to set up rules for myself that would help me to get a handle on things and start functioning like an ordinary adult and nothing ever worked. I had tried regularly seeing a therapist to see if they couldn't help me find an answer to my dilemma, had tried getting organized, getting more exercise, changing my diet and developing a very disciplined routine. Nothing had worked. I would get all high and buzzed on my plans for change. I would become consumed with the program and manically think of nothing else for days. I would tell others all about it zealously and with such conviction. I wonder how often my loved ones have suffered through these cycles with me, patiently nodding their heads and graciously biting their tongues.
I had never considered that I wasn't an ordinary adult. Even after deciding to get sober I was reticent to admit that I was an alcoholic. An alcoholic starts drinking in the morning and doesn't stop until they pass out. An alcoholic cannot be depended on for anything, cannot be punctual, cannot pay their bills. An alcoholic is homeless, the town drunk. None of that was me.
I didn't know that an alcoholic could be someone who went to the bar saying,"I'll have one" and stumbled back to their car whimpering,"Again??!" I didn't know an alcoholic could be someone who drank so much they should be dead but nevertheless showed up on time for work. I didn't know I didn't have to be a stereotype nor fit some hiccupping cartoon stereotype to be an alcoholic but that's exactly what I discovered about myself December 2014.
In one of my last entries to this blog I wrote about my habits on OKCupid which now looking back, I can see clearly are the actions of an egomanic with an inferiority complex which is exactly what I was. It was on a date with someone that I met on that website that I had my first slip-up. At the time, I was much less concerned about the alcohol than I was the cigarettes but I went for it all at once. I had gone out with this fellow prior to my quit (either one) and for some reason we decided to try again (desperation and boredom I guess) and he knew me as a drinker/smoker. This was the first person I had really been around who didn't know that I had stopped and I felt it was the perfect opportunity to slip without judgment. I knew deep down at that time that I wasn't in it for the long haul. I hadn't even begun to address my demons and so I damn sure needed something to cover them. After that night, I was off and running again.
I can't tell you how much I took to heart everyone's stories about the trouble it takes to quit all over again and I can't really describe for you the cognitive dissonance it takes to read those stories, believe them and think, yes, this is true but then turn around and go back to smoking and drinking anyway. What I can tell you is that it's good to be back. Humbling, but good and apparently I can use some of that humbling anyway.
