Life for me was good. I began to hang out with some new friends. We would go out every Friday for drinks. I had never been a drinker, but I suddenly found myself enjoying Vodka. I also noticed I could hold more liquor. I could drink several drinks without feeling any noticeable effects. My drinking was something I hid from my family. It was my secret indulgence. Always going to a remote liquor store, I tried to make sure purchasing was confidential. Later discretion would leave me and I would chug-a-lug without any remorse. I found myself drinking and then getting behind the wheel to go to my kid’s activities, pick them up from school functions, or to drive myself home. I also found myself with many empty liquor bottles. Usually, I would dispose of them in a public trash can somewhere. Finally, I began to chunk them in our outside can at home. Oddly, no one noticed or if the did they did not say anything. Was my family in denial? That would be fitting. I think for some reason my husband has never wanted to fully accept my illness. I feel he fights against it’s admission, maybe not believing it is valid.
Sleep became a thing of the past. I would go to bed, fall asleep, only to wake up around three o’clock in the morning. I usually would not go back to bed. The time would be spent working, or my other new favorite pastime: Internet shopping. Along with my favorite stores, I would also shop from places having interesting items I just could not live without. I had inherited 10K and within months I had spent it all. I was also gifted with several high credit card balances. This was another habit I would have to hide from my husband. When he began questioning the amount of packages coming to the door, I calculated plans to hide it from him. I would try to get home before him to capture the boxes before he could see, hiding the packages in the garage or under the bed.
Somehow, I slowly began to piece together that my behavior was not usual. It might have been the day one of my new buddies commented that I could “drink like a man,” or the day I went to the mailbox and found I had ordered 4 tickets to a concert. I was excited to get the tickets, but baffled as to when I bought them. I traced back the order through email and realized they were purchased at about four o’clock in the morning. The real jolt came with my sexual impulses. I began to look at men and just wonder . . . I also felt the desire to have it more. The desire to have a stranger encounter would at times overwhelm me.
Slowly, my life was becoming unmanageable. My family would complain I was not there for them. My sister began to notice my erratic impulses and made comments. My moods also turned from glorious to irritable. There were times when I would be completely irrational. At work, conflicts began to surmount. Upon seeing a friend at a restaurant, she nailed my behavior and firmly suggested I see a therapist. I decided what the heck, and made an appointment with someone she suggested. It also came time for me to see the pdoc for my regular check up. I think the episode became fully pronounced when I showed up rather late to my appointment and quite drunk.