Relapse in Detail
September 2, 2022
Dear God, good morning. Yesterday, I was writing about the last time I was out drinking. I wanted to be a “Social Drinker,” and I meant it! I wanted my cake and eat it too, and I wanted to drink alcohol without any consequences or problems. I was heading toward relapse!
When bartending at the Disabled American Veterans (DAV), Many bikers were now coming down to the DAV, it was a clubhouse for them. They would do the ice bucket challenge outside to the new prospects. Watching some tough biker guys scared of the ice bucket challenge was hilarious. I got to know a few guys personally, including the president of the biker’s club. They were men who were businessmen, labor guys, and musicians. Many of them were married, but many had a mistress on the side. The bikers were very respectful towards me; I was, after all, their favorite bartender.
I felt important, and I would pour extra drinks to some of the guys. Jack Daniels was their drink; they would go through two- liters within an hour. They would say to me, take it easy, Geri, and have a drink on us. I was becoming thirsty for alcohol again, but this time I’ll drink like a social person, is what I told myself. One or two drinks won’t hurt.
When I took the first drink of Captain Morgan, it tasted incredible with a diet coke in it. I took a sip of the drink and fell in love. The guys would buy me drinks all night long, and I would have at least seven to nine drinks at the night’s end. I would drink and not stop drinking. I came home drunk every Friday night. Then it was Saturday night with the girls singing karaoke at Patrick’s. I sang songs with the girls and drank as much alcohol as possible.
I said to myself, forget about being a social drinker. I was enjoying my drinking escapade. I wasn’t going to stop drinking because I had no blackouts yet and no drug consumption in my system. I didn’t get caught drinking and driving. I kept justifying my right to drink.
My husband hates it when I’m drunk. He would talk with a firm tone and say, “Mamita stop drinking, or I will divorce you.” I did not care about what he said. He never saw me drink when we first met, and I didn’t tell him I was a recovering alcoholic. He had no idea what to do.
I was now doing whatever I wanted when I was drinking. I was a good bartender, and I had access to alcohol. I’d pour myself a drink before work and needed it every day. I hid my drinking from everyone except for my husband. He was furious with me every time I came home drunk. He believed I had a lover on the side, which I did not have. I was too busy drinking. Nothing came between my drinking.
Only divine intervention was going to help me, a drunk. I was now drinking alcohol to escape life’s problems and to forget uncomfortable feelings of guilt, shame, remorse, and depression. I was drinking against my will.
I knew I needed to stop drinking alcohol. The shakiness, hangovers, and dry heaves caused me to be sick. My stomach was burning inside. I needed to help my poor sister, who was living with us. Sunflower found me sick and stuck to my bed. She asked me, “Are you hungry?” I could not think of food. I felt like I was hit by a bus. Every bone and muscle in my body was in pain. Everything hurt.
Finally, I had some food my sister cooked. She suffers greatly from severe depression, and here she was, caring for me. I should have been there for her and comforting her in her time of need, and I feel guilty that she took care of me.
I should have gone into a detox. It never occurred to me at the time. I probably needed some medicine to stop the shakes in my body, and my hands were shaking too. I remember craving a drink, but I got up the courage and poured the booze down the kitchen sink. I was done! The alcohol kicked my ass. Getting in the shower was hard. I refused to call any of my sohba sistas and brothers in the fellowship. The shame of drinking stopped me from calling anyone.
I remember writing to you, Jesus asking for help. It writes: “Dear God and Jesus, please breathe life into my broken heart. I love you, dear God and Jesus. You are my savior” I didn’t think that you, Jesus, would hear my cry for help. Because I never asked you for help before. I thought you abandoned me long ago when I was a child.
I got sohba on October 11 is my sohba date. I was still sick, and my sohba girlfriends went to Salem, Massachusetts, for Halloween. It’s a big deal, and we have fun! I didn’t have a costume and could not go to Salem because I was still not feeling well. My sister Sunflower Susan, Joanne, and Susan, our neighbor, went to Salem and had a phenomenal time.
Thinking about the past reminds me that I’m a sick alcoholic, and if I drink again, I’ll end up dead somewhere. That’s how powerful this disease is. So many of us go out one more time to drink, and some never make it back to the fellowship. They die out there with no loved ones around them. I almost died once. The disease of alcoholism has killed so many of my sohba sista’s and brothers since I’ve been around the fellowship.
You, Jesus, saved me from destroying my life completely. You gave me the strength to face my friends. They welcomed me back to the fellowship, and I renewed my membership at Club 24 in Malden, a sohba club. I had to face the fact that alcohol beat me up like I was in a boxing ring. Every time I drank alcohol, I’d get knocked out. I also realized that I had to surrender to this illness and desperately needed the fellowship.
The people in the fellowship care about your well-being. They asked how I was, and I told them the truth: I was coming back to meetings. I’m just one of the lucky ones that made it back to the fellowship. To drink is to die for me. I know I can’t drink one day at a time. Thank you, sweet Jesus, for saving my life. I love you