My Recovery Rock Bottom – Part 3

“You wouldn’t know, you’re not a mother.”

My friend was right.  She was a mom in the depths of toddler hell and I was childless.

What you don’t know is, I had suffered a miscarriage less than 6 months prior and was actively trying to get pregnant again – I wanted to be a mother more than anything.

But she did know.  She knew that and she uttered those hurtful words anyway because she was struggling with something I knew nothing about. Which is funny because, I ALSO was struggling with something she knew nothing about. She didn’t have to “try” for a baby and she never knew what it was like to lose one either.

I called my husband on my way to work to invite him to my daily pity party of 1:

“Can you believe she’d say that?” (waaaah waaaah) “She KNOWS how bad I want a baby!” (waaaaaaaaah)

I had already polished off the wine from the night before.

“Have you been drinking?” he asked

Of course I lied. I lied all the time about my drinking. But everyone close to me knew I was an alcoholic. Down deep, even I knew, but I was drowning in a sea of denial at the same time. Less than 6 months later, I got my second DUI on my 32nd birthday. 2 days later, my husband told me he thought it best to wait 6 months to get pregnant. Devastation is an understatement. I wanted to get hammered but instead, cried myself to sleep because it had been decided for me that I was done drinking. Sure, I could have drank but I did not want to deal with the consequences…not that weekend, anyway.

I went on to relapse a handful of times over the next two months and for some reason, my husband changed his mind on baby making.  I picked up a sponsor to make everyone think I was serious about sobriety (cuz I wasn’t) and she highly suggested I wait a year to get pregnant.

What do you think this dry drunk girl did?

1 month later, I saw 2 lines and it wouldn’t be too long until I would experience the challenges that come with ages 0-5 that my friend was lamenting about just before she dropped that insensitive statement on me.

Do I regret getting pregnant in my first year of recovery? Of course not!  God did for me what I could not do for myself.  I’m convinced that had I not gotten pregnant, I would have drank again and again; causing more wreckage along the way. That being said, I’m also positive that had I put more effort into my recovery that first year, I would have been better equipped with tools to handle life when it got harder after we brought home baby #2.

Because being a mother is hard AF. I cannot imagine doing it drunk.

Being a mother (with alcoholism) without a complete reliance on a Higher Power proved to be unbearable. For me anyway. Hence the name of this series – My Recovery Rock Bottom.

#morewillberevealed

Skeletons 3.5 – My Recovery Relapse Series

Relapse (past & present:) “We’re only as sick as our secrets.” – AA slogan.

I haven’t been honest with you guys.

I mean, I have, but…not totally honest.

Remember how I said there are things I know I have to talk about and I don’t want to?

Well, I guess you can say I’ve been hiding behind this secret and allowing it to excuse me from writing for the past 2+ months.

I have wanted to move out of the past and write about the present but uhhhh, I haven’t been doing that now, have I? So clearly I need to still talk about some past shit in order to move on.

That’s how working a spiritual program of action works. And when I’m not doing it to the best of my ability, life is just harder. I can’t explain how that is and I’m digressing anyway so let’s just put a pin in that for now.

Back to my BBS that I have been harboring; recent events have made it abundantly clear that I cannot hang onto this part of my story anymore and if I continue to ignore my instincts, I will remain stuck in my recovery and I don’t want that.

So here it is: towards the end of 2018, I determined that not only am I an alcoholic but I am also a straight up addict.

Cigarettes, alcohol, weed, sugar, pills, & caffeine – I have abused them all at various points in my life and it’s time I write about it and make some serious changes while I’m at it.

Kicking this series off is the cigs because I’m ashamed to admit that after promising my 6 year old daughter that I would quit smoking back in May, I still am puffing them down and I can’t fucking stand it anymore.

Pause, you guys, I just went to look at when I last posted. It was May 22nd. The last “quit date” I set for myself and here I am about to set another one. Weird. Anyway…

I swore up and down I’d quit smoking before my daughters would ever know I smoked and yet here we are, her little voice yelling at me from the screen door for all the neighbors to hear: “MOMMY! STOP SMOKING!”

Me: (whisper yelling) oh my gosh…get inside…oh my gosh (closes door)

(walks away)

(door opens again)

A1: MOMMY! NO SMOKING!”

Can we say mortified?

I’ve made countless vain attempts in quitting.  I’ve made a gazillion promises to friends and loved ones, solemn oaths and public social media announcements.  I’ve quit smoking WAY more times than I quit drinking. Just like any relapse, I was immediately hooked after the first cigarette.  It has been, by far, the hardest addiction to crush.

I remember my first sponsor telling me she used the 12 steps to quit smoking, so…that’s what I’m going to do.

Seriously. I am.

I know you don’t believe me.

I wouldn’t either.

But mark my mother effing words: I. WILL. QUIT. SMOKING. CIGARETTES!

Tomorrow is Day 1, Step 1.

#morewillberevealed

Ps. This was posted a good long while ago.  You should follow this blog so you can find out how I did.