Monday, May 26, 2014

Even the good fall down sometimes...

If you know me well, which most of you who read this blog do, you know that I'm not a big drinker. I like to have an ocassional drink once in a while, and I usually stop at one. 

One obvious reason for this is my faith. The bible says, "Do not be given to much wine" (Ephesians 5:18; 1 Timothy 3:8). We are also instructed to live soberly and in a way that is not a stumbling block to our brothers but that serves each other in love ( 1 Corinthians 8:9; Galatians 5:13). 

The second reason I don't drink much is because of how I was introduced to alcohol. My parents have not had a drink for as long as I have known either of them, save the occasional hot toddy when they were sick. So I got to know alcohol on my own in my semester abroad in Europe. I was 19 years old. 

For me this was a good thing because I learned to appreciate wine for how it tastes and how it can enhance the foods it is paired with. I learned about the different types of beer and how they are made. I learned to appreciate alcohol the way many Europeans do , as a part of life and something to enjoy ( usually with a meal) rather than an apparatus to help me avoid my problems. 

And then something changed. I started dating an Irish man. Now , I'm not saying that he completely changed the way I looked at alcohol... But in a way... Yes. This man would get so drunk and/or high that he would forget entire weekends. I spent many a weekend in college helping him try to piece together his whereabouts after a "day of darkness" as he would call it. He used alcohol as a means of coping with life  and as the time passed and he became a bigger part of my life, so did I. 

He did not share my faith or desire to live sobermindedly from a Christian perspective... and at that time, it was easy just to drink a little more with him. It tasted good. Drinking was fun. It helped me forget my cares...loosen up... What could be bad?

I never lost entire weekends to drink, but I did pass out on ocassion. The drinking led to loss of inhibition and poor judgment, which caused me to behave in ways I would not otherwise. As with most drunks, right?

I threw up on cab drivers' shoes. 

Lost my clothes in hallways. 

Was almost cited for public intox in a restaurant in Arlington when I refused to sit up in a booth. I reportedly told the server, "I'm a new lawyer. You won't arrest me."

I fell far and I fell hard away from the relationship with alcohol that I used to know. I forgot about my convictions and just as casually as my relationship with drink started, it evolved into something totally toxic. 

My relationship with alcohol changed after the night that I passed out after drinking such a combination of booze that my then-boyfriend had to have a cab driver and a hotel employee help me up the steps of the Comfort Inn where he was staying on his visit from Kentucky. 

I remember very little from that night, but what matters is what I remember about the next morning. We had apparently done things together that I would not have consented to soberly; he knew this, but he said he "thought it would be ok since I wouldn't remember anyway."

Not only that, but I woke up covered in my own dried vomit, without clothes, unclear of anything past about 9:30 pm the night before. The only recollection of what happened that night was his, and to this day, I just have to trust that he told me the truth. 

I went to work that morning two hours late (because I had to go home and change) and feeling the most sick I think I have ever felt in my life. I was sore, lethargic and headachey, yes. But I also had unexplained bruises and scratches and no idea how they appeared. 

To me, those were worse. 

I have never felt as dirty as I did that next morning. 

And I couldn't take it back. I didn't even really know what "it" had been, because I didn't remember. 

That was when I decided to change my relationship with alcohol. I stopped drinking. I didn't buy it. I had one bottle of red wine in my wine rack from a visit of his that stayed there until last August when I drank a glass with a friend. 

Recently, I bought a case of hard cider. And then another. And then another. I would occasionally have one after work or on Saturday or with a meal. 

It is something I drink on ocassion to enjoy-- not to get drunk. I want to reestablish the appreciation I had for alcohol in the past and enjoy it, without it taking hold of me. 

But tonight, I realized that the toxic relationship I had with alcohol is not buried that deep below the surface. 

I was feeling broken heated. I wanted to escape. 

So I drank a bottle. 

And then another  

And then another. 

And half another. 

And I didn't realize how drunk I had become until I fell face-first into an open refrigerator. 

And there I was. Staring at my problem right in the face. 

The problem, you see, is not the alcohol. It never has been. The problem is use of the alcohol to cope. I wasn't where I should have been-- on my knees praying to God or at the dining room table with my Bible open. 

I was letting myself wallow in sorrows when I could have been imploring for His help to pull me out. 

He had to throw me into the crisper drawer of my refrigerator to get my attention.... but now, as I sit here drinking my second bottle of water 2 hours later... I see. 

I am not perfect.  I am human. I am flawed. I sin everyday , sometimes in ways I would not expect even knowing myself. 

But I have His saving grace. And His forgiveness. And His love... All enough to pull me through any situation. 

And tomorrow, thank God, is a different day. And with His help, I will live it differently. 


No comments:

Post a Comment