I quit drinking a week ago. I also quit taking Xanax. I had to sacrifice many hours of sleep to do so, but it's been worth it ; I'm starting to become comfortable with waking without a hangover. I'd forgotten what it feels like to look forward to the coming day. Feels good.
Didn't have any catastrophic event , just made a bet with myself . I bet I that we'd both feel better without beer and pills. Guess who won? I did.
Besides, I'm without job, which means lots of free time- why waste it nursing a hangover? Waking up sometime between lunch and dinner is not a good habit to cultivate.
This is Dry Spell #2. The first one began on Dec. 7 1998. I remember watching History Channel footage of the Japanese blowing up Pearl Harbor and thinking," my head feels just like that". The previous night, my then-favorite drinking partner/sorta girlfriend and I had polluted ourselves enough to qualify for SuperFund clean-up. All was swell until we got back to my apartment-we didn't even get to my front door until the screaming contest started. What were we arguing about? I don't know. I don't think either one of us knew what the hell we were going on about. Never will, I suppose. We made up for a few hours, but in the morning she was gone.
This was a shitty period in my life. The week before, I had received my two-weeks notice from my cool music store job and a phone call from my somewhat estranged mother. I hadn't heard from her for years, didn't even know where she was. Turns out she's in Billings, Montana. She tells me she's got terminal cancer. It was a heavy world.
Anyway, through it all, I managed to stay away from Demon Alcohol until the summer of 2000, which is when I met Demoness Alicia. She convinced me that one drink wouldn't hurt. She was wrong. But that's the past.
This time I know better. I shouldn't date drunks.
I can do this thing-the first week is the hardest, and it's over.