The Crash

Monday, January 1, 2018

I’m finally doing it!  My best friend Carl doesn’t believe me that I can make it through January without a single drink, but I know I can.  He pointed out that I tried this challenge before last year.  And the year before that.  And the year before that…  No, I am a man who truly enjoys alcohol.  It’s been my friend, my comforter, my release valve since I snuck into my father’s liquor cabinet at the tender age of 11.  It keeps me focused.  It helps me relax.  I feel that I’m a better person, a better friend with a little bit of Irish Courage in my belly.  Some people have said that I should cut back, and this is my way of shutting those losers up.  George Adkin in accounting started a betting pool about how long I can stay dry.  Almost all of the people in my department have gotten in on it.  I seriously can’t believe these losers in accounting are clamoring to ‘get in on the action’.

But I have a secret, dear diary.  Something that is going to put me over the top this time.  I’ve bought a big old bag of sunflower seeds.  Just a bag of salted ones that have shells on.  Every time I feel the urge to indulge, I’ll just have a handful.  Seriously, the bag weighs 1 pound.  I doubt I’ll be able to make it through the whole bag in a month.  I’ve got this.

Tuesday, January 2, 2018

So…  That didn’t go as well as I hoped.  The bag of seeds is only half full now.  But I think that’s probably my fault.  I was grabbing big handfuls instead of focusing on filling my palm only each time I reached in for a fresh craving.  I still have plenty, especially since I got myself a measuring cup so I only have a quarter cup each time.  Yesterday wasn’t ideal, but it was my first day of trying, so I’m not worried.  I got this.

Thursday, January 4, 2018

Um…  So the seeds are gone.  I went and got myself another big bag.  That… that was harsh.  I was smart and got all of the liquor out of the house on December 31st in preparation for the challenge.  I didn’t think I thought about alcohol this much.  Christ, no wonder my wife left me. This is going to be a little harder than I thought. I'm a Bushmills guy. I never went in with that Jack Daniels crowd. A few bottles of my favorite liquor and I'm ready to face the world. It's funny; even sitting here writing about Bushmill whiskey is making my heart pound and my hands shake a little. I know that no good can come of continuing this challenge, but I'm determined to see this through this time. I got this.

Tuesday, January 9, 2018

I went through both bags of sunflower seeds. I need to get myself bigger bags of seeds. Tonya approached me during lunch in the cafeteria. She said that she was worried about me. When I asked her why, she said that I looked 'frantic' at the team meeting this morning and that I had been acting differently since the beginning of the year. I can't lie, talking to Tonya one-on-one like that was an enviable accomplishment. The woman refuses to talk to men without at least one of the female staff with her. Not to mention the pack of women on the move. They remind me of grazing antelope right before the lion (or a man) comes looking for a meal.

Damn, that was a weird thing to write. But I can't help it. That's what it reminds me of. I even leaned out of my cubicle to watch them, fluttering around the water cooler until a Devon approached and they all scattered... Sorry, diary. I've been having the strangest thoughts lately. And although I would never blame Mr. Alcohol for the lapses, it's a strong indicator. Maybe quitting and heading to the bar would make me a little more focused, but I really want to beat my record this year. Carl's always on my case about my drinking. I want to show him that I'm perfectly capable of stopping any time I want. I just have to apply myself. This is no different than a new project in the business. If I just focus on the problem - and the fact that there are only 22 days left in January - I'll get through this. Yeah, it's not a problem. I got this

Saturday, January 13, 2018

I ordered a 50-pound bag of seeds this morning. The big bags just aren't working out. Besides that, this is starting to be an expensive habit. I'm so tired of people sending sympathetic looks at me. Ever since Tonya came to me at lunch that one time, the mood in the department has changed. My coworkers used to laugh and snigger at me. Now there are the whispers and the pointing. I think I prefer the laughter.

I don't see what the big deal is! Sure, my memory's been a little foggy since I gave up alcohol, but that could happen to anyone. It's only a month. Jeez. There's no reason I can't do this. I got this.

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

Where the hell are my seeds!  I thought that at least one thing would go right after the crappy day I’ve had.  My manager called me into his office to tell me that my performance review was coming up in a few weeks and that my recent performance was not favorable.  Man, I gotta get it together.  I went out to shoot some hoops with Carl.  I almost begged off, but I figured that it was a better idea to go out than to camp by the mailroom and pounce on the mailman to give me my fix.  Carl was in full ‘Preacher Mode’, telling me how I needed help and that I couldn’t dry out safely on my own.  Even if he isn’t a preacher like his father, I can detect the urgent timbre of his father in his voice.  Richard Garner was a fire-and-brimstone pastor at a Baptist church in the Deep South.  Carl certainly got it honest.

It was so infuriating!  After the game, he took me to a pub nearby that wouldn’t mind our sweaty casual attire.  The liquors at the bar were calling me so loudly that I was forced to leave after a half-hour of suffering.  Carl had our food boxed up and paid for everything himself.  He’s a real stand-up guy… when he’s not trying to make me act and think like he does.  Where was I going with this?  Oh, right.  Dinner.  

He wanted to have our meal at my 1-bedroom apartment.  Everything was going fine until he saw the place.  There were piles of started and abandoned projects and paperwork on every available surface except the kitchen table.  Glasses of water that I’d poured and subsequently forgotten were scattered along the kitchen counter and into the living room.  Dishes were piled in the sink.  There were sunflower seed shells all over the floor.  I happened to have done my laundry yesterday.  Or had that been the day before?  I’ve been having memory lapses.  They’ve gotten worse since I quit drinking.  Carl noticed that I stumbled across the threshold, hoping to cover it up by increasing my pace.  

Carl noticed.  He ALWAYS notices things like that.

After packing me off to bed, he cleaned my apartment like he was getting paid to do it.  He even did the windows!  I felt horrible making him do that for me.  I usually keep the place relatively clean.  It’s just that the shakes and memory thing makes a lazy turd.  And don’t get me wrong.  My crappy apartment would never be featured on HGTV or anything.  But I was usually capable of keeping things off the floor.  What the hell is the matter with me?

Then there was the way I ate my food.  Like a starving man who was suddenly offered a banquet.  I ate everything, even Carl’s meal.  Carl actually laughed at my appalling table manners.  Instead of commenting, he brought me glass after glass of sweet, sweet water.  When he asked me when I ate last, I couldn’t answer.  I didn’t really know.

I’ve been bringing my seeds to my job to keep myself preoccupied.  This is getting ridiculous.

Friday, January 19, 2018

I hope you appreciate the lengths I go through to keep you updated, diary.  I had a grand mal seizure right in the middle of the office!  I was getting up to go to lunch, wondering why someone had burnt toast in the break room.  The next thing I know, I’m looking up at half the people in the office as I lay in the middle of the walkway.  Even worse, someone had freaked out and called 911!  I mean, really?  What right did my stupid coworkers have to make a scene like that?  I tried to tell them all that I was fine, but nobody believed me.  They were carrying out conversations as if I wasn’t there, casting worried glances at me.  It was like I was there, but not.  It’s probably for the best that I wasn’t hearing what they were saying.  Things kept cutting in and out on me.  I was so tired…  Did I eat at all this week?  Flipping through my mental calendar, I was shocked at the missing parts of each day since the 13th.  I could not recall eating or drinking anything since that meal with Carl.

Now I’m in the hospital.  I can’t afford this!  Carl and his perky wife, Sandra, just left after bringing me some clothes, my cell phone charger, my meds so that I can confirm them with the nurses, and of course you.  This is all so unnecessary!  I’m fine, have been since I woke up on the floor at my job.  I’ll admit that the supper tray was the best I’ve had after almost a week of fasting without water to sustain me.  I just--

(Interrupted Entry)

 The doctor came to talk to me.  I told him immediately that I was more embarrassed than hurt.  I let him know that I wanted to be discharged as quickly and discreetly as possible.  Dr. Kinds informed me that I wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.  Based on my back-stabbing EX-best friend’s observations, the doctor had put a mental health form on me.  Should I try to leave the hospital, security would be called and I would be brought back.  He then told me that the meds they’ve been giving me to manage my alcohol withdrawal would likely make me unable to safely operate a vehicle, especially since my body betrayed me by seizing.  DAMMIT!  I have to work first thing Monday morning.  This can’t be happening!!

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

I’m still mad enough to spit about this whole ‘Formed’ nonsense.  I refused to speak to Carl when he came by Sunday afternoon to talk to me.  I screamed at him about his treachery and demanded he leave.  He ended up speaking to Nurse Gladys on his way out.  I wish I knew what other lies he managed to fill the nurse’s head with, but I’ve been saddled with an IV pole and firm orders from the doctor that I wasn’t to move without the nurse there to help me after the fall I had on Monday.  I still can’t believe this is happening!  All I wanted to do was prove to everyone that I could go without liquor for a single month.  It should not have been this hard and complicated.

Wednesday, January 31, 2018

I’ve had a long, lonely time to reflect here in the hospital.  I’ll admit that I’m still pissed at my best friend.  But I guess he had a point when he tried to talk to me last week.  After all the alcohol was out of my system.  The staff here had worked tirelessly to help me piece my life back together.  The doctor faxed a note to my boss clarifying the situation for him and the general reason for my absence from my job.  Once that was taken care of, I could relax and finally accept some of the help they were trying to offer me.  I’ve somehow become my father without even realizing it was happening.

But unlike my dad, I was ready to get the help I needed to get better.  No way was I going to drink myself into an early grave like he did, leaving my mother to grieve for me.  I talked to Carl two nights ago and apologized for yelling and cussing him out like I did.  He was cool with it, especially when I told him that I had appointments with a therapist and a counselor to start at an AA meeting nearby.  He was proud of me, and that was a good feeling for me.  When he stopped by earlier, he brought me a package of sunflower seeds.  We both got a kick out of that. 

I don’t know what’s going to happen next, and that terrifies me.  But I’ll have people to help me stay dry.  And this time next year, who knows?  Maybe I’ll be tough enough to help someone else who’s in a situation like I was.  Here’s to good health, diary.  I’m working on it.  And to do that, I need to embrace a new slogan for myself:  

I don’t got this.