If you got a chance to read my previous post, well, yes, I am now making it a point to go back onto the wagon. Crappy as it sounds, I do need to give my liver a break. To all you out there that have compulsive or addictive personalities, I have to say, a lot of what I'm experiencing is less the personality and more the physical. For instance, on this special New Years Day morning, I had the terrible shakes. My brain was throbbing. My heart was racing. And what ran through my mind like some terrible record was that I was going to die of a heart attack. I was trembling and knew for the next few days, I'd probably not be able to eat.
Cheery stuff to say the least. I had chest pains. And with labored breath. Atop one of the most embarrassing moments of romantic profession still ahead of me asleep on the couch in the other room. She was still drunk as well. Passed out cold. I think the natural state of her being is similar to mine. I think we shared a lot of denial and pain. And we kid that alcohol is functional in ANY capacity. I bragged about posting blogs about hangover workouts, she upped me by saying, just put vodka in your water bottle when you go to the gym. Do we sound like rational grown adults? AND she's only 25 years old. That means, by the time she's my age...well, I'll just say it, she may not live to be my age.
Okay, repeat to myself, DO NOT DRAW FROM EMOTIONAL WELL WHILE DETOXING. I mean, this sucks. You feel like a noodle. Your brain is foggy and completely weak everywhere. The panic hits hard. Anxiety in the worst case. Because your body's fuel was running on alcohol. I knew it isn't suppose to end like this. I shoved a few melatonins down my throat and chugged some mineral water. I'm sure I was ashen gray.
When I say alcohol is more of a physical thing, I meant, my mind hated the stuff. But my body needed it. And the pain that comes with not having it in your system is indescribable, as I can only say, it feels like a very fat person sitting on your chest, and then they're carrying a very fat baby.
It's sickness. I still feel "off" two days later. I read recently that people who have tried to quit cold turkey have sometimes gone into cardiac arrest. As if they needed to gradually come off alcohol rather than the whole kitten-kaboodle. In fact, I read that's how Amy Winehouse died. Seizures from the depletion of alcohol from her system. What irony.
Detox sucks, people. I mean, royally sucks balls. I mean, I think about whether I would be miserable and drunk or miserable and sober. I think miserable and drunk is much better. But least healthiest. I think they seem to keep the demons at bay. Or at least pickle my brain in to believing it's only distilled water. Ugh.
I read a lot on the internet about other's experience. Some of it really sad and scary stuff. Fatty livers and cirrhosis. All ugly boogeyman stories. Hell Larry Hagman lived to 81 with someone else's liver and died of throat cancer. Some of my fellow drinkers never make it out.
The bar I go to, has this bartender. Must be in his 70's. He would pour me shots of Johnny Walker, but his hands trembled so hard, I would usually get only half of what he poured. Yet, no one in that bar seems to notice this but me. I think, they all seem to know the truth. And this man will die from drinking. To them, it may be noble. For me, I'd rather crap my pants and die from sex with an angry hooker than in the gutter with a bottle of scotch. At least I'd have gone out shooting.
No comments:
Post a Comment