Alcohol - How do I know if it's Substance Use Disorder vs. problem drinking?

In light of the recent article I shared on the Pink Hi-Top Adventures Facebook page, I thought I'd repost (with very minor edits) this one - originally published back in 2013. Please note - as always - this is based on my own personal experience.

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I'm often asked how it was that I knew I was an alcoholic when I first quit drinking. After all, I wasn't exactly the image most people have in their heads when they think "addict". I wasn't an angry drunk - I never beat my children. I held down a job. I didn't drink early in the day or in the morning. I didn't drink in bars - didn't do "happy hour". I didn't hide my wine - in fact I reveled in the notion that I was a connoisseur {or so I fancied myself.}

Me with my Ex...and a perm! - hey, it was the mid-90s!

But I did spend my adult life trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. I wanted to drink as I pleased AND be a happy, healthy, fit, confident, successful woman...but it wasn't working. 

In my mid-30s, I began to see a therapist for panic attacks, anxiety, and low self-esteem. I thought I'd be able to root up some childhood trauma, hold it up to the light of reason, and watch my anxiety turn to dust like a vampire at dawn. Instead, I began the long journey of peeling away the layers to expose the diseases within. 

Apparently, my therapist suspected a substance abuse problem early on. She challenged me on several occasions to forgo the drink, but I could never follow through with the commitment. In fact, though I heard her most of the time, I repressed her words almost instantly.

Finally, after failing yet another self-control challenge, I agreed to at least be evaluated by a substance abuse counselor. I thought I could finally put the discussion to rest, learn how to drink moderately, and continue my "hobby". 

The counselor asked several questions, and at the end of the evaluation, told me he thought I "could benefit from the program". I looked at him dumbfounded, so he handed me a sheet with the definitions of abuser vs. addict to see what I thought. {See bottom of post.} I was certain that I was an abuser and simply needed help getting back on track with "healthy drinking" - after all, wasn't I doing myself a favor in choosing red wine over beer? 

First, I read the traits of abuse and could relate to most. Then, I read through addiction and my world came crashing down. My eyes filled with unstoppable tears. The divorce proceedings had begun.

In early outpatient treatment, much of my "work" was spent examining the evidence that I was not a normal drinker. Diagnosis buy-in {admitting I had a problem} was step one.

Over the next few weeks, the evidence mounted. I'll share with you some of what I revealed to myself - in no particular order. 

I knew I was an alcoholic, because: 

• I felt uncomfortable, nay, damn irritable at parties, weddings, or other events at which no alcohol was served; and I would limit time spent there.
• And if I knew in advance that alcohol was not on the menu at the occasion, I would drink before and after.
• I drank everyday - my dose was 1 - 3 glasses of red wine.
• At special occasions {i.e., parties, weddings, funerals, holidays, Fridays, Saturdays...} I drank as much as I pleased. 
• I could almost always drink more than any other {non-alcoholic} woman - and many men - the latter, a point in which I took great pride.
• I felt uncomfortable and cranky almost nightly when my husband wouldn't have a drink with me at dinner.
• If given the choice of food or wine at a party, I chose wine first.
• I could never understand how some people can have just 1 or 2 drinks or leave behind a half-full glass. It made me uncomfortable and gnawed at my core.
• If my husband or I went out to dinner and the place we chose had no alcohol on the menu, I would be irritable and bitch about finding another restaurant.
• My dresser and night stand were littered with wine glasses almost all the time.

  

  ©Jenny Ondioline

• My kitchen decor was a grapes / wine motif. 
• If I thought, for example, that a piece of chicken I ate was a little too pink inside, I would take a shot of Stoli {vodka} that I kept in the freezer - to kill any salmonella bacteria I may have ingested, of course! [When I shared this in group, my counselor told me he had never in all his years heard this one before!]
• If the weather forecast called for a possible hurricane or snowstorm, the first mental planning I did was an assessment of how much wine I had left, and how much I should pick up - forget the bread, milk, eggs, bottled water, and batteries that everyone else foolishly stocked up on!
• Every day on my ride home, my thoughts would turn to how much wine I had in the house, and whether or not I needed to pick up any.
• Once, we were invited to the wedding of a good friend; and it was held at a vineyard. Since it was a weekend wedding extravaganza, we rented a house with our other friends who drank as well. So...I brought from home five bottles of pricey red wine to have on hand...just in case, you know. I kept my stash in the car, however, since it was back-up. Just in case I ran out of booze...at a vineyard.
• I had rules around my drinking, e.g., "I don't drink before the evening", "I only drink 1 - 3 glasses on week nights", "I only {mostly} drink red wine - it is healthy for the heart and prevents cancer", "I don't hang out in bars, unless it's a special occasion", "I don't drink and drive" {unless I have to...}, "I don't drink hard liquor" {unless I ate under-cooked meat, or unless there's nothing else to drink!}, "I don't hide my wine - only alcoholics hide their booze. Please note - normal drinkers do not need rules.
• I always thought, "I'm not an alcoholic...I'm not like them...I can control my drinking"...yet I never really could. Every time I started a health / fitness program and challenged myself to forgo booze until the weekend, I could not do it. Here are three separate days in a row from my 2005 fitness log: 

 

I am very grateful to be 15 years sober on November 18, 2020. It was only through quitting drinking that I was able to heal my body and begin the long, long process of healing my mind and soul as well.

Chemical addiction does not go away without help, and will leave you empty, lonely, very sick, mentally ill, incarcerated, and / or dead. Please think about this - especiallyif you can relate to any of what I wrote. Seek assistance from a therapist or counselor. I promise that it is brighter on the other side - and waaaay more fun!!!

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*Handouts from that first recovery center interview - taken from the Diagnostic & Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 4th Ed. Copyright 1994, American Psychiatric Association:

*UPDATE: The above sheets are a good overview of addiction symptoms vs. abuse symptoms; howeveer, keep in mind they are older diagnostic sheets; the DSM-V (the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders {5th revision} of the American Psychiatric Association) has since categorize symptoms and diagnosis a little differently. 

Brain Cancer Sucks

Dear Readers:

A million and ten times over the last year I said I was getting back to blogging, but never 
did. As I mentioned at one point in a previous post, I've been going through some emotionally trying times with a suffering loved one. [See Pat Clarke - written by his best friend, my husband Greg.] Though it consumed me and I desperately wanted to write about it, I also didn't want to share too much out of respect for his privacy - until now.

My brother is dying of Gliomatosis Cerebri - one of the rarest forms of brain cancer. {God! I've never used that verb before when referring to his illness!}

As you may well know, staying out of the Vortex of major depression and addiction has been (and always will be) a constant battle. This past year, however, tested the strength of my recovery more than any other time in my life thus far. So now more than ever, I need to return to blogging as cathartic therapy. I'll share with you what I've been learning as I've walked (and still walk) this long, hard journey with my little brother. 

Additionally, as soon as possible, I'll be updating to a new blog site and expanding the content to include a broader range of topics such as: brain cancer, grief, and more of an emphasis on maintaining mental wellness in general.

That's all I've got energy for now. Have a happy and healthy week! 

Love, 

Karen

Dressin' My Way Up

I have A LOT of studying to do this weekend. Got a little {actually waaaay} behind after being under the weather this week.

And when I woke up this morning, I could feel the grey shadow of depression creeping over me, and once again, I almost caved in. Then I remembered my KWRAP {Karen's Wellness Recovery Action Plan} - a toolbox of recovery maintenance techniques.

Yes, I had to do the cliche, cheesy selfie...

One of my tools to stave off depression is to "dress up". This entails taking a shower, getting dresssed, doing my hair, and putting on a little make-up. Now, I'm not suggesting that we need to get all dolled up every time we make a public appearance. It's just that self-care is one of the things that goes out the window with depression. Sometimes forcing oneself to take a shower, getting out of pajamas or sweats, and prettying up a bit can go a long way toward a better outlook.

This is what I did this morning. Hadn't showered in about four days {sorry, I know...}, but I reluctantly got myself into the shower, put on an outside-of-the-home outfit and a little make-up, and now I'm feeling more ready to tackle the day.

Big Day - Update!

Well, I have an update from my job interview detailed in the post, Big Day. Though I did not get the job for which I interviewed, they were very impressed with me and have subsequently put me on the short list for the next opening! 

In the meantime, I have decided to volunteer there as a temporary group facilitator. I will be teaching life skills, success tools, and recovery tips to clients recovering from various mental illnesses. I start next Monday, working two days a week.

My First Speech

Hi all! Sorry...yet again...that I haven't blogged in a while! I have been crazy busy with school. One of the things that I did this week, was participate in a panel discussion about my journey to and through NOVA (my college).

Thought I'd share with you the spiel I gave since it is about my mental health and addiction journey:

My name is Karen Clarke. My journey to and through NOVA is a rather convoluted one. It all began in 1988 – back when NOVA was still on the quarter system! I had just partied myself out of another college, and NOVA was there to catch me.

My first two semesters here went rather well. I had all A’s, and I met my best friend. Then I became pregnant. As a single mom, I quit school and went to work.

I did not entirely give up on the college dream, though. On and off for the next ten years (more off than on) I took a class here and there. My grades, however, were a mixed bag. I either had an A, a W, or an F – much like my grades at my previous college. I had always been a bright underachiever. My A’s were from times when I made it through an entire semester. My W’s were from withdrawing, and my F’s were from failing to withdraw – rather than earned Fs.

Meanwhile, I was job hopping as well. I never spent more than two years in a job. Like my courses, I had always struggled with attendance. When I was on the job, or in class, I was an outstanding employee or student. There were many days, however, when I simply could not get out of bed and face the day; so I would call in sick or skip class.

In 2000, I quit yet another job and returned to school full-time. This time, I managed to do well enough to transfer into George Mason. Life was good. I had an internship at the Smithsonian’s paleobiology lab through my NOVA geology professor, and my grades were great.

Shortly after transferring to Mason in the fall of 2001, things fell apart. September 11 struck; and I found myself on campus so anxious that there would be a terrorist attack – GMU being a large campus in the shadow of Washington. I had always been anxious, though – sitting by the door in all my classes just in case I had to leave, but this was more anxiety than I had ever felt. I also began having panic attacks.

After three semesters of the A, W, F cycle, I was academically suspended from Mason.

I went back to work, but I was miserable. Having panic attacks, the bright underachiever stuck in a dead-end job, unable to do the things I claimed I wanted.

That is when I realized I was incapable of helping myself – that I needed help.

I began seeing a therapist in 2004. I thought I’d be able to quickly root up some childhood incident, disable it, and begin living the life I’d always dreamed.

But it wasn’t quite that simple.

Early on, my therapist began questioning my drinking habits. I tuned it out for the most part – after all, I didn’t have a problem. I was a wine aficionado – not an alcoholic. I never drank before five. I never drank on the job. Never beat my children. I held many volunteer positions – Girl Scouts, PTA – and never drank during those. I just knew the difference between a smooth Merlot and a robust Pinot Noir.

But I had to admit – the panic attacks continued - that nagging, constant anxiety was there. And there was the repeat absenteeism at work and in class. Oh, and my 5 year old saying to me in Giant one day, “boy Mommy, you sure do love wine!” as she glanced over the basket filled with bottles.

Finally in the fall of 2005, I agreed to go to a treatment center for an assessment. After all, I was sure they would tell me I was an abuser – not an addict – and they would teach me how to drink safely.

Well, it didn’t work out that way. I discovered that I was indeed an alcoholic. I entered outpatient treatment in November and it was one of the best things to happen to me.

I thought for sure this time I had hit the nail on the head – that this was the thing that was stopping me up…but it wasn’t.

Though the panic attacks were gone, the absenteeism continued…A…W…F…I remained in therapy, but nothing was changing.

Fast forward to August 2012. My family and I had just returned from a relaxing vacation in Wyoming. My husband and daughter were rested, refreshed, and glad to be home. I was uptight, anxious, and dreaded returning to the stress pit of Washington.

I felt trapped in my life. I was at the end of my rope with myself. I was beginning to think that at age 45, I was not going to change. That I was beyond help. After all, I had been in therapy for 8 years!

Feeling helpless and trapped, I began having fantasies about flying off my DC office building – about what it would feel like to jump onto the Metro tracks. I finally confessed this to my husband because I didn’t trust myself; and I didn’t want to emotionally scar a Metro driver or hurt any passengers. 

That night, I went to the Inova ER. Two days later I was in partial hospitalization – PHP. There I was diagnosed with major depression, generalized anxiety disorder, and dysthymia (long term, low grade depression). This too was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I spent a month there, and while I was there, began rethinking my career goals. Much like I was at the recovery center, I found myself in group listening and speaking as a patient and paying attention to the group dynamics. There was one patient in particular who never talked – no matter how they tried to draw her in. I reached out to her though, and one day on break she opened up to me. After that, she participated in group like the rest of us. This incident was pivotal.

For the first time, I began to see my life experience, not as wasted years, but as on-the-job training. I realized then and there that my calling was to be a therapist. I wanted to give back what I had been given in recovery and at PHP.

I quit my job in May 2013, and returned to NOVA full time. I will be graduating this spring with my AS, Social Science, psychology and will be receiving a Substance Abuse Counseling Certificate in December.

NOVA has been a God-send. No matter where I was in the journey, I was always able to turn to NOVA to reinvent.

My goals for the future? To be a psychologist working with dual-diagnosis patients – those with addiction and underlying mental health disorders and I hope to one day open my own wellness center.

The Raging River

I woke up this morning with the image of a glass of garnet colored wine in my mind. I could taste it on my tongue; I could smell the earthy cork...

Then I caught myself. Even eight years into recovery, I occasionally get a reminder that the gremlin is still alive and well deep inside me, just waiting for me to slip up. Just one drop on the tongue and the ground beneath me could crumble. 

Well, relapse isn't quite that simple. It comes much earlier than the actual drink, pill, shot, or smoke. Relapse begins when we fail to attend to our recovery on a daily basis.

My recovery counselor said that we are always relapsing; and he shared a great metaphor with us: Envision a raging river leading up to a waterfall. The river is the power of our addiction; and in order to maintain recovery, we must always be rowing upstream. The moment we stop, we slip closer to the waterfall. The waterfall, however, is the act of drinking, e.g., though, and not the relapse. The relapse occurs much earlier - somewhere in the rapids. The question we must always ask ourselves is how close are we to the edge. If we are too close, we better start rowing!

What do we do to row and get further upstream? Here are some ideas:

• Go to a meeting (AA, NA, GA, any support group)
• Tell someone who understands and is familiar with your addiction. Heck, if you have no one, contact me! pink.hi.tops@gmail.com  I'd be happy to chat with you!!
• Get that bloody 8 hours of sleep a night!!! 
• Limit the simple sugars in your diet. Eat a protein- / complex carb-balanced diet which includes lots of vegetables and fruits.
• Drink half your body weight (pounds) in ounces of water.
• Exercise - especially aerobic (e.g., running, walking, Zumba, aerobics, cycling).
• Pour yourself into a hobby.
• Read something inspiring.
• Laugh! Watch a comedy (preferably not Cheech and Chong's Up in Smoke...)
• Get out into nature: Touch and feel the bark on a tree! Smell a flower! Look at the beautiful waterfalls and feel the spray on your face. Listen to the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore and the seagulls screeching above. Look up into the night sky and count the number of satellites you see. You get the picture...
• Connect with an animal. Dogs, cats, horses, and other pets are wonderful therapists!
• Now that I think about it, connect with your therapist; and if you don't have one, get one.

So now that I've had that dream, where am I on the river? How close am I to the falls? Which of the above am I going to do today to keep myself rowing?

Pink Hi-Tops

I recently had a request from a reader (thanks Erin!) about why hi-tops and why pink? Well here's why:

In august 2012, I was diagnosed with major depression. I was also diagnosed with dysthymia {long-term, low-grade depression} and anxiety disorder. In September of that year, I checked into partial hospitalization mental health care, and was fortunate enough to have been treated by very caring and enlightened doctors. Since then, I have been emerging from the grey veil of depression and anxiety that shrouded my self-awareness for almost four decades. {I’m 47 now.}

This blog is a chronicle of my continuous recovery and progress toward achieving my goals. With it, I hope to inspire and inform those suffering from depression, anxiety, and addiction with personal stories, resources, and a little humor!

The blog title is inspired by my favorite pair of Converse Chuck Taylor's that I wore when I last felt my happiest and freest. 

"Pink" is the color of those original hi-tops. When I was depressed (before treatment), I tended to wear only to blacks, whites, and greys in my clothing color choices. Now I find I love different colors - especially pink. Pink represents innocence, fun, and lightheartedness - something that I am now experiencing in recovery.

The "Adventures" part of the title is the part of the blog in which I will chronicle my new adventures with a recovering brain. I haven't done a lot of that yet. Most of this blog has been a record of my daily ups and downs in recovery and a little psycho-education; but I think I'd like to share some of my life experiences (adventures) in recovery as well. Look for it in the coming weeks.

So that is it. The why of the title, pink hi-top adventures! 


If you have any ideas for posts that you would like to see, feel free to post them here on the blog or on the Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/pages/Pink-Hi-Top-Adventures/411429458973219?ref=hl), or email me at pink.hi.tops@gmail.com.

Adjusting Course

I was still struggling last week to keep out of the gravity of the Vortex...thus the lack of blogging. It finally got to a point where I had to see my therapist and psychiatrist. I simply could not un-rut myself.

Even though I am definitely better than I was a little over a year ago, my therapist says my thinking is obsessive and I over-analyze myself and my environment.

I met with my psychiatrist too, and he tweaked my meds. He reminded me about the importance of taking medication at the same time everyday, which I had not been doing. He also reminded me about the importance of proper sleep hygiene - turning off the TV, computer, and any glowing monitors/screens about one hour before bed-time, and settling down into quiet time before getting a full-night's sleep (8 hours).

Since, I met with him on Friday, I have been doing this; and dare I say, I am feeling a little better already. I wasn't tired and wiped out when I woke up this morning. I felt...refreshed!

I may have been blogging about this topic for almost a year now, but I don't think I had fully bought into the notion that I have a disease. My depression and anxiety is a psychological and physical disease that requires treatment and lifestyle modifications - much in the same way as heart disease or diabetes. I have said it over and over, but I am only now believing it. And now I'm going to make real progress in my recovery!

My Regret

With most things in life, we learn from our mistakes and are able to apply this learning again in the future. The one area in life where this is not the case is parenting. You learn from your mistakes along the way, but unless you have 12 kids, you can't apply this new knowledge again. Once childhood passes, it's a done deal. No going back!

I find myself lamenting all the years when I was actively alcoholic and dysthmic*. I was never an abusive parent, and I did the best I could, but I was not as present as I am now. Now that I am recovering and moving in the right direction, my children are 23 and 15 years old. I know better, but I can't do better. I can't re-do their early childhood years, and that is my biggest regret in life!

I know, I know. I need to let go and accept that the past is unchangeable, and that the only thing I can control are my actions in the present...but still, it makes me sad.




*Dysthymia is a low-grade, long-term depression. For more on dysthymia, see: http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/dysthymia/DS01111. 

Cracking the Shell

Exactly one year ago yesterday, my husband took me to the emergency room, because I hadn't gotten out of bed in two weeks and because I shared with him that I had comforting fantasies about falling down the stairs or off a building.

I recall sitting there in the emergency waiting room, along with the broken arm, seizure, and heart attack cases thinking that I was just taking up precious hospital time when they had other patients to care for that were far worse than I. Never mind the fact that I had been considering permanently removing myself to get out of everyone's way.

I remember looking around the room at all the faces, the people with trauma, the pregnant women in labor, the families concerned about loved ones...it all seemed surreal at that point. I was hollow on the inside and I was using up most of my energy just to sit slumped in a vinyl-padded chair.

When the check-in nurse called my name, I drifted across the room like a ghost. She looked up at me and asked, "Are you thinking of hurting anyone? Are you thinking of hurting yourself?" To the former, of course not! I'd never hurt anyone else. In fact, I didn't trust myself on a Metro platform because I didn't want to risk mentally scarring or hurting the Metrorail driver if ever I...fell. And hurt myself? The adverb "now" seemed implied, so I replied "No". Had she added "recently" or "lately" or "will you in the next 24 hours", I'd have to say "yes".

When they finally called me back, I remember just being embarrassed. Like I had no right to take up bed space. I felt ashamed that I couldn't just get off my ass and get on with life.

Finally the doctor came in. He was one of the kindest doctors I've ever met. He gently asked, "How are you doing?" Putting his hand on my shoulder, he sat down on the bed next to me. That simple gesture of compassion cracked my emotionless shell. With a lump in my throat, I proceeded to share my story.

Bottom line, I was referred to the Partial Hospitalization Program (PHP) at the hospital's Behavioral Health Services. And thus began my journey back to me.

Fast forward to today. I am feeling down again - not nearly like I was that fateful day, but down. I was even beginning to wonder if the medication is not working; however, the truth is, I am well overall. I now have the tools to get myself up again; and that's just what I'm gonna do.

Wellness Part II: Social

{Waaaay back on April 26, I posted Wellness Part I: Physical. As promised, here (finally!) is Part II...}

One of the most critical factors to both my recovery from alcohol addiction and my depression/anxiety recovery has been social connections. Having supportive family, friends, and spouse, and connecting with others going through the same issues has helped me break out of the vicious cycle of isolation and has given me the strength to keep recovering. 

But what do you do if you don't have such a network already in place? Reach out and find one:

1.  The internet, as you know, is full of resources; and support groups abound. Here are just a very few of those out there:

• Addiction Support Groups

Alcoholics Anonymous (AA): www.aa.org

Narcotics Anonymous (NA): www.na.org

Gamblers Anonymous (GA): http://www.gamblersanonymous.org/ga/

•  Depression  & Anxiety Support Groups

National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI): http://www.nami.org/Template.cfm?section=Find_Support

PsychCentral:

Depression - http://psychcentral.com/resources/Depression/Support_Groups/

Anxiety - http://psychcentral.com/resources/Anxiety_and_Panic/Support_Groups/

Anxiety and Depression Association of America (ADAA):

http://www.adaa.org/finding-help/getting-support/support-groups/online-phone

2.  Check out the resources in your community as well. Churches and hospitals have support groups for addiction and mental illness; primary care doctors have resources at their finger tips; and colleges and schools have support groups and resources available in their counseling centers. Just ask.

3.  Drop me a note on Facebook, (https://www.facebook.com/pages/Pink-Hi-Top-Adventures/411429458973219), leave a comment here, or email me at pink.hi.tops@gmail.com. I'd love to connect with you!

Whatever you do, don't allow yourself to stay isolated. Connections strengthen us and provide the framework upon which solid recovery is built. 

Change Is Possible

Seven and a half years ago, I found myself sitting in a room full of strangers, shoulders slumped, emptied of tears, and hollow - devastated that I would never drink again and wondering how I was ever going to do it.

On Tuesday night, I sat in the same room of strangers, only this time they were asking me how it is that they will never drink or use again. This time I was the counseling intern and not the patient.

Life is indeed a crazy adventure! So much has changed over these seven years, but none of it would be possible had I not let go of some of my false beliefs and behaviors, and trusted in the possibility of change itself.

You see, change is possible; but we must be willing to make it happen and we must be willing to let it happen. Ultimately, we must be willing to take a blind leap of faith into unknown territory and trust that the best will come of it.

Good Things Come...

It feels good, really good when the grip of depression and anxiety begins to release through treatment and recovery. The high one gets from having the soul reanimate one's body and mind is exquisite, but it apparently precedes a slight dip in the road when one discovers that real work still lies ahead.

I think that is where I am now. I have made great strides in overcoming social anxiety and depression, but if I want to take my life to the next level of growth, I will have to work...and I think it scares me a bit. Lately, I find myself procrastinating college coursework in particular.

What have you been procrastinating? What is stopping you from progressing to the next level of growth in your life? Whatever it is, commit to doing just one small thing toward that goal and see what happens.

I commit to doing one unit of Pre-Calculus tomorrow. What will you do? {Feel free to comment with your answer if you are feeling bold!}

Lifeline

I got a sinking feeling in my stomach all of a sudden...am I really just a pill away from engulfing darkness? a pill away from despair and the gnawing jaws of anxiety? it is a scary thought. 

Today I heard from a friend I met in PHP last fall. It was so good to hear her voice again, because she is a wonderful person, and because I often think of her and pray she is doing well.

I pray for everyone I grew close to in my group. After all, we were emotionally tethered to each other for our very lives. In about two and a half weeks, we came to know each other on a deeper, more profound plane than I could have imagined possible for total strangers. This is because we understood each other. We understood the hollow pain, the dark voice that gnawed within, grating on our psyches, and the dire steps we were willing to take to make it all go away.

Hearing her voice again was cathartic. I was so relieved to learn that she was doing well, and I shared with her a little of my progress too.

But the conversation left me tinged with mild sadness. The gray ache in the back of my throat, almost forming a lump - knowing that my illness {like hers and that of all our group buddies} is a sleeping dragon just waiting to awake - knowing that the only thing keeping it from waking is daily diligence to our medication schedule, therapy, self-care, and personal growth...and a concerted effort to maintain the bonds of love that keep us all together. 

Tonight I am also feeling very grateful for those bonds... 

Recovery Step #2: Sleep, Damn It!

Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care

The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath

Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,

Chief nourisher in life’s feast.

- William Shakespeare, Macbeth

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Walking around with frog eyes, feeling like my head’s in a fishbowl, repeating myself in conversations, repeating myself...oh...and forgetting what I’m doing when mid-task: this is me without sufficient sleep.

Sleep disorders are symptomatic of depression, to be sure; but I think the number one thing you can do for yourself and your sanity is to get a good night’s sleep, damn it! For me it makes all the difference in the world – in fact, the benefit is exponential!

ME after a night of 5-hours of sleep...

Adults need between 7 – 9 hours good sleep each night. According to Dr. Timothy Morgenthaler, M.D. of the Mayo Clinic [see MayoClinic.com]: 

Although some people claim to feel rested on just a few hours of sleep at night, research shows that people who sleep so little over many nights don't perform as well on complex mental tasks as do people who get closer to seven hours of sleep at night. Additionally, studies among adults show that getting much more or less than seven hours of sleep a night is associated with a higher mortality rate.

Did you read that...don't perform as well on complex mental tasks....higher mortality rate!

Make no mistake about it, neither you nor I can get well and stay well without healthy sleep habits. But what are good sleep habits anyway?

The Mayo Clinic suggests the following 7 steps for a healthful sleep (see MayoClinic.com):

1.  Stick to a sleep schedule: Even on weekends and, yes, holidays; hard to do, but I'll give it a try.  

2. Pay attention to what you eat and drink: Don’t eat too close to bedtime, don’t go to bed hungry either; and watch the nicotine, caffeine, or alcohol intake. Frankly, in my opinion, regarding the nicotine and alcohol…don’t even!! just DON’T EVEN!!! {More on that in a future post.}

ME after a night of 7.5 hours sleep :)

3. Create a bedtime ritual: Create a soothing, quiet ritual to help you wind down - take a warm bath, read, meditate, or say your prayers. It works great for children, and works well for you and me too!

4. Get comfortable: Having a comfy bed with snuggly comforter, pillows, and PJs encourage good sleep {no problem for me here!}

5. Limit daytime naps: This one goes out to my husband...

6. Add physical activity to your daily routine: Preferably early in the day, so you are not too energized at bedtime.

7. Manage stress: Yes, I know, I know – easier said than done, but a crucial part of healthy sleep.

And of course, as the Mayo Clinic adds, if you continue to have difficulty getting to sleep, staying asleep, or waking up in the morning, see a doctor. 

{It’s important to remind you here too: I am NOT a doctor; I am not a psychologist or licensed counselor; I am a patient just searching for (and sharing) ways to get well.}

Acceptance

I think it was Oprah that once said, forgiveness is letting go of the notion that the past can be anything other than what it is. It is not necessarily being happy or content with what happened or with what another person - or you yourself - did or said, but rather simply accepting the fact that there's nothing you can do to change the past. It is what it is.

I have experienced so many mixed emotions in recovery from depression, anxiety, and alcohol addiction: the joy of rediscovering LIFE and reconnecting with my {real} self, as well as fear of the unknown...and the feeling of loss...of being cheated...of missing out on days, months, and years.

I awoke this morning struggling with the latter - trying to accept that dysthymia, anxiety, and alcoholism are diseases of the brain and not character flaws - trying to forgive myself, the genetic cards I was dealt, and the people and circumstances that converged in my head last September in the perfect mental storm that landed me in the hospital.

But, I know...today is a new day. Today I will do my best to forgive and to accept...somehow.

Design by Quotable Cards Inc.

Continuing on from Recovery Step #1 (see 2/26/13 post):

You will never, ever, EVER get well unless you are willing to risk. Make no mistake about it, change is scary; but you must take a leap into what feels like the unknown, and trust in a Power higher than yourself. Trust your doctors, trust those who love you, trust your God - trust that you can get better. Trust that on the other side of darkness there is light. Trust that LIFE is better than stagnation and disintegration.

Leap and your net will appear!

Thoughts from My Addiction

This is a poem I wrote at about 8-months sober - when I was sometimes a very angry two-year old in the body of a woman – bargaining with God and throwing a tantrum whenever I thought about a lifetime of sobriety. This homage to my “Ex” was written during such a tantrum…interesting to see, not only the addiction talking, but the depression seeking its own balm.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

i

"My Addiction", by PHT, done in group therapy
Copyright 2006

am

alone

i was born alone

            i cry alone

                        i’ll die alone

i am an alcoholic…alone

alone in a crowded meeting,

as everyone around me is brow-beating,

and rehashing the same story ten times over.

alone

in a group of my former “drinking buddies”,

as they nod and smile,

breathe a tinny word of encouragement,

and quickly change the subject.

alone when they turn to each other and whisper,

“oh, she’s just a hypochondriac…”

i used to be

alone with my green glass bottle,

but never felt alone.

my bottle never droned on and on and on

in self-deprecation, and never talked about me behind my back.

it just sat there

calmly

on the grocery store shelf,

waiting,

holding in it all the promise of a sunrise and the comfort of moonlight.

standing there in the store alone,

staring at the rows of shiny bottles perched

like sentinels guarding a deep, dark secret ,

gleaming like gemstones in a stream,

i reached for the shiniest.

standing in the kitchen alone,

i felt contentment well up inside me as i stuck the screw

into the soft, brown cork,

twisted it in

and…POP!

playful gurgling, as if from some mystic brook,

as the wine slipped out of the bottle,

and wound around the inside of my glass like a bloody serpent.

held to the light, it was a garnet sea.

held to my nose, a decent into the earth

                                                damp moss,

                                                            aging wood,

                                                                        cool stone,

                                                                                    brooding darkness

on my tongue

it was celestial!

i let the first sip linger for a moment

penetrating my darkness like a warm arrow,

slicing through my solitary world.

i gently swallowed and suddenly

                        i was no longer

                                               

alone

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…but you know, I truly was alone.

Addiction fostered isolation. The center of my universe, that to me was the sun, was really a black hole. No light escaped its reach and no social interaction got in the way of the drink. The drink came first.

Seductive, alluring…deceptive, it seeped into my skin and my psyche and made upside-down seem rightside-up.

I am grateful to be 7-years sober and do not want to ever go back that dark mirage again!