Patience is Hard Even for the Dalai Lama

"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions”-Rainer Maria Rilke

Within the last 5 days, I've had a bright, shiny piece of hope float my way again; I had 2 days in a row when I drank like a "normal" person and my relationship with alcohol seemed different.  I love when this happens--I jump up and down for joy, a parade marches down the street in my honor (in my head), and I want anyone and everyone to notice that there's enough wine left in the bottle to drown a mouse.  This jubilation I feel is the equivalent of the excitement a parent feels when their child has just taken his first step or first poop on his own--NO ONE ELSE GIVES A FLYING FIG!  But it is SUCH a huge deal to us that we'll risk alienating friends and boring family members to tears just to recount the story one-more-time (preferably accompanied by many photos).  We just want the world to know...we just do.

I played it smart this time, however, and made little fanfare of my 3.5 and 4 unit days because I think I'm finally settling into the mercurial ways of naltrexone.  I've given a lot of lip service in this blog about the TSM rollercoaster ride, but my mind and heart were always laser beam focused on being cured yesterday and looking for any little sign of my miraculous recovery.  I was convinced that I was special and that things would happen differently and quickly for me...what a birdbrain.

I'm up against a lot.  Years of habitual drinking, chockablock full of imbibing for every reason under the sun--drinking when I'm happy, drinking when I'm sad, drinking when I'm bored, drinking for confidence, drinking when I'm scared, drinking to celebrate, drinking just because, and the best of all, drinking to avoid myself, reality, and laundry.  So I think it's kind of foolish to expect a smooth ride or a short journey and I think I might just be starting to understand this because the 3.5 & 4 unit days were book-ended by 7 & 8 unit days and I didn't panic or beat myself up.  I didn't dwell on it either, I took note and moved on.

The roots are deep and stubborn....I started to truly use and abuse alcohol when my father died.  I was 27 and angry and I discovered that a generous tumbler of red wine on the bedside table helped me go to sleep and ease my pain.  I don't remember if I did this every night and I certainly didn't think I had a problem at this point because I was grieving--I used alcohol to ease my grief and avoid my grief.  I thought, doesn't everybody do this?  Certainly the Irish do.

Why am I bringing this past junk up?  Because its part of the massive structure that I've built up over the years  that needs to be dismantled by naltrexone and my awareness of this and keeping it on my radar will actually make this journey a little less confusing and a little less painful.

Not to get all Jungian on you, but this is indeed part of the work, too.  Looking at our muddled emotions and fears and working through things is all part of this journey, like it or not....and I usually don't like it, but I will try.  Like my beloved, Stuart Smalley says, "face it, then you can erase it."

Before naltrexone:  42-50 units per week • Week 1:  18units • Week 2:  32units • Week: 3:  39units • Week: 4: 49units • Week 5: 32units • Week: 6:  25units • Week 7:  27units • Week 8:  28units • Week 9:  34units, 1 AF day. • Week 10:  42units • Week 11: 44units • Week 12:  39 • Week 13:  42