H.A.L.T

           One week. When I wake up tomorrow morning, not hung-over, I will have one week of sobriety behind me. The confident and let's face it, still proud and egotistical, me wants to shout it to the world. That world, which, by the way, largely doesn't even know I have a problem to begin with. The Oldest came home tonight from a week out of state for Spring Break and as I welcomed her home with a hug, a really loud and proud part of me wanted to ask her if she noticed anything different. I wanted confetti to fall from the sky and a crowd to gather in applause as I told her that I finally am quitting drinking. I didn't, of course. That moment wasn't about me (what? not everything is about me?) and, she has seen enough and dealt with enough of her boozy mama than for me to unload my need for validation on her. She will notice in time. She may even comment on it. If she does, then we will have a chat. In that moment of reunification, I hugged her and listened to every detail of her fun trip.

          So, back to this one week thing. Part of me wants to overpraise and congratulate myself and the other part is telling me to slow down, take it easy, you haven't even really fought for this yet. I figure, the right amount of pride fits somewhere in between. I have had a week before. This week, in fact, hasn't even been "real life". I have not been at my full-time agency this week due to Spring Break. I haven't juggled school mornings, babysitter drop off, and grueling schedules of 10 hour days, sports practices, crockpot meals, never ending housework blah blah blah. I am bracing myself for reality to hit next week. This week has been, dare I even say it.....easy. And, with ease, and ego, and pride, comes a false confidence. A flimsy aluminum foil vest in lieu of a full suit of armor, sword, and shield. How is it possible to feel so confident and so scared shitless all at once?

          At some point in grad school, I took an addictions class or two. The thing is, as a therapist, I am fully educated and equipped to counsel and educate an addict. Ethically, I refer those clients out, but  I understand the cycle of addiction, the theories of causes, the need to replace fallacies of thought, and trigger identification. I can recite the textbook lingo about relapse and relapse prevention. Why, then, is it so incredibly difficult to treat myself?

           A simple acronym has been singing its way back and forth in my cluttered head all week as I think about getting back into real life on Monday. H.A.L.T.- Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired. I wish there were a cute acronym to make by adding a B for Boredom and an F for Freedom. These are my triggers and if I do not prepare to battle them now, if I do not strategize and come up with a plan of attack, they are likely going to strike with little warning and my aluminum confidence will be no match.

       I don't know that I have a winning warfare strategy for each of these. I'm not sure you (actually, no followers means that "you" is really just "me") are even interested. But I think I have to try. I have to try to identify how feeling one of these above feelings has translated to buying liquor in the past and how I intend to fight those inevitable urges/habits/cravings, whatever the hell they are called, off to protect my alcohol-liberation.

1) Hungry. This is the easiest to combat as it tends to pose the least threat. I have to be kind to my body. I have to return to taking my PCOS and IR medicine and eating my 5 small low-carb high protein meals a day. I am food prepping tomorrow, I am placing my pills in a pill box. Check. ( that was quite cocky and over-confident, eh?)

2) Angry. This is a tricky one. I'm not sure I have ever drank because I was angry. Anger is a secondary emotion anyway, so perhaps I need to be on the lookout for hurt or scared. And, just as I typed that out, I have, for the first time this week, felt that salivation in my cheeks, the tightening in my chest, the flutters in my stomach. Sigh, this feeling things while sober thing is going to be a bitch. So, when I have a sad day at work (occupational hazard), or feelings of self-doubt and fears of failure I need to know that alcohol will make those feelings angry. Alcohol will thrust my armor off and catapult me into the cycle of self-hatred that drinking will cause. When I come home and the house is trashed and I feel hurt that no one seems to help out around here nor care, I must be able to identify that its ok to sit in my hurt for a minute. Identify, rationalize, address, let go. Rinse and repeat. IRAL. Angry me is much harder to deal with than scared or hurt me. Angry me is much more prone to destroy self and those around than scared or hurt me. I can nurture hurt and scared me. I cannot control angry me. If all else fails, I can white-knuckle my way through an hour at a time, repeating to myself, "maybe in an hour". Phew, scared me is in full effect now; scared to death that feeling scared will equal a shooter or two, or eight. Not on my fucking watch. Not this time.

3) Lonely. I'm going to stick bored in here too. But, here's the deal on these two: alcohol perpetuates them both. Clear minds and full hearts are pretty powerful antidotes to loneliness and boredom. My solitary drinking, my deception, my inner battle of not pouring another glass and then finishing the bottle, these are the acts that created my own loneliness. I am not lonely. I have a beautifully supportive and busy family. I have a wonderful network of friends. I hope beyond hope to build a network of fellow readers and bloggers here. My isolation creates my loneliness. Drinking created isolation.
      Boredom is a little trickier. I am picturing myself during my work day. I am putting myself back in those days ( not all the time, but enough times) that I justified why drinking in the middle of my day was a good idea. Now that I am truly dissecting that, it was never about boredom. It was about fear or being overwhelmed or being not good enough. It was feeling guilty that I hadn't followed through on a task because I was hung-over, so I needed liquid courage to face the late task. It was feeling like I couldn't handle a new case on my own merit, but with just a shot or two, I would magically have all the answers. I think it felt like boredom because on those days, I was half-committed, just going through the motions. I don't work well without passion. The hangovers or the shots, depending on the day, were sucking my confidence, ability, and passion right out of me. Mind, blown. Sneaky little fucker alcohol is. Small successes. My battle plan must include celebrating small successes. It must include gratitude and honesty. It must allow for me to give me permission to love me.

4) Tired. Yep. Yep, yep, yep. Funny how much more awake I feel after 2-4 shots. I can conquer the world. Until I can't. Until four shots turns into eight or is followed by a glass or four of wine and all motivation is lost. Until I continue drinking hoping to find a second wind and find myself waking up in my bed, fully clothed the next morning and not a damn thing on the night before's to-do list accomplished. This one is just stupid. It is sheer stupidity. Why the hell would I ever believe that a depressant would give me the energy I need to combat my life and all the tasks at hand? Holy sick. I have been so sick. I am so grateful for the clarity to truly begin seeing this fact. So, my plan? A real night's sleep. Exercise in the morning or at night or wherever I can get it. This one is always on my list, but Hubby schedule makes me a pseudo single-mom and Little seems hell-bent on making sure Mommy can never get to the gym or to the living room or garage or for a walk. Not making excuses (as far as I know in my present state of mind), this is fact, but I will continue trying. So, a solid attempt at exercise, eating better ( see Hungry), and COFFEE. Lots and lots and lots of motherfucking coffee. I'll throw some green tea in there too. Also, maybe its okay sometimes to accept the fact that I am tired and some nights, maybe the dishes and laundry truly can wait. Wow, letting go........check me out!

5) Freedom. I added this one because it feels like any time I have to myself is freedom and my first natural instinct is to hang out with myself and my friends, Vodka and Vino. Until they come on too strong and then I feel trapped and really don't want to spend anymore time with myself. This one too is part of a nasty cycle. A few weeks ago, I had the morning off work in order to take Little to an appointment. This appointment, by the way, was a reschedule from the week before when my hangover demanded I call and cancel the original due to "car issues", sigh. Anyway, I took him, the appointment didn't last nearly as long as I anticipated. The sun was shining, he and I had a great morning together and so naturally, in my happy mood, I dropped him off at the sitter and determined that instead of getting caught up at work, I had nothing to do until my afternoon appointments. I landed at the bar. Two bloody Mary's later and just a slight buzz, I figured I'd head on in to the office and do some deskwork. But then I found myself at another bar. And then I found myself too shitfaced to drive any distance. I cancelled my afternoon, went to my private office, slept on my couch, and headed home that evening hiding my terrible secret. Freedom? Seriously, Jill? I have never felt more trapped and scared and chained in my life. Here's a thought- when I have "extra time" or time for myself, how about a walk, or a meditation, or a headphones blaring at my desk catch up? How about I DECIDE to remain free by remaining clear headed.

            I can hear some recovering drunks I know tsking and shaking their heads at these grand plans. I'm not naive. I know these words and plans are flowing easily onto this page. I know drafting an attack of war is much easier than executing it. I know what lies ahead will be hard, and bloody, and emotionally taxing. I know the payoff is worth it. But I also know that losing this battle is not an option anymore. If I lose this battle, I lose the war. Losing the war will ultimately mean paying with my life or damn near it. I have been lucky. I cant keep trying my luck. I may need to adjust my strategy in the next coming weeks, but I will not surrender. I have never worked so hard or wanted something more, despite how scared and vulnerable I feel. Plus, that egotistical and arrogant part of me? Well, she is a sore loser!

I'd be interested in hearing about your own battle plans and victories. Looking forward to 'meeting' some of you ( ANY OF YOU!!!!) soon :)