I could have killed myself on accident.
It actually took me a few weeks of wading through emotions, but I really could have killed myself and it would have totally been an accident. This is my journey from the moment I realized i was an alcoholic to now. Before I go into this though, I need to give you context. It was Vegas, my brother died last year, and I just kept drinking until I blacked out. That was the beginning of me realizing how bad I was.
But I’m going to go way back. My family always felt you should always relax most at home, especially drinking because you are around people that are watching you. You can kick back more. Which yes in some cases is true. Hell, I remember around 10, my dad let me taste his beer. And if you’ve ever had a Budweiser, you’ll know why I disliked it the moment I tasted it. My dad knew I’d hate it, so when I asked him to let me try it, he said sure. Sure enough the moment it hit my tongue, I literally spat it out. I just couldn’t understand how anyone could drink the stuff!
Fast forward 6 ish years, and then my siblings all were drinking at home. Our family was always comfortable as long as it was AT HOME. You were NOT to drink anywhere else, punishable by anything short of death. So it began at home, where we’d drink on the weekends, particularly screwdrivers. 80% vodka and 20% OJ until I found out I was diabetic a few years later.
While I continued to grow up, drinking became very commonplace. I used to work on a cruise ship, and boy did we get drunk on payday. The bartenders loved the crew since we would always spend and leave a good tip. Smoking crept in here too. At one point in my life, I was smoking almost a pack a day, particularly on the cruise ship (technically only allowed only on the top deck where the crew took breaks).
Right after this I met my now wife, drinking didn’t slow down, but wouldn’t come to affect my life for many more years to come. Until just over a year ago. Went to a party and got so blackout drunk I don’t remember what happened, and the first thing I remembered was the next morning at 7am. I don’t remember anything after 10pm that night. And no, this isn’t where I almost killed myself.
I figured after that time I would swear off liquor, but only half meant it. I was doing fine, it was the first time, so I made excuses left and right as to why I didn’t have any problems. (Oh and I skipped many in-between years, like when I used to drink 151 straight, or pound beers. I was young and dumb but those were younger years).
Then my brother died. Everyone always excuses you when someone passes away, they say you’re hurt, you’re emotional, and they’re right. You are hurt, and emotional. But it doesn’t excuse excess. That first week after he died, I drank. A LOT. And I tried to lie about it, but I wasn’t convincing anyone. And you know what my problem was? I liked it. I liked the numbness that came with it because I didn’t have to think. Stupid comments, arguments, everyone thought I was mad all the time. But I wasn’t, I was dealing with depression which began with alcoholism. I’m skipping a lot because really Vegas was the tipping point.
Fast forward a few months to Vegas and I decided to go play poker at the bar. Now usually I can be gambling for hours but I was there for a special event, and needed to be at an appointment the next day at 12. So I gave myself an hour. 1. Hour. I talked up the bartender that night and he took care of me. I kept drinking and lost count. I lost count. Like I just can’t believe that. Usually in the course of a night yeah I lose count, but that’s over hours of playing, not ONE HOUR.
Anyway, so at 1am I told myself I’m good to go. I can go to sleep I’ve played enough. That’s the last thing I remember. I don’t remember getting back to my room, don’t remember arguing, and most importantly what I didn’t realize until 4 seeks later. I didn’t remember trying to give myself insulin.
Now if you don’t know how insulin works, it lowers your blood sugar. It’s a delicate balancing act. Too little and you don’t lower your sugars enough. Too much and you… won’t wake up. See where I could have killed myself? Being diabetic has always been difficult. Now some of you may know, carbs equal sugar, some alcohol has carbs. Mainly beer, but whiskey, my drink of choice did not affect my sugars at all. So I could drink lots of it and feel nice and drunk but not need to worry about my sugars. That night I drank only whiskey. On top of no sugar effects, it’s hard liquor, making you feel that numbness so much faster.
So there I was, drunk, in the restroom trying to open a brand new bottle of insulin. That was my saving grace. I couldn’t open the cardboard box. Glued shut I couldn’t figure out how to tear it, insert the needle and inject myself. Now there are 2 things with insulin. Don’t take too much, and inject it into fat areas. The other way I could have cause an accident was injecting too close to a vein. I’ve done it once before, and I ate so much candy and drank so much sugar that night because my body went through that insulin too quickly. I had the shakes, a cold sweat, and couldn’t think straight. Imagine that happening while drunk? It would have only seemed like I was extra drunk. Who would have connected drink and low blood sugars? Literally no one.
So here I am today. Almost 5 weeks later, and I haven’t touched a drop of whiskey since. That scared me so much because of the insulin and other things that happened that night that I don’t need to go into. I am here now, taking a step in a new lease on life because I dropped whiskey. I still drink beer, but nothing like with whiskey.
So join me on my page discussing my steps to better myself. My growth begins with this next step.