Triggers in AA

A huge part of my recovery is building a strong social network in recovery.  I had avoided doing this in the past, when it would have been the only thing standing between me and a relapse.  I was recently invited to an event by a fellow club member.  My first thought was that I wanted to make myself go, despite any social anxiety, because these events are great ways to make lasting friendships in recovery.  Then, after closer examination, I realized that the event (a Christmas ornament exchange) was going to be held in a bar!  Now, I realize that I have no chance of drinking at an event with 60 other sober members, but even walking through a bar and seeing others drinking can be triggering this early in recovery (77 days and counting).  I brought this up with a counselor and decided not to go.  I have no doubt that I'd make it through the event sober, but I don't want to put any pictures or ideas in my head that might trigger me in the coming month.  I need to protect my sobriety with my life.  My counselor also brought up a very good point, in that anyone in the program will be completely understanding of my absence if I explain my reasons for skipping the event.

Food

Without alcohol I feel like my addicted brain keeps searching for something else to abuse.  Everything around me becomes dangerous.  I order something online, then I get the urge to buy several other things that I don't need and aren't in the budget.  One cup of coffee in the morning turns into several.  I'll even get obsessive about finishing a book before doing anything else, or obsessively cleaning, or excessive use of social media.  My biggest concern right now is going back into an addictive pattern with food.  First of all, I don't want to entertain any addictive behaviors, because that's just going to keep those pathways strong, which could lead me back to drinking.  Secondly, I have a rocky history with food.  Most of that is contained within my teenage years, when most females have food and self-image issues.  Still, part of having a strong recovery is prioritizing health, and I'm not doing that when I'm addicted to my food.  I'm the type of person that needs to meal prep and plan ahead, or I'll eat way more food, and bad food, than is necessary.  I'm (almost) a lifelong pescatarian and I do genuinely love healthy foods (plants) and I love cooking and baking.  The problem is that if I get hungry before I've had time to meal prep for the week, I end up snacking on less healthy and more addictive foods: cheeses, sugars, starch, etc.  It's helped me a lot to meal prep on Sunday and then actually portion out everything I'll be eating for the week.  I have a lot of small Pyrex dishes to help me with that.  Otherwise, I tend to go portion crazy, especially grabbing food on the fly when I'm already starving.  As I've mentioned, I've had quite a few issues with sleep recently, and I've also noticed a tendency to binge eat when I'm tired.  I think that this, in part, helps me stay awake.  Maybe for a normal person, a small binge wouldn't be such a horrible event, but it's very triggering for me.  When I overeat I feel slow, and it stops me for doing things that I need to do, especially when those things involve leaving the house.  I also tend to push back, and spend a day not eating after a day overeating, and hunger has been a relapse trigger of mine in the past.  I like not feeling so heavy, so I start to think that if I were drinking, I wouldn't want to eat so much.  I grab the bottle as an alternative to food, when I think that food is my enemy.  I want to have a healthier relationship with food, and unfortunately, right now, that means that I have to be somewhat meticulous about meal planning.  It is my hope that one day I will be able to trust myself to limit my portions without so much planning, but for now it's the safest way to keep me on track.  A program that I have grown to like is Noom.  I've only been using it for a couple of months, but it's where I originally got the idea to meal prep and to portion prep.  It's a kind of make-your-own-diet, because it has to be something sustainable and not temporary.  A lot of it is self-guided, but every day there are articles about nutrition and psychology that are very helpful.  I think that a lot of what I've been learning with Noom overlaps with what I've been learning in recovery.  For me, the two go really well together.

Dogs

I think that it is quite common for those of us with addiction problems to also have other mental health issues.  Anxiety and depression are my own.  Part of building a solid recovery includes taking care of those issues that would otherwise lead back to drinking or other addictive behaviors.  I'm currently entirely off medication.  I used to (in recent history) take medicine for anxiety, depression, and insomnia.  Coming off those medications was not originally my own choice (a story for another entry), but once I was no longer dependent on them I decided to remain free of them.  I won't recommend this approach to anyone else in recovery, but for myself, I felt as though my use of those medications was similar to my use of alcohol, and what really needed to be addressed was my mindset and my environment.  One of the best things I've incorporated into my new life is my dogs.  They're both young (one year and eight months respectively) and they bring so much light into my life.  I feel like having an animal, especially a dog because of their happiness and loyalty, can be so life-changing for someone in recovery or someone dealing with major depression.  Interacting with animals can increase levels of dopamine, oxytocin, endorphins, and serotonin in the brain, helping us to feel well. Isolation is a huge relapse trigger, and dogs will not leave you alone.  They won't let me stay in bed all day.  It's also incredibly lifting to have two very happy boys to greet me every time I come home.  Just knowing that they depend on me helps in keeping a fresh drive to be sober.  When I go through a depressed spell I used to stay indoors and isolate, but the dogs motivate me to get out and be active.  They've helped with my physical and mental health.  Honestly, I was struggling with my mood today, and even though I didn't want to do anything, I got up and got moving with my dogs.  In the evening I took them to a nearby park with my boyfriend and we walked them along Lake Michigan.  Being outside always lifts my mood, although sometimes it's hard to drag myself out of the house, even when I know that I should.  My dogs get me outside daily, and for a lot longer than I would be otherwise.  I live in Michigan, so I can't garden and play tennis all year round.  I walk them in the rain, in the snow, in the wind and fog...  They're also my best friends.  A lot of us have to isolate somewhat in the beginning of our recovery if we're to distance ourselves from "drinking buddies," or triggering people.  Having these guys around cuts the loneliness.

The Chronic Hangover

Before the meeting I attended tonight, I heard a gentleman across the room talking loudly about how thankful he is not to be hungover anymore.  His comment inspired me to rewind the clock a little bit.  Currently, if I were to relapse, I would get the worst imaginable hangover, meaning I should really be hospitalized.  Going back a few years in time, however, being hungover was just part of the daily grind.  When my drinking was still somewhat controlled, I'd average around four to six beers per night, assuming I had work the next morning (otherwise, who knows how much I could knock back).  I didn't realize then, that I even got hangovers, because I felt the exact same way every day.  I was tired, my head throbbed, I was thirsty, etc.  I took ibuprofen literally every morning.  Every day was a fight, because I felt so physically ill at work.  Every day was about treating the symptoms before I could have my next drink.  I'd wake up and wash down a couple (or six) ibuprofen with a Red Bull, that I drank to compensate for the tiredness.  I smoked cigarettes back then, so I'd do that, too.  After work my first priority was to pick up beer, and repeat over and over again.  Once I managed to scrape two or three sober days together.  It was probably after doing something embarrassing like passing out in a cab with my friend, blacking out after going for drinks with my boss, or falling over drunk at a bar enough times to get my own blood all over the floor (all of which actually happened).  My (now ex) boyfriend wouldn't agree to keep beer out of the apartment at all, so I'm surprised I could last even one day with the temptation right in my face.  I hadn't realized, until those two or three days, how hungover I was on a regular basis.  I thought that life just felt that awful.  I was so used to being sick, that it felt normal.  I was so used to feeling depressed during the day, that didn't even occur to me as a side effect from drinking, because I would just drown it away in the evenings.  That (not feeling ill) was the first bit of hope I had for sobriety.  I had hit a lot of bottoms, but sober life seemed worse than anything that drinking would lead me to; even death.  Exclusively the idea that I could wake up and not feel sick.  I could go to work and not feel miserable.  I could even enjoy myself without a buzz.  I never made it past three days that entire year, but I kept trying.  I probably stayed sober for three days at least once or twice a month after that.  After a few years three turned to a week, which turned to thirty days, then ninety, then here, to a different and better life.

55 Days

This is the second time I've been 55 days sober in 2019.  Historically, aside from one long stretch years ago, I haven't abstained from a drink much longer than 30 days.  I have, however, remained sober for 30 days often enough to know that after the first month, I physically and mentally start to feel pretty fresh.  I had felt this same sort of "wellness" earlier in the year after achieving a similar number of days.  It lasted for a while longer, until I had the thought, "I've been feeling so nice, I'm all better now."  That crushing depression and paranoia that's left over from the drinking vanishes after a month or so, and I start to feel almost normal.  That's a trap.  Normal people can drink without exorbitant consequences.  I am not one of those people.

I'm not itching for a drink.  I haven't really thought much about it recently.  I hadn't thought about it much before my relapse last spring, either.  Sometimes a relapse starts a month before it happens.  Typically it goes something like this:  I make it through some awful social event where everyone is drinking.  I feel good about being an adult and getting through it sober, which is more that anyone else at the event can claim.  I think about how pathetic everyone seems drunk, and I wonder why I never saw myself that way.  Then I think about it a little more throughout the week.  I start to think about what I miss.  I see a craft brew I've never tried in the grocery store or the gas station, because Michigan sells alcohol EVERYWHERE.  It's inescapable.  I think that I'd have been fine if I had just stuck to drinking beer, back in the day.  A few weeks after the event I know exactly which beer I'm going to relapse on.  It's only when, that I don't know.  Then an opportunity presents itself; I will be alone with no one to catch me.  I buy the beer, blocking out all of the thoughts in my head that are warning me against it.  I won't let my mind rest on anything but that drink.  I drink it.  It doesn't really taste that good.  I don't feel very well.  I chug it because I can't stand the taste, it's not as glorious as I remember.  I feel buzzed, but slow and tired.  Then one of two things happen.  Either, I stop there, and wait another few days to fully relapse, or I go right back to the store for something stronger, because this slight buzzed feeling is a downer, and I want to be DRUNK.  Then it's liquor, faster than I can even process it.  I feel awake, I want to do things, everything is so fun!  The problem is, I have no tolerance to speak of, so before I get to enjoy that happy phase, I can't walk straight, I'm falling down, someone I've text or in my home has figured out that I'm trashed...  I don't remember the rest, I just wake up feeling sick, I throw up for 2-3 days, then I'm suicidal for a couple of weeks until I've been sober for 30 + days and I go to another event and don't drink... until I do.

I'm not concerned about any of this today.  I feel solid in my sobriety TODAY, while being aware that I can't be too confident.  I hate cliché AA phrases, although the old timers seem convinced that I will like them someday .  One that I find true, although still trite, is that "if nothing changes, nothing changes."  I've always tried to avoid being a "dry drunk."  I quit smoking cigarettes 5 years ago, the first time I stumbled through consecutive months of sobriety.  I always try to add something, whether it is dietary changes, exercise, or mindfulness.  The problem is that I lose momentum and slowly stop doing all of the things that are supposed to help with the personality change.  For example, starting yoga and only making it to three classes, which I did this past summer.  I can't just think of changes to make, I have to actually make them.  This is where I'm falling short right now.  I have too many things that I want to work on, and I'm not carrying through on any of them.  One of those things is writing.  I hadn't intended to blog, but I'm not writing in my notebooks currently, and I need some accountability.  I'm going to start with this, and follow with the rest SLOWLY.  My diet has always been pretty healthy, but I can still cut things out like cheese and added sugar.  I've been consistently walking my dogs and getting outside, but I need to add some strength training and flexibility (I should have kept going to yoga).  I read every day (almost a book per day) for over 40 days, and this week I've read only a few chapters.  That needs correcting before a good habit is lost.  I have more goals, but I'll start with those ones.