I have a feeling we are not in Kansas anymore.
In fact, I don’t think we are even in Oz.
And we all know about The Wizard, right?
The Abridged Version:
One day, I woke up and discovered The Wizard (the other alcoholic in my life) isn’t all-powerful and all-knowing. He is a drunk. So, I went to Al-Anon.
When I couldn’t fix The Wizard, I started looking at myself.
A year and a half later, I woke up and discovered I am a drunk, too. Surprise! So, I went to Alcoholics Anonymous.
The Full-Text Version:
I am an A-Student, Over-Educated, Confirmed-Geek, Nose-in-a-Book, Good-Girl, Perfectionist who feels like I don’t belong. Think: Dorothy in her gingham blue jumper running away with Toto in the wicker basket.
At least, that’s the facade I present. And, for awhile, it worked.
Little did I know, my alcoholism was hiding, waiting, watching for me. Think: Wicked Witch on her broom screeching, “I’ll get you, my pretty.”
I was sixteen when I drank myself into my first blackout with wine coolers from plastic two liter bottles–fast-acting and sweet-tasting. When the bottles were gone, I went searching for more. The friend hosting the party said I couldn’t drink his mom’s tequila, vodka, rum, scotch, brandy, drain cleaner (OK, the drain cleaner is an exaggeration, but the rest of the story is true). So, I threw up in his toilet and forgot to flush. I counted my toes while I sat on the front porch. I wanted to make sure they were all there and hadn’t run away. The next morning, my toes were still attached to my feet. So, I guess the counting worked.
I don’t remember the night. The story comes from my friends who had only one or two drinks. They aren’t my friends anymore.
I was seventeen when I mixed beer with Peach Nehi because I hated the taste of beer. The peach flavor along with my craving to belong (not to mention that whole I’m an alcoholic thing) over-powered the bitter taste of the beer. The mix was half and half, at first: more peachy than beery. Then, more beery than peachy. And, then, just beer. Straight up.
I was eighteen when wrote in my journal: “I really hadn’t planned on drinking last night. In fact, I wasn’t going to drink just to see if I could resist. Then I had just one drink and then another and another and another until I was a blubbering, babbling drunk. I am afraid if I don’t get some control I am going to become an alcoholic, if I’m not already.”
I was twenty-one when I married The Wizard. It was love at first drink. He bought me 25-cent cups of beer at a college party. He was cheap. I was easy. We were great together for a lot of years. Drinking is what we did and we did it with the grace and ease of… well, with the grace and ease of a couple of alcoholics in denial.
Life was good… until it wasn’t.
I was thirty-nine when I began to find The Wizard’s bottles of Southern Comfort hidden somewhere near his affairs (the love kind).
I went to Al-Anon thinking I was simply The Wife of an Alcoholic. My time in those meetings taught me to look fearlessly in the mirror. And what I saw shocked the hell out of me.
I thought as long as I didn’t drink as much as The Wizard, I couldn’t be an alcoholic.
I didn’t hide my bottles. Unless, of course, I count those empties I tucked in the garbage the morning-after so no one would know. Oh, and there were the little blackouts when I didn’t remember how I got to bed. And the drinking alone. And the drinking together. And the drinking because I was in a sh*tty marriage. And the drinking because I deserved it.
I was forty when I walked into my first AA meeting–scared, shaking, ashamed, hurt, angry, and alone. My willingness followed a few days later. It is my willingness to grow along spiritual lines that keeps me in meetings, even in those moments when I am not convinced I belong. The people in those rooms have something I don’t yet understand; and, they make me laugh at myself. So, I keep coming back.
5 comments
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August 14, 2012 at 1:22 pm
dennie2356
Hi, Dorothy-
I’m brand new to Word Press as of last evening. In between duties at work today I’m sneaking peeks at how to set up my blog, blog topics, etc., and I stumbled across your post. It’s well written and compelling and I think you’re not only on the road to recovery, but to awesome writing career as well.
I too, am in recovery. My story is similar to yours, but different, like those of us in the rooms. I came into AA at 41, and will have fifteen years on December 28- a helluva time, by the way, to stop drinking, but I’ve never been known to make things easy for myself. I, too, was getting ready to divorce my husband and drinking partner of twenty-plus years. Sobriety gave me the courage to leave him. Ours was the relationship of the perfect storm. Me-a co-dependent, irresponsible, immature star gazing twenty three year old looking for someone to take care of me and he, a co-dependent, insecure, driven, control freak with mother issues. Check that-women issues.Our life revolved around drinking, but as I became increasingly unhappy and the booze provided increasingly less comfort, I knew I had to do something. Therapy and anti-depressants helped, but not enough. I had to find the answer within myself.
That was 1999. Today, I am happily sober, happily married to a new man who will be celebrating 5 years of sobriety this weekend, (yes-I married ANOTHER alcoholic!) and happily-a member of Al-Anon. I started attending eighteen months ago and the difference in my outlook is incredible. I’m still a spaz sometimes, but I can generally get a grip within a reasonable amount of time. I made the mistake of going off my anti-depressant last April, which was okay as long as summer fed my soul with warm weather, intoxicating fragrances and songbirds. But she is making ready to depart, and with her anticipated absence comes the darkening of my mind. So it was that two weeks ago I beat feet back to the pharmacy and things are looking up once again.
My life is busy and full, and I’ve been making excuses for reasons not to write for too long. I had attempted a blog with Google-a number of them, in fact, but didn’t stick with it. The WP set up instructions include some info on finding a focus, which is my intention, but I’m concerned I won’t have a topic to keep me focused for the long haul. I applaud your efforts, and envy your work. It’s really good and I love the Oz analogy.
Good luck to you! I’ll check back to see how you’re doing but as for now if I want to remain employed, I’d better get my butt back to work.
August 14, 2012 at 2:02 pm
dorothyrecovers
Thank you for your comments, Dennie. It does sound like we have similar stories. Good luck with your recovery and your blogging. I have found that my writing is an essential part of my healing. Feel free to email me (my email address is at the bottom of the left side bar) if I can help with any of your blogging questions.
November 23, 2013 at 8:04 am
Lisa Veenhof
Dennie, what is your site? I too just started blogging. I am not a writer, but I qualify because I have been sober. Quite a while. Your story is similar to my own, as is Dorothy…….whom I picked to read because I love Wizard of Oz….weird I know. Thanks for sharing…..Lisa
June 11, 2013 at 1:37 pm
dcardiff
Hi Dorothy, I too am in recovery. If you ever need someone to write to, about anything. I am an empathetic person who has seen and heard it all. Please don’t hesitate.
Cheers,
Dennis
June 11, 2013 at 1:39 pm
dorothyrecovers
Thanks, Dennis.