Number 2 comin' atcha live from her bed at 8 PM on a Friday night. I must say, this is the last place you would have ever found me at this hour during my heavy drinking/weekend bingy days.Yes, I drank most days out of the week, so a Friday was not much different from lets say a Tuesday. But weekends were usually on a different level because I had more friends willing to take their partying up a notch with me. I hardly ever would see my family on weekends. And if I did, it would be me coming home on a Sunday morning, still smelling of alcohol, in the same clothes as the night before, and surviving through church just so I could go back home and nap after. Most of the time my parents wouldn't even ask me questions because they just knew. It was almost like a don't ask don't tell policy. I know they were constantly worried about me, but the sight of me walking through their door having survived another night was enough to relieve them for the time being. I remember what I was thinking during this period of time. I was thinking how sad that I turned out this way. How sad that my parents know that I drink way too much for my own good but that I had no intention of stopping. I also remember thinking, "this is how my life is going to be from now on." I was just going to settle for being the rebellious party girl who got too crazy with her friends every now and then but had also developed a problem when she was alone. I was not just a social drinker anymore. I had felt what it was like to completely remove my mind from my body and I needed to have more of it. As often as possible.
As I mentioned in our bio, it took a lot of serious low moments to make #1 and I realize it was only going to keep getting worse. We had both passed the point of being the fun drunk friend that is always down for the ride. No one wanted to drink with us anymore. We both had the personality flip when we would black out where we would turn angry and treat people in ways we would never treat them sober. If I ever start hearing the little devil on my shoulder telling me that I am stronger now and happier now so I could probably have a glass of wine now and be fine, I am going to slap him so hard to the floor he will be scared of me for all eternity. At least that's the goal. Because realistically, yes. I could have a glass of wine and be fine, I would not spontaneously combust. But, then that starts to feed my ego and I saay "hmmm I had that one glass that one day remember? I could do that again today." And then soon I'm passed out on the floor being dragged to bed by my roommates. Does that sound like the person I want to be? Does that sound like the type of person anyone else wants to be around? Absolutely not. I am addicted to alcohol. I cannot ever touch it again. That is that.
So here I am. In bed on my Friday night and I could not be happier. I am watching snapchats of my friends out at bars, drinking beers and I do not wish I was there one bit. I am perfectly content embracing the fact that I can not drink alcohol the way they do. I have been getting to know myself and my sober thoughts more than I ever have in the past three years of my life and I'm realizing that I kinda like myself :) Who would have thought? Happy Friday to all!