Backslide

I am pretty disappointed in myself. I messed up big last night. Not the kind of big with far-reaching consequences, just the kind of big that's enough to bobble your confidence and make you second guess yourself to death, wondering if you'll ever be able to return to a normal life or if you're destined to be forever damaged.

Since The Boy was working - still on that god-forsaken night shift - I met up with my best friend of 19 years, Cowboy. There is no way for me to explain everything we've gone through together. But last night's mission was simply to sing a few songs at karaoke and just have a good time.

Cowboy has always been a serious drinker and smoker. I was, too, but I quit smoking 4 years ago and...well, you know about the drinking. Recently, Cowboy was diagnosed with Diabetes and is on 2 types of controlled-substance doctor-prescribed crazy pills, so he is under very strict orders not to drink a drop. I figured he'd probably have a drink or two and a Lone Star or two, as is his way.

I got to the bar first, so I ordered a Sprite with grenadine and lime. Looks frou-frou, but is totally innocuous. When Cowboy arrived, he ordered a Jack and Coke, a Lone Star, and another Stoli and Cranberry for me.

What?

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot to ask...are you drinking tonight?"

We all know what I should have done, but I'm sure y'all can guess what I actually did. By the time I wrestled with my brain and thought I'd found the 'nads to say no, the drink was in front of me and I had a straw to my lips.

The positive spin on all of this is that it was the only alcoholic drink I consumed last night. I did have enough (circle one) foresight self-preservation fear sense to stop there.

Cowboy didn't mean any harm. I'm fairly certain I haven't even talked to him about going to AA off and on. Most of the small details of my life get overshadowed by the fact that he has 7 children and little time for anything else.

Well, I guess that's not true, either. He does manage to find a bar every weekend.

At any rate, I could have said no at any point before the bartender presented me with my Achilles heel, but I didn't. I am weak, that is true, but I guess I just hit a breaking point.

I have been in many bars over the last few months. I've gone for karaoke, I've gone to see bands play, both with The Boy, alone, and with other friends. And I've always managed to be okay and not drink anything. I don't see alcoholism as a 'disease.' I feel as if it's a battle of wills, and I should find a way to be strong enough. Alcohol is everywhere; you can't avoid it, you can't ignore it, and you have to deal with it. Every day is a test, and I've had a pretty good GPA up to this point.

So what was different?

Was it because The Boy is working nights and I knew I would have been asleep for hours before he got home? Was it because I was in a bar I'd never been to before, and I felt like I could 'get away with it' because nobody knew me there? Did I want to pretend like I was single again and do those things again? Did I want to see if I could truly limit myself to just one drink and control that monster? Beats me. I have no idea.

What I do know is that I went out Friday night to one of my favorite little rockabilly bars to see a band play. I stood at the bar all night long, watching the bands. Not only did I drink Coke and nothing else (god, how i really hate carbonated drinks...), but not one man said a word to me. Granted, I didn't do my hair and I'd just woken up from a nap, but I didn't look bad. Hell, those were the exact same conditions under which I met The Boy: same bar, my boyfriend at the time left me alone on a weekend evening, I hadn't done my hair, and I'd just woken up from a nap before I went to the bar. Funny coincidence, anyhow. But I digress...back to last night.

I didn't tell The Boy. He'd be more pissed at Cowboy than at me, and I don't want that. It wasn't his fault.

I should be racked with guilt. So why don't I feel bad? There are two possibilities, and I'm not sure which is true: 1) I realize that sobriety is an ongoing struggle, and there will be setbacks. It's happened before. This may not be the last time. All alcoholics go through it at some point, so I've been told. Or, 2) I really don't feel like I did anything wrong. I mean, it's not like I got drunk, right?

Lying by omission to The Boy is wrong. I know that. And I do feel bad that I didn't just confess to him that I drank one drink and stopped there. Fear of being wrong and fear of being looked down upon and fear of getting yelled at are the three things stopping me from telling him. The last time I slipped up, I did confess as soon as I got home and hours before he would be home, so he wouldn't be surprised when he got here. Let's just say that it did not end well for either of us, or for two other people who sort of interjected themselves into our dilemma.

When I was driving back home last night, I called The Boy to let him know I was headed home (he's a little protective, wanting to know each of my moves as the night progresses and such - i have no problem with obliging him), and I did tell him that I didn't want to be sober anymore, that I wanted to drink whenever I wanted to, but I knew it would destroy me if I did. I acknowledged to him that I simply cannot control it, but that I miss being out of control and the whirlwind of an evening and all. The only two bad things about being a drunk for someone with no dependents is the sheer amount of money you waste, and the hangovers. And, I guess, the ruined relationships from the fighting and misunderstandings.

I feel a little bit like a sheep that's wandered away from the herd of protection. I'm a little lost, and I'm not sure how to find my way back. I am afraid that I opened a floodgate and the water's rushing in and I'll never get it closed again.

Wish me luck on fixing this...