After my mother died, I let alcohol run my life. Then, after 15 months of sobriety, I pretended I could control my drinking. And for awhile, sometimes, I could control myself to just two or three drinks during a night out.
Last night, I put a Couch on the Roof. A friend of mine used this phrase only to refer to those near-blackout nights that I would have, which would result in some negative consequence.
The haul and balance of such nights are tremendous. I wake sick, in pain, distraught, and disgusted for wearing the facade of a girl I don’t really know.
Today marks the start of a new battle with sobriety.. again. I want to be social and not a disaster. I want to be less shy without being polluted. I want to be the girl I was and not the shell of a woman I am.
Sorry to any of those who have been part of couch moving nights (or days). I’ve moved my last couch. Pray for strength for me.