The Big Fall
The idea of going into rehab was just not an option for me until it was the only option.
I had been drinking, quitting and drinking again for most of my adult life. I had put myself in dangerous situations, ruined relationships, embarrassed my family and been a constant source of worry. Several years ago, when I had actually quit drinking for 10 years, my life took a bad turn. I was newly divorced, living in a great apartment, great job, running and doing yoga daily. I was feeling pretty good. I went on a yoga retreat alone to Mexico 2 years in a row. I was a success. On the second retreat, after a yoga class, a man asked me out for a drink. I accepted, planning to opt for a non-alcoholic drink. I was flattered. Then he poured me a glass of red wine. I truly believed that one glass would be ok. Look where I was in life! Fast forward 3 days. I never really made it back to my condo, drank tequila on the beach and got drunk on the plane on the way home. I had the cab stop at the liquor store on the way home from the airport to buy a box of red. I called in sick for work for the next week with a “migraine”
It wasn’t a “slippery slope”, it was a fucking cliff, and I fell off. The next 2 years were hell. It progressed quickly to drinking every day, cancelling anything I could so I could stay home, lying to everyone I loved. I tried quitting several times, but now it wasn’t as simple. I would get so sick without alcohol that I couldn’t stop. I progressed from tremors and sweats to having hallucinations if I didn’t drink. I had at least one seizure. I had reached out to an addictions program and had been started on valium at least 3 times but I always drank again. Not for a happy little buzz, but to feel normal. It was hard some days to keep the drink down long enough for the alcohol to absorb. I would take Gravol so I could do that. Not good.
The addictions nurses were coming to my home at this point, because I couldn’t go anywhere. I had called them one day, desperate to get in to a detox program. I guess I had finally realised that I wasn’t going to quit on my own. I was really scared. I knew I could die from this. The nurse I was closest too, told me I could go to detox, she would help me, but she was brutally honest and said she didn’t think it would work for me at this point. She suggest an inpatient 90 day rehab. I of course said no. I couldn’t possibly go. I still had a job (I don’t know for how much longer) I had family, cats, I couldn’t just leave. I really believed that. She then proceeded to get me a physician who placed me on medical LOA, got me in to a facility on the other side of the country and sat with me while I booked my flight. Saying yes to this was a moment I will never forget. I had been fighting for so long alone, I was done. Putting myself in the “care” of someone else changed everything.
The flight there is a blur, the first few days there are a blur. I know I cried a lot and I was always being forced out of my room to attend things. I was a mess. But as time went on it got better. I went from thinking that this was never going to work, to never wanting to leave the facility, to actually having some hope. That was about 2 and a half years ago. I am still sober.
