Christmas: To Drink or Not to Drink

This past week has been awesome.

Since picking my oldest son up from daycare on Friday night, all I’ve been doing is hanging out with my wife and the two boys, with a bit of extended family thrown in here in there. In spite of everything, the family continues to support me – even, and especially my in-laws – and make me like I’m still part of the gang.

For some reason, I feel like this week has been a holiday for me. Yeah sure, weeks have gone by before doing nothing but watch movies and tv all day, but those were not holidays; those were painful days crippled by depression, anxiety, fear of talking to people and more. Hardly relaxing, but this week...almost for the first time I can remember....I`ve actually enjoyed myself. Again, it`s been awesome.

The biggest factor by far has been being around my wife and kids almost 24x7. We even went to a Christmas pageant tonight...in a church! A year ago you can bet I would have found my way out of it and down to my dealer’s place for my own Christmas mass.


This week I've somehow been able to shut out the looming stresses that will begin again next week, so my biggest worries have been when to take the guys to the park, what movies to watch with them, and what to make for dinner. The Star Wars marathon on Spike has been a bonus too.

Now all this being said, two high-stress events are looming on the 48-hour horizon. They’re both Christmas dinners and they both represent potential black holes of anxiety. Recently I decided it made a lot of sense to cut booze out of my life, the fact that it’s been a week since my last drink, and my history over the last decade of just drinking my way through the holidays, I’m battling what drinking strategy to take with these two dinners.



Past tactics of drowning of sorrows away are out of the question, which leaves me with two options. One is to continue my abstinence right through the dinners and onto the new year, without so much as looking back. The other is to have just 2-3 drinks to relax a bit and increase the chances of my having a good time.


Right now I’m leaning toward the “just a few drinks” option, but even with the last week being relatively easy, I know it`s a risky move. With drinks flowing constantly I don’t know that I’ll be able to stop at just 2 or 3. It’s a slippery slope to 10 or 12, and reinforcing my (self fulfilling prophecy?) role as the obnoxious drunk of the family. If that’s not enough, I talked with my wife about it today and she openly admitted she would feel better if I just didn’t touch a drop.


On the other hand, as bad as I know it sounds, I know a couple of drinks will help me relax and ultimately have a better time. Plus, without so much as a couple, I can easily see myself having a terrible time, sulking in a corner about the fact that I can’t drink, and how much more bearable the night would be with only one or two glasses of wine.


Less than 24 hours until the first test, as I know it will be for countless others battling with similar issues. Good luck to you. Will report back with results, I hope not in five days with nothing to brag about.

Proctrastination Day 255: Conclusion

Suffice to say, five days wouldn’t have passed since my last progress report if I had something to brag about.

In spite of what I believe was genuine optimism on my part, Friday’s attempt to make progress on my years of overdue tax filings (corporate and personal) ended exactly like the 254 that came before it; that progress measuring precisely zero.

I watched another movie after The International. I spent a good hour simply leafing through bills and statements that had already been properly filed. And I found no less than three different ways of categorizing (a.k.a. making precariously balanced piles, almost inviting their tumble so as to give me a completely illegitimate excuse for my progress to be delayed further) the files that I had in front of me.

I’ll definitely be writing more about the issue of my taxes as they have been the bane of my existence for the better part of the past decade, both a direct and significant factor in the depression, anxiety and – ultimately as a result – drug abuse that I have battled in more recent years.

So why don’t I just do the work? It’s not difficult, mostly involving almost soothing data entry of expenses into a giant Excel spreadsheet I built for the purpose. The longer I put it off, the higher the anxiety and steeper the consequences. Not to mention that it’s not just me, but the financial status of my wife and children that rely on me getting it done.

The short answer is that I just don’t know. Again, more on this later, but the bottom line is that something gets in the way of me getting off the ground. It’s a case of an unstoppable force (taxes) meeting am immovable object (me), with the results so far being a stalemate. Something has to change.

On the plus side – and for my sanity, I have to remind myself of the pluses – Friday wasn’t all bad. In fact, from 5:30 onwards it was bliss; I was spending the first night with my wife and kids in a week, and the first in what will end up being 10 full days with them thanks to the holidays. And it has been bliss since then – being a father, a husband, a member of the family again for longer than 48 hours. It feels...human.

What’s more, I do actually have a reason to brag now that I’m writing this. As of this morning, it’s been a week since my last drink; a conscious decision, but one i really haven;t though much about since making it. I like this feeling, although Christmas dinners may present unique challenges.

Procrastination: Day 255, 1:13 p.m.

It turns out The International wasn't quite the edge-of-your-seat thriller that I thought it was going to be. It was, however, extremely effective at keeping me in a constant state of "just about" to start doing my taxes.

Number of expenses, invoices and other tax items processed: Zero

I'm leaving to pick my son up from daycare at about 4:15. That's three hours; plenty of time to get some good data entry under my belt...more, in fact, than I've managed to do in the last three weeks.

Plenty of time. Today's going to be different. I'm just going to fill up my coffee and...

Procrastination: Day 255, 11:26 a.m.

Today's going to be different. That's what I said last night. That's what I said again this morning. And so far it's...a bit different. Here's why.

7:30 - I didn't actually wake up, but a did hear my alarm before turning it off.

9:42 - I'm up. It turns out that a reciprocating saw makes for a much better alarm clock than my cell phone. My sister's having work done on her place - hence the reciprocating saw, and a further feeling of shame and inadequacy watching my baby sister's life bloom in success as mine continues to swirl around the bowl.

11:17 - The methadone and coffee have finally kicked in. I no longer ache and I think I feel a tiny fragment of motivation within me. I start to move towards the 18" pile of receipts and invoices I have to enter into my big Excel spreadsheet I'm using to prep my overdue taxes.

11:29 - I have the laptop open (obviously), the files in three random files around me, and I thought a wise first step, to warm up the brain and the typing fingers, would be to do a quick blog check (0 comments, 0 readers, not bad for first week) and, while I'm at it a quick post on where I am on the recovery process.

Oh, and The International, starring Clive Owen and Naomi Watts, just started on The Movie Network. But that doesn't matter today's going to be different. I'm seeing my wife and kids tonight and I'm going to tell them what a great, productive day it's been. Today is going to be different.

Today is going to be different.

Procrastination: Day 254

Today was...again...the day when I was definitely going to get around to making huge progress on my taxes. So much so that I made plans to meet with my dad's girlfriend at her house to review progress and gather another box of files in my long overdue, long put off, monstrous task of getting caught up on 3 years of unfiled corporate and personal taxes.

Here's how it went.

7:30 - alarm goes off, not heard due to deep sleep

10:51 - wake up, swear at lateness and pain from time since last methadone dose (27 hours), which today I have to pick up from the drug store

10:55 - limp in freezing cold weather to bus stop, wait 10 minutes until bus arrives and...I realize I don't have my bus pass.

11:01 - limp back to bus stop in freezing weather, now armed with bus pass

11:34 - obtain weekly carrries of methadone from kind pharmacist, ingesting one bottle before leaving drug store

12:54 - methadone and - just brewed - coffee are starting to have desired effect - i.e. slight sense of motivation, ability to walk without limping

2:51 - having finished watching "Wanted" starring Angelina Jolie, call made to dad's girlfriend to cancel on "accounting date"

3:42 - wake up from short, unplanned nap to make plans with old friend to get together for drinks at 5:30

I don't think I need to go further. My supposed, long awaited day of immense productivity on the looming tax front has again evaporated, at least with the expectation of drinks and steaks coming within the the next couple hours. But at least tomorrow will be different, for sure.

Enough Time Has Gone By Already

It's been months since my last use, since my "graduation" from recovery, and I'm still not "snapping out of" my rut. My family, my support network..almost everyone other than one of my doctors and therapists is losing patience.

As I've explained, my wife recently initiated a separation because a) I needed a change from my daily routine of hoping I would get something done, but ultimately and literally sitting on the couch doing nothing all day, and b) because she needed a break from me.

It's been over a month now and I'm getting more and more frustrated...with myself, and with her. I've got a part time job, I'm kicking the alcohol (last of my addictions other than cigarettes) and I'm making progress on my outstanding taxes (a looming problem that affects her, and has been going on for a couple of years now)...all what she told me were the requirements of me moving back in with the kids.

Yes, I've still got a lot of work to do, especially with the taxes, but isn't a month enough of a break/punishment? Worse still, she still responds to every statement I make about my depression and addiction issues with "how do I know?"

How long is it going to take for her and others to believe me again? How much separation/punishment is it going to take? Am I asking too much of the one person who has been my biggest support?

But Feeling Lonely

I know what I just said in my last post about not being alone, but that doesn't mean that there aren't times of lonliness...and today happens to be one of those day for me. Right now, for whatever reason, I don't feel like I'm welcomed or wanted anywhere.

One reason is that it's the end of the weekend, which means I'm not going to see my two young kids until the end of the week. My wife and I are separated for a while and I'm staying at my sister's house in the meantime.

Let me be clear that I'm not blaming my sister in the least. Separation was a heartbreaker for me, but I am pretty sure it was for her too. Plus, for a number of reasons, it was very understandable. It's a long story, maybe for another post.

So after saying goodbye to the wife and kids once again, that old sense of lonilness comes back with it. I obviously don't feel welcome in my own house. While incredibly and obviously supportive, I can't keep thinking that her patience (and welcomeness towards me) is getting lower and lower. In spite of their huge financial help and other support, I just can't feel welcome in my parents' or in-laws' house, because I'm certain that underneath they are filled with rage, embarassment and a growing impatience with the liability that is me.

So, today's going to suck, but I'll get over it. I have to.

You Are Not Alone

One of the first big milestones in my recovery was recognizing that I wasn't the only one who let drugs take destroy my life. Once my family found out how badly I screwed up, I spiralled into a bottomless hole of depression.

I spent all my money. I took money from the mortgage. I lied to family and friends. I even stole from them. Anything to get the next high.

I must be the worst husband in the world, surely the worst father, and probably the worst friend or work buddy.

I was a really bad, dumb guy, and the life I used to have was gone.

Not only would this make me more depressed. This kind of thinking was seriously getting in the way of getting better. Not only did the stress make me want to score, but it got right in the way of me being able to start putting my life back together.

I learned this lesson going to my first group therapy program. There were about a dozen guys there, who'd all been there before. My first thought was that I was in the wrong place. I was nothing like these guys. I went to university. I had a $100K salary. And I'd neve been in jail.

But as we went around the group for check in, it hit me like a brick. Sure we might all look different, but the stories that every shared - stealing from family, maxing out credit cards, taking 20 minutes to go grab milk - sounded almost exactly like mine. And over the next few weeks, I heard the same stories from lifetime criminals to retail clerks to accounts and company execs.

You are not alone. You might think you're the worst guy in the world for what you did, but someone out there has done the same, or worse. You can make $8/hour or $350K a year. All the stories are the same.

You have company. Your are not alone. And bad behaviour doesn't make you a bad person.