Red Wedding

I love Clare Pooley’s “The Sober Diaries”. She’s amazing. She is so witty. Not in the least condescending. When I read her Day 0, I laughed. She writes about how she looked down at her coffee mug filled with the remnants of a wine bottle…at 11AM. It said “World’s Best Mum” on the outside of the mug. I interpreted it as her highlighting the contradiction between the mug’s outside and the mug’s insides. The irony. She made me giggle…but then sigh. I can’t imagine what she truly felt. Those were Ms. Pooley’s raw feelings to feel. Yet, she put her story out there in the world, for the rest of us to read, to make us feel seen. Feel understood. Feel less alone. And if she meant to interject humor into her Day 0 story, then I love her even more.

But I won’t assume anyone’s Day 0 is funny. When you reach the somber realization that you NEED to stop drinking, it should never be taken lightly. I do wish, though, that there was some element of humor to my Day 0.

That day, I woke up and was irritable. Just super irritable and anxious and shaky. I wanted a drink. My body actually needed alcohol…to maintain. What a terrible realization. “STOP NOW!” my body begged. But my brain had different plans. Two more secret mini bottles down in the bathroom, and Whooooosh…. “Ah….that’s better,” said my pickled brain. I went out into the day – no buzz, not drunk – but anxiety managed…with vodka. At 11AM, nonetheless.

But later that day, when those two mini bottles wore off, I felt an excruciating jolt in my left side. I realized something in that moment. It was my liver. An actual f’n organ. My drinking was causing undeniable physical harm. On my Day 0, my liver hurt. Like Game of Thrones Red Wedding stabbing pain. Nothing about that pain (or that GoT episode) was funny.

And that was it. Here I am 9 days later. My liver is forgiving me, but I will never, ever forget that pain. I can’t. I want this blog to focus on recovery. On the future ahead, one day at a time. But I need to put down how I got here, so I won’t forget this time. And if I do, I’ll subject myself to that horrific episode of GoT again and again as punishment. You know what I’m talking about.

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