Talking About Grief, Trauma, and Addiction

Good-day all! I hope everyone had a lovely Summer and is looking forward to Fall. Around here, Carla and I had an eventful time. Things have been going pretty well, but we’re still struggling with a few things. And lately, I’ve fallen into a hole regarding my recovering from Alcohol Use Disorder (AUD), which I was officially diagnosed with about six months ago. This has raised a whole slew of uncomfortable questions, a ton of anxiety, and has made me more prone to drinking than before!

Truly, something must be off here because admitting you have a problem doesn’t generally make it worse, right?! It’s supposed to lead to a sense of resolution, even if it is a scary one. And I’ve accepted the idea of being an addict (hereafter, the Big-A) a couple times already, and it never fit for me. It always just seemed wrong, and since I’m the one most worried about it, I find it hard to believe that I’m in denial.

Life Was Improving

What makes this period especially ugly is the fact that life was feeling pretty good for a change. During the past six months, I quit relying on benzos (for the most part) and found that my anxiety was getting significantly better. We adopted a new cat, Sombrero (a Mexican rescue), and he has been fitting in very nicely. Over the summer, we had a lovely garden party where friends came over to help clear out all the weeds and underbrush.

Things improved on the social front. Our neighbors opened up their house to us and we enjoyed a lovely BBQ with some other folks from around the block. I also had the opportunity to help out with their pear harvest, which was a bumper to say the least! I was feeling good about talking to my new counselor, who wasn’t pressuring me to accept that I was dealing with the Big-A and go cold turkey on the drinking and weed consumption (like my old one).

We also had a nice harvest of tomatoes and garlic, not to mention some cabbage, arugula, and kale. My father and I also had a fun run cutting back the laurel hedge, which meant some serious wood cutting (always a good workout and conveniently located in our backyard!) And there was good news on the health front. All my indicators were coming back positive, which alleviated my health worries considerably. And we found our way out of financial hardship, thanks to my folks and their generosity.

I even began drinking regular coffee again, which has always been an indicator that my anxiety was under control.

A Snag

Alas, I hit a low point after a series of late nights where Carla and I were “partying” a little too much. I was already concerned, of course, and I began making cutbacks again. I’ve also instituted some “clean nights” where I wouldn’t touch weed. I also had my first totally dry and clean night in the past two years (without needing a reason like sickness). But I didn’t follow up with it and felt like a failure for it. I also had a string of nights where I drank too much and kept falling asleep on the couch or the toilet. And the health worries were adding up since I was tired of feeling hungover, hazy, and/or dizzy the next hazy.

This led me to the tentative conclusion that moderation wasn’t working, that my previous therapist was right, and that I needed to quit drinking cold turkey and permanently. And there was a bit of a precedent, since I did have an unhealthy relationship with drinking before all this happened. But of course, any amount of alcohol is unhealthy and I enjoyed the ritual of beers with dinner – i.e. it was not an addiction, but an admittedly unhealthy habit.

In any case, the idea that I am an addict and always have had that as a problem scares the hell out of me since having some cold beer with dinner and my wife having wine is a key part of our ritual and a source of relaxation and unwinding at the end of a challenging day.

As I mentioned last time, I turned to alcohol and marijuana as a coping mechanism after Carla had her stroke. I was initially worried that it was a red flag and that it could mean I was an alcoholic. But I was told by people who know – and I mean, really know! – what addiction is like, that I was okay, and it was understandable. The specific bullet points I stuck to (and still tell myself) were that:

I didn’t lose control when drinking (no black outs, no lost time, etc.)I didn’t drink at any time other than eveningsI didn’t drink when I got sick (for obvious health reasons)It didn’t take over my life or interfere with my ability to take care of Carla or do my jobI didn’t experience withdrawal symptoms when I didn’t drink

And of course, I told myself I would do whatever it takes to get clean after Carla was better. The only problem was, life didn’t get easier once Carla was home. First, there was the overwhelming nature of her care. I was doing everything for her and was feeling burnt all the time – driving her to all of her appointments, to dialysis, cooking her meals, assisting her around the house, taking care of our cat, doing the shopping, taking care of the house, finances, etc. Then, we learned that our cat Jasper, who was so happy to have his Mommy home, had cancer. He died three months later and we were devastated. And then there was the financial hardships, the rat infestation, me getting a MRSA infection, etc.

In other words, the problems remained and my “coping mechanism” was still in use. I was diagnosed with AUD and my health care practitioners all agreed that quitting gradually was the way to go. And I showed some positive signs, which included a gradual reduction, a few dry nights where I didn’t show any signs of alcohol withdrawal, and I was turning to non-alcoholic drinks to replace the beer or wine I’d usually be drinking.

But a slip can make you feel like a failure when you start thinking it’s all or nothing. And a series of bad nights can leave you feeling that there’s a pattern you haven’t broken yet. And the rationalizations I still tell myself feel like excuses. I’ve accepted the A-label and can’t seem to think or find my way around it! I know this will pass sooner or later, but the past week or so has been hell on Earth.

And the pathetically ironic thing here is that by thinking this, I’ve become more anxious, less functional, and more likely to drink than ever! Thinking that I’m an addict (with all that implies) has caused me to lose a lot of hope and looking for artificial sources of relief.

Resolution?

So I tell myself the same thing: I’m not the Big-A, but I do have a problem. The problem is life, anxiety, and a string of terrible events and stressors. The drinking has been a symptom of the problem, not the problem itself. And I need to reduce and quit looking for artificial sources of relief gradually. The alternate approach, all-or-nothing, seems to be having the opposite effect. So perhaps that’s NOT what is needed or what will work for me in this context.

Maybe that’s not an excuse, but a simple statement of fact. That is what everyone who knows me – my wife, my family, my friends, and health care practitioners – are telling me. Maybe I should listen to them, and to my heart, and not the voices in my head. They have never been helpful to me as it is!