A DAY AT A TIME, IS HOW THIS WORKS
Last week at this time I wrote a post in which I broke the silence about a very personal situation facing my family. I was at the bottom of a rather dark well, and I needed to reach out through this blog to the world, to remind myself that I wasn't alone.
What I intend to do from this point on is to go back to blogging about crime fiction, books, and creativity. But things are somewhat different than they were last Wednesday evening, and I owe an update to everyone who read last week's post.
The morning after I wrote that post, last Thursday, I drove into the city to stay with my son. It was a difficult day for us and he wasn't capable of going to work, but by 6:30 that evening he'd stopped drinking and told me he wouldn't start up again. We didn't get much sleep that night, but he kept his word.
On Friday morning he showered, got dressed, and went to work. Given how he was feeling, it was an act of courage. He worked his shift while I cleaned up the apartment. He came home at the end of the day and we spent the evening talking. He hadn't bought alcohol while he was out, and he had nothing to drink that night.
I spent the weekend with him. We went out shopping for groceries, did a few little projects in the apartment and a load of laundry, and talked. He didn't go out to buy alcohol, and he stayed sober. He battled some very severe withdrawal symptoms all weekend, but he stuck with it.
On Monday he got up, showered, got dressed, and went to work. After he'd gone, I gave the cats fresh food and water to see them through the day, and I drove home. That evening when we talked on the phone, he told me that it was Day 4, still alcohol free. I should mention that this is something he never lies to me about. Ever. Not sure why, but he always tells me when he's drinking.
Tuesday, yesterday, was the real test. It was an entire day on his own, without me there overnight or in the morning to see him out the door. Yesterday was Day 5, zero alcohol. All the way through.
Today? I just spoke to him a half an hour ago. His work shift went well. He was heading for bed, tired and ready to sleep. Day 6 without alcohol is in the books.
And tomorrow?
I don't know. In the past when he's had a stretch like this he's felt a lot better physically. He likes the feeling. He knows if he can put a few more days together the withdrawal symptoms will lessen. People are telling him they could go away altogether in his second week. He's hopeful.
And I? How do I feel? Afraid to feel hopeful, I suppose. Immensely relieved. Proud of the battle he's fighting after such a terrible jag last week.
But realistic. My son is an alcoholic. That will never change. My hope is that tomorrow he'll be an alcoholic who doesn't have anything to drink that day.
That's how this works. One hour at a time, one day at a time.
Well done, son.
Wednesday, July 18, 2018, 9:46 pm
What I intend to do from this point on is to go back to blogging about crime fiction, books, and creativity. But things are somewhat different than they were last Wednesday evening, and I owe an update to everyone who read last week's post.
The morning after I wrote that post, last Thursday, I drove into the city to stay with my son. It was a difficult day for us and he wasn't capable of going to work, but by 6:30 that evening he'd stopped drinking and told me he wouldn't start up again. We didn't get much sleep that night, but he kept his word.
On Friday morning he showered, got dressed, and went to work. Given how he was feeling, it was an act of courage. He worked his shift while I cleaned up the apartment. He came home at the end of the day and we spent the evening talking. He hadn't bought alcohol while he was out, and he had nothing to drink that night.
I spent the weekend with him. We went out shopping for groceries, did a few little projects in the apartment and a load of laundry, and talked. He didn't go out to buy alcohol, and he stayed sober. He battled some very severe withdrawal symptoms all weekend, but he stuck with it.
On Monday he got up, showered, got dressed, and went to work. After he'd gone, I gave the cats fresh food and water to see them through the day, and I drove home. That evening when we talked on the phone, he told me that it was Day 4, still alcohol free. I should mention that this is something he never lies to me about. Ever. Not sure why, but he always tells me when he's drinking.
Tuesday, yesterday, was the real test. It was an entire day on his own, without me there overnight or in the morning to see him out the door. Yesterday was Day 5, zero alcohol. All the way through.
Today? I just spoke to him a half an hour ago. His work shift went well. He was heading for bed, tired and ready to sleep. Day 6 without alcohol is in the books.
And tomorrow?
I don't know. In the past when he's had a stretch like this he's felt a lot better physically. He likes the feeling. He knows if he can put a few more days together the withdrawal symptoms will lessen. People are telling him they could go away altogether in his second week. He's hopeful.
And I? How do I feel? Afraid to feel hopeful, I suppose. Immensely relieved. Proud of the battle he's fighting after such a terrible jag last week.
But realistic. My son is an alcoholic. That will never change. My hope is that tomorrow he'll be an alcoholic who doesn't have anything to drink that day.
That's how this works. One hour at a time, one day at a time.
Well done, son.
Wednesday, July 18, 2018, 9:46 pm
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Open Investigations
A blog that explores crime fiction writing and other topics of interest to both readers and authors.
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