Ack, Steph. He's been drinking that much he may get DTs, or am I forgetting something about his health? At any rate, I hope something opens up for him soon.

I ended up taking flexeril and a nap. Did not do any more admin work today. Just finished cooking, eating, and cleaning up from dinner; now it's time for shower and bed. And I didn't get to the grocery store (the one near me closes in 20 min, and I just can't hustle) so for the 2nd day in a row I won't have milk in my coffee, woe.

It's interesting (objectively; subjectively I fucking hate it) that my modes are either being super hard on myself or I rationalize everything (like buying stripper heels while trying to get out of debt). And because I'm so talented, I can do both at the same time, like I am right now.

Rationalization: my back was hurting and it was hard to focus, so I took a nap. Boss said I could rest and take it easy.

Self-flagellation: Yeah, and then I fucked about on the internet for hours. So now I either report my hours as worked and get a short paycheck, or stay up working and be all sleepy and stupid tomorrow morning.

I hate myself, I'm lazy, I'll never get out of debt, I can't do anything right, StW doesn't really care about me - these are the messages echoing over and over again in my head. I'm putting them out here (again) to acknowledge them in an "I see you, Mara" [link] kind of way.

Thank god I only get like this once or twice a month now (thanks, PMS, you moody bitch), because I don't know how I kept going when this was all day, every day. I mean, I've been in physical and mental pain for a week, and yet I went to work this morning, I worked while I was there (if not a full day), I cooked a meal from scratch and did All The Dishes, did some menu planning/made a grocery list/estimated how much it would cost, and synched my budget software. And I called the Dept of Rev in my old state to find out where the hell my refund is (it was transmitted today. coincidence or them waiting for people to bitch to release the money?). And I didn't buy cigarettes, so that makes it 5 days no smoking.

That is pretty functional, considering. Two years ago I'd be curled up in the fetal, crying, and maybe choke down a Luna bar for dinner. Chain smoke on the screened porch and watch everything on the DVR.

Right. Shower, read a bit, and bed. I hope I have some Tylenol with codeine left, but I may not. I'm pretty sure I subluxed a vertebra earlier and that's why the right side of my back is screaming. And no, not doing physical work, just doing something random at my house. Again, PMS, you can kiss my ass. The line forms behind L.

When I'm dead, I want you to put me in a Wonder Woman outfit and push me out of a moving plane

I can't believe I didn't predict where that link would take me. I love this from the comments:

Okay… Soooooo I told Mr. Amazing I wanted to be cremated and put in a bubble gum machine… so everyone could get a quarters worth… and scatter me to all four corners… cause no one wants to risk this shit coming back… and … apparently he thinks bone fragments will jam the machine… but really… it was his only argument.

Ack, Steph. He's been drinking that much he may get DTs,

Apparently, yes. He drinks a LOT, hard liquor as well as beer. A LOT. He's been getting sick in the mornings, apparently, and it's not hangover-sick; it's withdrawal. He drinks as soon as he gets up, to stop the symptoms.

I'm worried sick about him.

That sounds like a hell of an undertaking Steph. I wish you all much strength and clarity.

wrod. Maybe someone at AA has some advice?

It's a scary thing, Tep, but he's looking for help and that's an excellent sign. I know quite a few alcoholics and many of them have done really well with treatment.

When DH went into inpatient rehab, we had to wait about a week for a spot to open up, and intake advised him to keep up his maintenance use (in a "we are not advising you to do anything illegal, but..." way) so I am hopeful that someone at a clinic can give your brother some good advice until he can get in somewhere. And hopefully something will open up soon, because that wait is no fun for anyone.

Oh Steph, what a scary situation. Sending many vibes to your brother.

I know quite a few alcoholics and many of them have done really well with treatment.

At last official count, my Granddad (on my mom's side), my Dad, and (probably) my Mom are alcoholics. My Granddad was a for-real liter-of-whiskey-a-day alcoholic (not a fifth; a liter); my Dad pretty much only drank beer, but by god he drank astonishing amounts of it; and my Mom was mostly beer and wine, with the occasional vodka & tonic in a plastic cup while she drove us to school (for real). The only reason I say my mom *probably* is an alcoholic is that she managed to dial her drinking way way back to a few drinks a week now. I've never known anyone to drink like her and not have to quit totally, but she's really truly just a social drinker now.

My Dad has been sober for just over 10 years, and my Granddad drank for about 50 years before being sober for about 15 before he died (unfortunately, in his case, 50 years of drinking the a distillery's worth of whiskey really did fry his brain, but his body just kept going).

What was my point? Oh. I told my brother many times today that if our Granddad, Dad, and Mom could quit (or dial it way back), then he can, too. Dad went cold turkey; our Granddad had medical help of some sort, because you don't cold turkey your way out of the kind of drinking he did.

Mom, Dad, Bro. A smart woman would start to see a pattern and worry about her odds. And I will admit that, about 5:30 (after talking to my brother for the second time today), I really wanted a beer. (I bought a new gluten-free beer yesterday, before all this happened, and I was looking forward to trying it.) I *don't* drink to cope with shit, and I decided that tonight was not the best time to start, and that I want to not muddy my intent, so I'm putting off trying the new GF beer until I'm sure I just want it because I want to try it, not because I want it to shut my brain up.

Coping skills: I haz them.

When DH went into inpatient rehab, we had to wait about a week for a spot to open up, and intake advised him to keep up his maintenance use (in a "we are not advising you to do anything illegal, but..." way) so I am hopeful that someone at a clinic can give your brother some good advice until he can get in somewhere. And hopefully something will open up soon, because that wait is no fun for anyone.

His plan, as of 5:00 today, was to taper off with 3.2% beer all on his own and be done with it, and then go to AA. Honestly, I suspect he's going to need inpatient rehab, based on how bad today has been for him. But since nothing is open right this moment, I just was supportive and said it was great he has a plan and it's smart to not go cold turkey, and told him he can quit.

He said "I kind of wish I had gone on one last bender," and I said, "Well, you don't get one. Take up knitting and go on a knitting bender."

[pause]

"A...*knitting* bender?"

"Well," I said, "or Pilates. I don't care. Just not booze."

"Yeah," he said, "you definitely don't get to be my sponsor."

That's a pretty good plan. And you are doing a good job of being supportive, it sounds like.

Knitting benders totes exist, and it ain't pretty. Or rather, it's very pretty until you find yourself at 5 in the morning with a whole new project because you rolled right into it after finishing the old one because you just had to dig into that new yarn and DAMN. Your hands. Damn.