Which is something I never thought I would say.

This post is going to let you guys into a personal aspect of my life. It is a serious topic, but it probably won't be presented in too serious of a manner. That just isn't who I am.

Since I was 18, I have been a pretty hard drinker. In my "prime", I used to drink Everclear straight from the bottle. (sorry, liver.) Left to my own devices and with alcohol in hand, I could easily finish a 1.75 liter in an evening because I have utterly no self control or moderation to speak of.

"Why is the rum always gone? What the hell is she doing?!"
~Anyone who left me alone for fucking 20 minutes

When drunk, I was prone to harassing things and documenting it. Poor Jensen, I treated him like a piece of meat.

So what made me a quitter after 10 years of destroying myself and damaging friendships in a vodka drenched whirlwind of fuckery? A visit from my sort-of cousin.
She is known to knock back quite a few drinks, and me, being the competitive dumbass that I am, decided "well, I am gonna keep up with her!".

Here we see mistake number one.

For two to three days, I can't really remember, I filled myself with high gravity beer, vodka, rum, kraken, assorted mini bottles. Who knows how many times I snuck off to vomit, and chased the taste out of my mouth with another shot. I was almost impressed with myself until I felt the hot breath of a deathly hangover on my neck.

I had been used to drinking a lot, since about 4 times a week I would get 6 cans of high gravity beer and knock those back while sitting home alone and wallowing in my own depression. Sending messages at 3am in the morning that I regret every. fucking. time. Getting messages back of "You're drunk again, aren't you?". That feeling of shame that boils into a frothy brew of indignation when I wrote back "NO!" and watched my spelling and slurring in case someone KNOWS-KNOWS.

I had evolved from an occasional drinker to a functioning alcoholic that hid it well.

And when my beautiful sort-of cousin came to town and I drank myself beyond sick and to the point that I threw up fucking BLOOD, I decided to reevaluate my life choices. After a week of not being able to eat without throwing up and my stomach twisting with fire, I swallowed my pride and went to the hospital. I was sure I had burst an ulcer. After some CT scan's and a rather rough butt fingering that lacked any romantic finesse, they arrived at the conclusion that I had damaged my stomach lining but nothing too serious.

Doctor: "So what did you do to cause this?"

"Oh, and we found an ovarian cyst. Probably need to get that checked out again."
~ Curt ER doctor

WEeeEEEEEEeeEELL... shit.

I headed home pumped with three bags of saline, a bag of medication, a rather sore chocolate starfish, a bruised ego, and a determination to change. My body is already deteriorating far faster than it should and plagued with illness still diagnosed, I really should stop making my amble to the grave into a running gait.

So here I am, at the precipice of two months without drinking. I had a little help from pain pills to get me through the rougher of the days, and I drink about a gallon of green tea a day. Aside from pissing like a race horse... I actually feel GOOD.

And I realized last night, that I don't really miss it. Without drinking, I have had more time to focus on my hobbies, to complete projects. To be PRODUCTIVE. To finally start a blog that so many people have pushed me to do but I never had the sense of self worth to follow through with. Until now.

Will I never drink again? That isn't really my goal. I want to be a person that can sit down, have two mixed drinks with polite company, and move on with my day. I don't want to be the sloppy, red headed fat girl begging for just "one more drink!" that I have been for 10 years.

Allow me to present the first project I started and finished as a sober woman.

Follow me for more funny stories, adventures into the macabre, and subversive old lady crafts!

*Cross stitch pattern by Epicstitchery on Etsy

I Just Hit Two Months Sober!

Which is something I never thought I would say.

When drunk, I was prone to harassing things and documenting it. Poor Jensen, I treated him like a piece of meat.

I had evolved from an occasional drinker to a functioning alcoholic that hid it well.

WEeeEEEEEEeeEELL... shit.

Will I never drink again? That isn't really my goal. I want to be a person that can sit down, have two mixed drinks with polite company, and move on with my day. I don't want to be the sloppy, red headed fat girl begging for just "one more drink!" that I have been for 10 years.