Those Freaking Memories Again

Memories

 

5 years ago was my great vacation of embarrassment.  Of course, Facebook memories will never let any of us forget that.  There were some awesome times during this vacation too, but every picture I see reminds me of the total overindulgence on my part and I feel my face turning red.

I got up early every morning to walk the beach.  Then, I poured myself a glass of wine to start my day  (that’s funny because my glass held almost the entire bottle).  I started hanging out with everyone else after noon at the beach.  I went to the beach with  Mangoritas in hand.  I was usually passed out around 2 or  3 on the beach. Then, I would wake up sunburned and groggy.  Around 4 or so I would make my way back to the house to shower and get ready for the evening.  The evening was about Rum runners or whatever fancy drink we decided on that night.  I was downing  shots of swirl flavored alcohol or Fireball and if we were at the house, I was usually the first in bed.  Then, I did it again the next day.  I got into fights when I was awake.  My daughter, my cousin and my husband all received my drunken wrath.  This week was definitely me at my worse.  It was supposed to be so awesome.  This trip cost so much money and took so much planning, and I drank it away.

I needed help but I wasn’t ready.  My drinking prior to this trip had already escalated to an all time high.  I didn’t leave my house much so mostly only close family and friends were aware of how bad I had gotten.   The trip shone the light on my drinking for everyone.  I went home and didn’t drink for about a month.  I wasn’t supposed to be drinking so all of my drinking was done by myself at my house.  I think my husband gave up and we went back to “socially” drinking around March the next year.  I remember that time though.  Sneaking vodka in my room.  I had it hidden in my closet.  I would pour it into my diet coke and drink from morning until night.  I remember feeling like I couldn’t breath until I had that first drink.  I remember hating myself a lot.

Memories.  I can’t forget.  As much as it would be nice to go on and act as if I have always been the way I am now, I have to remember.   Sometimes that alcoholism tries to sneak into my head and tell me I’m not really an alcoholic, I was just depressed.  But those memories don’t lie and they don’t go away.  Maybe one day I’ll be able to look at the pictures without my face turning all shades of red.  Not today.

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