Facing Reality

Today, I thought I'd finally do a post about something that's been troubling me lately. Alcohol. It's been an increasing problem over the past 6 months or so, but this past month, I've only had a grand total of two days off. Most days, I wake up with no memory of the night before.

I don't like the thought of being labelled as an alcoholic or drunkorexic. When people ask if I drink, I tend to say “I enjoy a few glasses of wine with dinner.” as it seems so much more socially acceptable. But I am an addict, and one addiction became another when I quit smoking synthetics (10 months ago now!)

I've been trying hard to not keep drinking so much. Unfortunately, finishing the day with a few drinks has now become the norm and not the exception. If I have to drink, I've set goals of not drinking until 5pm, instead of starting in the afternoon, and keeping a tighter limit on how many standard drinks I do consume (ideally, 10 standard drinks max, instead of 14, 16, sometimes up to 20 drinks).

I'm eating less as I'm drinking more. The depression isn't helping with either. And with just a few hundred less calories of food and a few less drinks (usually around 500 now, before alcohol, which is usually around an extra 600-700), my weight has started to drop again after being fairly stable for the past few months.

In a way, I sort of justify my drinking to others because it keeps my intake higher. Truth be told though, the only real reason I want to cut back is so I can lose weight faster.

Last week, mum went away to visit friends for a few nights, and I decided to use the quiet time as an opportunity to have a night or two off drinking. I figured that, since I never eat dinner or set meals when I'm alone, as I lose all track of time, maybe I wouldn't drink either. I set myself up on the couch with my cigarettes, notebooks, chewing gum, extra meds, and water, and spent my days on the couch marathoning The L Word for the millionth time.

I can't lie – it was very tempting to get some smoke, since that's one of the few times I never drink (the others being when I'm physically ill, or in hospital), and when I'm home alone is the only time I can get away with it without it causing arguments. But after spending so much money on alcohol recently, I couldn't do it. It's funny. Everyone says I must be saving so much money since I quit synthetics (and rarely smoke the natural stuff), but in reality, I've been spending nearly as much on alcohol, especially in the past couple of months. At least smoke has no calories...

She was away for four days, and on the second day, I managed to get through without drinking – my first day off in a month. The next day, I drank early in the afternoon. I think I'm starting to get withdrawals if I try to have more than one day off. Even the first drink made me feel so much better. Being the weekend, my brother was home. Apparently I passed out on the kitchen floor for a few hours that night, for no apparent reason. I tend to pass out quickly and unexpectedly these days. Just a couple of nights ago, I had my soup heating up for dinner, my toast cooked, but passed out before I could eat it.

The last day she was away, I was sick. And no, it wasn't a hangover – it lasted through the following day. I couldn't even finish ¼ of a cup of coffee, and even cigarettes made me feel sick. I spent the day in dark and silence, my head pounding, quickly throwing up any thing I tried to drink. My body ached from the act of being sick so much. But it gave me another night without drinking.

On a different note, over the Easter weekend, I spent a few days with my friend R. It was so nice to get a break from the day-to-day life at home. I even managed to get out for a walk. It wasn't a particularly long walk, but with the pressure wounds from my last overdose still healing, it was a slow walk. It wasn't easy, but being a public holiday, there were very few people around, which was a bonus. So that was outing #4 for the year. It's the longest time I've spent walking around town in many years. Still, it was a nice little getaway from being stuck at home, and spend some time being social.

Tomorrow is my birthday, and I'm dreading it. Birthdays have usually ended in disaster for some years now. There's a sense of impending doom, and it could go either way. Will I be able to go out for dinner? Will I spend all day drinking myself into a stupor? Will everything fall apart? Watch this space.

I've been terrible with staying up to date on blogs these past couple of weeks, but I'm slowly starting to catch up, so please bear with me.

Easter Weekend supplies
Staying warm in a dressing gown before going out (My black one was in the wash - please don't judge my backup pastel polka dot one!)

xxBella

Finding my Feet

My GP came for a home visit on Monday. After a chat, we did go for a short walk, as she's trying to help me build up to be able to walk to regular appointments. It was just 200 meters, down to the corner of the block and back, but for me, it's a lot. The thought of doing it alone makes me panic. Baby steps, though.

I've also got even more antibiotics and cortisone to help the pressure wounds heal, but to be honest, I've barely touched them. Taking antibiotics is something I've always struggled with – some weird form of self-neglect and/or punishment. So the pressure wounds on my feet from the last overdose are healing very slowly. I've not been able to do step aerobics for a month now, which is driving me nuts, and have only just started walking laps around the house again without hobbling.

She's doing another home visit in a few weeks, and the dietician will stop by occasionally on Tuesday after she's finished at work. So hopefully losing transport to appointments won't be quite as devastating as it could've been.

Also, I'm pleased (and greatly relieved) to report that Bill's surgery went well, and he's recovering nicely.

His surgery was last Friday, and for the eight hours he spent at the vets, I was worried sick, waiting for the phone to ring. Each hour that passed made me more and more anxious.

A few nights before the surgery, I broke down, hysterical about his health and his age, worrying that I've not done enough for him, that I haven't loved him as much as I could. I was still feeling a sort of pre-emptive grief from the few days there was talk of having to say goodbye.

The poor boy knew something was up. Usually, he runs out to the car and is happy to go to the vets. This time, he wouldn't move off the porch, and I had to carry him out to the car, where he sat shaking on my lap the whole time. At the vet, mum went to drop him in while I waited in the car. Again, he wouldn't move. He even climbed up on put his head on my shoulder. He used to do that all the time as a puppy, but he hadn't done it in a long time. It's the closest you can get to a hug.

We all thought he wouldn't have any teeth left when he came home, but it turns out it wasn't quite so bad. He had more teeth left than the vet thought, considering he wouldn't let anyone have a close look. Dogs have 48 teeth to start with. The vet drew a handy diagram of the 20 teeth he'd had removed (over several surgeries) in the past, the 14 they removed that day, and the 14 he had left.

I was worried about how he'd recover, how much pain he might be in, and how I'd cope with it. When we picked him up, he was so excited and energetic. Since then, he's just slept and slept. There's no doubt he's more comfortable now than before the surgery, even though he's still healing. 

I know I probably should've posted earlier, but I've been so worried something would go wrong or complications would pop up. Amazingly enough, his mouth hasn't even bled once, which we were told to expect. He had his follow-up appointment today, and everything is healing perfectly. There are no words for how relieved I am!

This fortnight's groceries – the bare essentials, after I found out about the surgery. 

Watermelon is always my No. 1 essential. 

That said, I always have lots of stew and soups in my freezer for evening meals.

His little paw print bandage from the IV

xxBella