The Whiskey Diaries: Entry I

I’d hoped to start these entries off on a high note, documenting the progress of overcoming an incredible alcohol addiction. But instead, this first entry will document the sickening withdrawals and intense anxiety.

Today, just like two days ago, I woke up already feeling the shakes coming on. This usually happens early in the morning, around seven or eight a.m. and the minute I feel it I start to panic a little; “You mean, I have to feel like this the whole day, knowing it will only get worse later?” The only real comfort I feel is when I take a long shower, but that includes spending half of it bent over, heaving, trying to take sips of the bottle of water I usually bring in with me. I tend to use up all of the hot water, making for a very cold exit, which I already know – but do it anyway – will make me feel like shit all over again.

I spend hours pacing back and forth in my house – in between the stomach cramps and puking – trying to concentrate on my breathing so I don’t hyperventilate from the anxiety and genuine fear. My poor dog just sits on the couch watching me, looking like she wants to cry, and sometimes does.

Looking up the actual symptoms of sever alcohol withdrawal does NOT help the situation. It only scares me more. I look at myself in the mirror and wonder what happened to my nice skin, my womanly shape, my teeth… What happened to my hair and my social life? What have I done to people I care about that I often can’t even remember why they are mad at me – usually because I was so drunk the night before that once I fell asleep my brain hit a reset switch.

My head is pounding, I keep clenching my jaw from the anxiety, I know I should eat but just can’t even put food in my mouth right now, I’m so thirsty but can’t drink too much water at a time. I also discovered orange juice – thinking to put something healthy in my body – is a no-go on these days, and tastes wretched coming back up.

There’s a part of me that just wants to scream, run outside and as far as I can – but the thought of leaving the house on these days is scary. What if I have an episode in public? When I’m not pacing the house, I’m stuck on the couch, curled up in a ball, looking at the closed blinds of the room I’m in, with the sun shining behind them, knowing I’ve wasted so much of my life having days like this.

The sad part is, it’s not like I just got some sort of virus one day that afflicted me to get like this – I know I did it to myself. That’s my sad truth. I did this.

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