Last night we drank again. It wasn't much, just a glass of scotch and then a glass of wine several hours later. The problem for me is that even the smallest amount of alcohol has negative conequences for me. The nxt day is almost always ruined, and even if it's not ruined, I never feel that great. I usually walk around in a funk with a slight headache the entire day, wishing that it was tomorrow so I could wake up feeling good. There is absolutely no question at this point that I am still an alcoholic and drinking should not be part of my life. Unfortunately, it has become very difficult for me to stop. HAM drinks, my dad drinks daily, and now DL is in town and she drinks with my dad. Last night I actually saw her a bit toasty. I spend most of my days dreaming about the future. Future-tripping, I guess would be the unofficial term. I want to be out of this house. I refuse to blame anyone else for my choice to drink, but I will say it's a fuck of a lot harder to stop when it's always around me, on the lips of my boyfriend, a part of our lives. I don't crave alcohol, I crave health, yet I'm not addicted to health, so acheiving it is more difficult. It's so easy to just say, "fuck it" and have a drink when HAM drinks, or ask my dad for a glass of wine. It's hard to say no, it's hard to not ask, it's hard to no give in to temptation. My therapist said that he doesn't think my drinking is out of control, and he is right about that, it's not "out of control". I'm not spending my days and nights blacking out, doing regrettable things, ending up in the hospital, or even causing the slightest bit of concern in anyone around me. My therapist says, however, that I should not drink because of how it makes me feel about myself. That is a self-esteem deterrent. I agree with that, but I would add that I believe any drinking that I partake in is out of control in the sense that I have declared my desire not to drink, yet I do it anyway. I think it would be easier for me to be sober if alcohol wasn't in my home and if the people I love were not drinking so regularly. I'm sure it would also be easier if I were to return to AA, but that's just not gonna happen as long as I'm in Washington. God, I just want to get out of here. I don't believe in geographicals, I know they are something that alcoholics like to believe will work for them, but I do believe in a need for a change. I am so sick with allergies and stressed out by traffic, depressed by gray skies and constant drizzle, lonely without a dog, and angry that I am stuck living with my dad. I would take a tiny, dumpy apartment over this big, comfortable house if it meant that I was taking care of myself and making it on my own. I want it to be a year and half from now...now. God, I am sounding like such a classic AA definition of an alcoholic, but I need a place to vent and this is it. This is what all of us continue to think about, sober or not. We are all selfish, we all want what we want right now, we are inpatient, stressed out, pissed off, and resentful of our current situations. If you have a lifetime of alcoholic decisions behind you, of course you're not going to be satisfied with your present state of affairs, because the present state of affairs is a result of poor alcoholic decision making. It's not that every day is bad. It feels worse today because it is the day after doing something I have set out not to do. I have spacey and tired, weak and foggy. I just want out of this house and this city. I don't even care that I live in the Northwest anymore--it's really not the weather or the hills or the traffic, as many places have hills, bad weather, and miserable traffic. It's not the Northwest but what the Northwest represents for me. It represents failure to care for myself. It represents my old life and who I used to be. I am trying to become a new person, I even changed my name, yet here I am in my dad's house, working less than 10 hours a week, not writing as much as I should be, strung out on the internet, and drinking despite my desire for optimal health. I know the saying , "Wherever I go, there I am" is real. I don't think that moving away from here is going to "fix" me, but I do think it will be good for me. I am just so tired of waiting. I want to be there now. In AA they say, "You're exactly where you're supposed to be". Let's just say that is the truth. Then what am I to learn from my circumstances? Do I need to learn humility--should I just suck it up and go back to AA to face all the people who hurt me and let them feel so self-righteous about being kind to me, the one who relapsed? God, I can't think of anything worse. Can't I just admit that alcohol doesn't work for me without having to be around such cruel and abusive people? I would give AA a try in another state, where I wouldn't have to see those people. I know they exist everywhere, but the very specific individuals who hurt me--I don't think it would make sense for me to want to be around those people again, and eventually (for step 9) have to apologize to them, when they were the ones who are at fault. I don't know how I could ever see that differently. I was in pain and reached out for help, I showed up, I always showed up. I did my service work and I got berated for not doing it the right way. I asked for help and I got stood up twice, ignored, and rejected. I tried to make friends, as difficult as it was, and got humiliated. I just can't see myself having to be around those people again. Which is why getting away from this place would be good for me and I can't get out soon enough. I think I should look into summer writing retreats and see if there is any way I can spend the summer away from here, focused on my writing. I can't think of anything more important than writing for me, so why not. It would be the perfect excuse to escape. No one could argue with me, because it would be for my career, my future. I refuse to believe that things are going to suck forever. The future has to be better than right now, whether it's helpful to think that way or not. I will do my best to make the present bareable, but I know that the future will be better.

Well I haven't written for the last couple days because I feel like I have nothing to say. I am close to my period and not sleeping well, and of course I am hungrier than usual. Today I ate an ice cream cone with two scoops of ice cream and it was fantastic. I caught up with pretty much my only friend - PH, my old AA sponsor. She's recently separated from her husband has moved into a condo in Juanita, or is in the process of moving. I offered to help her but she said she might just invite me over as a guest, not to help her move. I told her that I'm not sober anymore and of course, she didn't judge me or try to change me, which is why we've always had such a good relationship. She just offered an ear if I ever need to talk to someone or if I am concerned about it and need someone to talk to. It's a pretty wierd thing, to go from having almost four years clean to drinking wine and smoking weed again. I can't say that I feel great about it, but I don't feel like shit either. So far it has had little to no impact on my life, and I think that's about as much space as those things should ever take up in a person's life. Before I got sober and went to AA, I let it run my life. All my decisions were based on drugs and alcohol and keeping my addiction going but under cover. The men I chose to date were always more fucked up than me, my friends were all more fucked up than me, my jobs always sucked so they were easy to just quit without warning and still feel justified in doing so. AA taught me how to be a decent human being, a productive member of society, how to care for someone other than myself without being totally codependent. It also taught me not to put all my eggs in one basket, meaning that, nothing in life can be the answer to all your problems, be it religion, drugs, a job, a person, or AA. For a while there, I let AA be the guiding force in my life, so when that stopped working, I felt like I'd lost a limb. It was extremely painful to be so let down by people I thought so highly of, especially when I needed them so desperately. It wasn't just the people that I needed - I needed structure, guidance, just help in general because I was sad and lost. I prayed more and it didn't help. I tried to get a new sponsor and one girl turned me down, another girl stood me up twice. I tried to make friends with people and they ended up rejecting me. I thought so much of the people in AA, I was brainwashed to believe they were the epitome of reformed derelicts, because I thought I was, too. I went from being a lying, stealing, cheating, selfish bitch, to volunteering every week rain or shine, not talking badly about anyone, helping anyone I could, praying every night, and following through on all my promises and commitments. Not to mention, I was as honest as I could be, wouldn't dream of cheating or stealing. I thought everyone else was as "good" as me. But I wasn't good, I was perfect, and perfect is 1) not sustainable and 2) impossible for anyone else to live up to. So I was just setting myself and everyone I encountered up to fail. And they did. And then I quit AA. But after I let go of AA, my life did start to improve. I stopped praying (something I always felt awkward doing anyway) and went back to being an agnostic with leanings toward karma and past lives. I continued to work out and develop my relationship with HAM. I had some bad habits, too, like the binge eating and the talking to ALL every once in a while, even though I had no intention of ever going back to him (which I made clear whenever I talked to him). But I don't know, all this shit went down with ALL and HAM, and me, and what I want out of life and a relationship, plus the antidepressants and the Ambien, the panic attacks and depression. All this shit just snowballed and reached a crescendo and then dissolved into nothingness and everything was peaceful and the way I always wanted it to be, and then we got high. I don't know if it was because we were trying to cover up some emotional pain, which is what they want you to believe in AA (and it definitely has validity), or if I have just changed. I certainly don't feel like the person I once was before I began AA, before I was sober. I have a great job with a super cool boss and a lot of responsibilty. I am totally trusted and never micromanaged, and I love it. It's perfect for me. And I'm in a relationship with a wonderful guy who always treats me with respect and supports my goals, and vice versa. He's smart and in college and we play scrabble together. I also go play scrabble with my grandma every week, which I love to do, but it's also kind of like volunteering (and I can't think of a better way to volunteer my time than to hang out with my sweet little grandma). My life is drama free and on track. I'm starting the memoir writing course at UW in October, last week I worked out six days in a row, I've been cooking a lot of really fabulous meals, and I like to have a glass of wine or a few hits off the weed pipe in the evening after all of my responsibilties are handled. And I never get drunk, don't even wanna get drunk. I like to sip one glass of excellent red wine over the period of a few hours, and that's all I desire. I don't know if I will switch over from this to being unmanageable and powerless, or if I will remain a casual, light enjoyer of these substances. Is it worth it? Another question I don't know the answer to just yet. Sometimes I think I must be out of my mind to drink or smoke anything, and other times I think, there's just nothing wrong with this, millions of people do the same thing as me with no guilt and no negative consequences. But we live in a guilt-driven society and I am product of it, AA being even more guilt-driven than regular society. But the fact is, I got sober because of ALL, and I'm thankful to him for shifting my life that way, but maybe my problem was more related to childhood pain that has since been worked through. I don't feel resentful or angry toward either of my parents or the other parental figures from my past. I am an adult now, I am responsible, and in a healthy relationship, working on my professional goals at work and with writing on my own time. Life is good, and playing scrabble stoned is a total blast. If shit gets out of hand, hopefully I'll have the the awareness that it's out of hand, and the respect for myself to cut it out.

I got home from the gym a little while ago and since then I have taken a shower, got dressed and did my makeup, took out the trash, recycling, and compost, done the dishes, wiped down the kitchen counters, and taken my vitamins. Not to mention that when I first got home I smoked a little weed and ate some waffles. Back when I was the old me, living in that nasty house on the highway in Nice, CA, I used to be one of those stoners who couldn't do shit. I'd just sit there and eat and surf the internet. Or drink and surf the internet. I couldn't exercise, pay a bill, make dinner, clean the house, or clean myself. I was a waste product. Needless to say, I felt like a loser. Today, I figure, if I smoke weed, it's okay, as long as I am still a functioning human being who is able to take care of business. I've found that I've actually become more productive stoned than I do just normally. I used to tell myself I couldn't write stoned, and it was probably just an excuse I told myself so I didn't have to write. Or exercise. Although I wouldn't exercise stoned because that would just be counterintuitive, I also wouldn't let it come before a work out. Nothing comes between me and the gym. I'm there rain or shine, heartache or bursting at the seems with love, whether I'm angry, depressed, way too full from over eating, sick, or in pain. I always go. I can't imagine anything other than HAM being as important as the gym. I guess school. School takes even more time than the gym and balancing the two is difficult. I don't know how HAM does everything that he does. He'll make a good marketing executive someday, or whatever he decides to do. I remember back in my senior year of college, I was newly married, in school full time, working part time, applying to grad schools, and smoking crack on the weekends. I mean, not every single weekend, but if it wasn't crack, I was getting drunk, popping Xanax and Oxycontin, snorting cocaine, or even dropping ectasy. Who knows how I made it through all of that with my degree and a 3.9 GPA. Of course I didn't get into grad school, and I'm sure it was because I was delusional from the drugs. But I still accomplished a lot while I was handling a million other things. So I wonder, was it not being accepted to grad school that really pushed me over the edge as far as "partying", or was it just the natural progression of addiction? In AA, they say that's what happens - you can never maintain. One is too many and a thousand is never enough. I guess I don't know yet. I do know the year before I quit drinking and getting high was the worst year of my life. I definitely don't want to end up back there again. So maybe that's why I become so overly productive, trying to prove to myself that It's different this time. But is it worth it? Because if I am truly an addict, this won't stay manageable. It will become unmanageable and I'll have to stop. If it turns out I was just misguided and had some impermanent dependency issues, then I guess I could go on forever feeling satisfied with a little evening weed smoking and one glass of wine. That would be fine. Honestly, I don't know why I ever liked getting drunk. It's much better to just slowly sip one glass of fabulous wine than "get fucked up". I don't like being out of control, doing and saying things I normally wouldn't do and say, and waking up feeling like shit, dehydrated and ashamed. No thank you. One is just right, actually. I don't ever feel like I'm stopping myself from having more. All I care for is one, and then I feel done. Damn, AA really fucks a person't head up, doesn't it? It's so weird, because AA helps so many people, but it's also a brainwashing cult. It's just that the brainwashing helps a lot of people. But it hurts people, too. It hurt me and I've heard stories about others. I guess I just don't have the answers on this. I guess I'll just have to watch and see what happens, and hope it's nothing I'll regret.

Since Amy Winehouse was found dead in her apartment, everyone's been talking about the age 27. So many artists have died at age 27, and everyone is asking, "What is the significance of this number?" Of course, we all know that Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, and Jimi Hendrix died at age 27, but there are others, too. They call it the 27 Club. A complete list of all the musicians who died at 27 is available on Wikipedia. It makes me think of my 27th year. It was the worst of my drug and alcohol addiction. I lived in this brokedown palace on Highway 20 in Nice, California. The house was this huge, dilapidated shithole covered in chipped white paint. The owners of the house split it into two apartments, one with store frontage facing the highway. The guy who lived in the front apartment owned an antique shop. He was pretty much a jerk, but we didn't talk to him much. RC (my husband at the time) and I lived in the apartment around back. It was two stories. Upstairs had a master bedroom, two bathrooms, a living room and kitchen. In the summer, the upstairs would get so hot that I could barely stand to cook anything in that kitchen because it was like cooking inside a sauna. The downstairs was somehow dug out after the house was built, so the ceiling was very low. It had a living room, a weird bedroom in the back, and a full bathroom. This was also where the entry to the house was located. Another door was upstairs, but it was off the side of the deck and wasn't a good place to enter the house. RC and I spent most of our time in the downstairs area because it was warmer in winter and cooler in summer. RC was gone a lot, though, because it was a two hour drive from our house to the mountain where he was growing weed. I went with him sometimes, and I had a job trimming buds for some people up there that paid $20/ hour. But most of the time, I'd stay home with the dogs, or at least one of the dogs. I'd mess around on the internet for hours, with the TV on as background noise. I'd sit there, smoke weed, drink wine or beer, sometimes scotch neat. I got a prescription for Vicodin, so I'd pop them like candy while drinking and smoking. Sometimes, I would feel my heart squeezing like it was going to explode, but I never told anyone. This was also when Amy Winehouse's second album came out, the album that projected her to stardom. I used to make these videos of myself singing songs to karaoke music and post them on YouTube. I was drunk when I did Amy Winehouse's song, "You Know I'm No Good". I got a lot of negative feedback on that one, which, at the time, hurt my feelings, but looking back at it later, it's obvious why people didn't like it - I was wasted. I guess I thought that there was no other way to sing Amy Winehouse - she was always wasted, so I should be too. I fell in love with both of her albums. My friend told me there was this cool song out called, "Rehab", so I checked it out, and she was right - it was brilliant. I promptly downloaded everything Amy Winehouse had ever recorded and began listening to her albums on repeat. But at the same time, I was dying. I had been overweight a few months earlier, but I decided that alcohol had far too many calories for me to continue eating food, so I gave it up, except for the occasional fifty calorie hamburger bun. RC would ask, "What are gonna have for dinner tonight?" And I would reply, "Well, I don't know what you're having, but I'm having wine." I lost 20 pounds in a month or two on the PAW diet. That's pills, alcohol, and weed. I started an internet affair with my husband's friend. He contacted me on MySpace and after that, we started talking on the phone when my husband was on the mountain and his wife was at work. I began drinking scotch first thing in the morning, so when he called me, I'd be more relaxed. I felt so guilty for having this long-distance affair that I had to drink in order to go through with it. I couldn't work anymore. I was unemployable. I was writing a little, but it was mostly self-loathing ramblings - nothing productive or interesting. At night I would get so paranoid that I was sure some tweaker would break into the house and rape me. I couldn't clean, I couldn't pay any bills. I could hardly bathe myself or brush my teeth. I would go three days without a shower some times, even though I had one in the next room. Many nights I spent sobbing uncontrollably, believing that I was going insane. I still remember one time I had smoked a ton of weed, drank a few glasses of wine, and took two Trazadone. I stood up and immediately collapsed on face forward. I had my head hard on the ground, and even as messed up as I was, I thought, this is NOT okay. My life was definitely unmanageable and I had lost all control my actions. I determined my problem to be sex addiction. That was the only possible explanation for my behavior. Why else would I have an affair? (Even thought I was also on Prozac during all of this so I couldn't have an orgasm. I'd always fake it when I was on the phone with RC's friend.) I called the community clinic one day to make an appointment with a counselor. When I went for the appointment, the counselor told me that I couldn't afford to see him, but it sounded like I needed AA more than SA. He gave me a list of local meetings, and I went to one that afternoon. This begins a new chapter in my life, and there's much more to this story than just going to a meeting, but I did choose sobriety. I think maybe age 27 is so poignant in a person's life because it's sort of a change over from childhood to adulthood. People who spent most of their lives medicating with drugs and alcohol realize at this point that it's either going to be a lifelong problem or they're going to have to grow up. If you've been getting high since you were thirteen and you're still doing it at 27, chances are it's not a party anymore. It's not a casual thing to do once in a while with friends, it's a daily, lonely nightmare and it seems like you'll never wake up. For whatever reason, I was one of the lucky ones who managed to get out alive, but so many people, like Amy Winehouse, never wake up.