Thursday, September 9, 2010

Pensacola . . . the Untold Story

This summer has been tough, to say the least. And when I say things never turn out the way they're expected to, the passed few months have been no exception. Despite the difficult times in my life which have definitely made me stronger, this summer will be one to remember; one that tested my strength, and one that will never let me forget that I'm only human.

As I wrote in an earlier post, Memorial Day was a hoot. However, probably the most significant event throughout the entire weekend was my relapse, which, of course, I intentionally left out. I was scared, ashamed, but defiant. It happened the night before Memorial Day. I had been in Pensacola for four days at this point, and the next day, we were going to drive home. I was in my car driving through a rainstorm alone, trying to find a place to eat. I was staying with a bunch of friends, some in the program, and some not.

I had been sober for three and a half years.

I drove around for over an hour, not because I couldn't find a place to eat, but because I was trying to talk myself into having a drink. I had earned it, I thought. Not only had I turned my life around, but I had also matured to the 34 year old who had just landed a new job in only seven days. I had been working out for two years, and I had become the person I always wanted to be. I was loved and admired by so many, and I had succeeded in seeing a monumental project through from start to finish: the Atlanta Cotillion. I had money of my own, I was travelling, and I had friends and family I loved.

I realized as I drove that it was midnight, and the partying would only last for a few more hours. I grabbed fast food, and headed to Emerald City alone. All weekend, I was surrounded by beautiful, scantily clad boys. Although I knew many of those from Atlanta, and I was making new friends, I felt totally alone. I arrived at the club, quickly said "Hi" to some people I knew, but I was acting as though I was looking for someone. I was looking for a bar that had no Atlantans around it, so that I could order a drink. The decision was made long before, and my mind was made up. As I ordered my drink, I could barely believe I heard those words leave my mouth. It was done; I took my first sip as if I were drinking some sort of poison. I was scared because I had no idea how it would affect me. Would I be drunk off the first drink? I was slightly panicked. The first one was weak, but my alcoholism kicked in. I needed to find a male bartender in another secluded bar to make me a good drink. I got what I wanted, and then went and danced with my friends. The club was packed, so I spent the rest of the night socializing. After hanging out for a while, I went back to the hotel and went to bed.

I need to get this off my chest, partly because the drinking didn't end here, and I now realize the entire summer may take several posts. Also, a few months after drinking openly and honestly, the rumors began that I was also doing drugs, a myth that hurt my feelings, and I developed a resentment toward the gay recovery community. I consider myself an open book; someone who lives a somewhat private life, but also someone who is honest. As I continued to drink, so did the gossip. And ultimately, I realized, I was headed right back to where I started on 12/04/06, my (former) sobriety date.

"Never regret. If it's good, it's wonderful. If it's bad, it's experience." - Victoria Holt

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