Alone at Night

Roses AAI love my new friends I’ve made here in recovery. We laugh a lot. We had a great day today.

We bought a Christmas tree.

My angel little boy visited, with my loving, supportive husband.

They kissed me. Told me they love me.

But sometimes, usually at night, I feel so sad and alone.

I’m afraid there’s something so wrong with me that I’ll never get better.

I’m afraid to fail.

Part of me wants to run, to rebel.

I’m afraid of disappointing people. Of hurting people.

I want to rewind to when I didn’t believe that I had this disease. The disease of addiction.

To when the word “alcoholic” didn’t apply to me, not in my mind.

Addicts die. Often. All of the time. People are used to it. It’s just the way it goes.

I’m afraid of my new friends dying when we leave here.

Of myself dying.

I’m afraid of jail.

I was a good girl, an “A” student, a smart kid. Now I’m a ditch kid, one of the f*ck ups, one of the bad group who lies and gets in trouble with authority.

When did that happen?

How did that happen?

How did I end up in handcuffs last week?

How did I end up in a hospital bed alone, an I.V. in my arm, not knowing how I got there? Not remembering what happened?

Can’t I go back?

Why is my brain still telling me that maybe I’m not an alcoholic? That well chilled chardonnay is lovely, not to be missed?

Will I never be normal?

Why do I love myself but not feel loved, not feel whole, not feel safe?

Why do I feel unworthy?

Dear God.

I have some questions.

-h

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20 Responses to Alone at Night

  1. Jo says:

    Heidi, one of the hardest parts of recovery is learning to forgive yourself and love yourself JUST the way you ARE right NOW. God loves you exactly as you are, he built you exactly as you are, and this is merely a challenge you have to face as a human being who is worthy of love, of living, of being. Drinking is merely a complication in your life that you can face and overcome, you can do this. You’ve already made a good start.

    Do not let one incident and your addiction define who you are. They are but a small part of you.

    http://www.thebrightyellowballoon.blogspot.com

  2. Jenna says:

    This post made me cry. I feel like that all the time. I’m not an alcoholic. I used to be alcohol dependent but that was just a presenting symptom of mental health problems that run much deeper. So many nights I’ve lay awake wondering if I will ever be normal. What I know, in the day when things mostly make sense, is that I have to keep going, have to keep putting one foot in front of the other for my sons sake. Sometimes it’s easy to keep going forward, sometimes it feels harder than life itself but giving up is not an option. I believe you will beat your addiction. one step at a time x

    http://www.babybloggee.wordpress.com

  3. Mayor Gia says:

    Nights are the hardest part of the day for me too. It’s when all my crazy comes out.

    http://www.mayorgia.blogspot.com

  4. That’s why I can only fall asleep with Ambien… when I’m alone with my brain, it’s like watching a crazy, freaky, scary movie that never, ever ends.

    You will never be normal, darlin’… thank God. But you will be okay.

    Much love to you.

    http://www.deathbycupcakes01.blogspot.com

  5. Sheila says:

    Heidi, you’re not a f*&#k-up, you have a disease. And it is your disease talking to you telling you are not an alcoholic. You are taking the steps you need to take to get better – one day at a time. Sometimes it’s one minute at a time. You are a bright and beautiful spirit and I am so happy you are in a good place with people who know the struggle and can help. Sending you love and light.

  6. Heidi Ferrer says:

    Thank you Sheila, you are awesome. xxxooooo

  7. Olivia says:

    My Dearest Heidi,
    What matters most is that every time you fall, you get back up. I too am afraid to fail – at many things – but I don’t let fear intimidate me, I use it as fuel to motivate me. I feel many of the things you stated. I understand, I too feel inadequate. You are not alone. You are not a fuck up. Never give up. Never say die. You have the strength in you, find it, use it, it is there, I promise it is. I believe in you. You are resilient. You can do this.
    Your biggest cheerleader,
    Olivia :)

  8. Candice G says:

    I wish I was sitting next to you in a meeting so I could pass you my phone number on a torn off slip of paper. I get what you are going through. It is NOT easy. I have been there. I am going 2 1/2 years strong. I am a mommy to a 18 month old little knight in shining armour! i have a million and one bits of advice for you…. but I won’t overload you with things you probably hear 5 million times a day and see posted all over the walls of that luxurious, yet lonely building you are in. Keep it simple. Be grateful. And above all, f*ck the day at a time shit, go a minute at a time. It is how I got to where I am now, and let me tell ya, I came from the pits of hell. I don’t know you, but I am proud of you. So glad that I found your blog on thebloggess.com. You are now added to my crazy life prayers, (when I have time to say them) Just being honest. Hang in there. You’ve got this. We alcoholics and addicts have no other choice, even if we don’t believe we really are yet. ;)

    http://www.sober_mom.livejournal.com

  9. Bob says:

    Heidi,
    My father was an alcoholic. This was many, many years ago when “rehab” was pay the fine to get out of jail then repeat what got you into jail. Once after he had reached a new low he bought a pint of booze and set it up in a kitchen cabinet and every morning he would look at that pint and make a decision to fight or die. He did that same drill for the next forty years as a productive and loved human being. So it can be done and you can survive. The pictures of your family show that your fight is not just for you but also for them. Never stop fighting, you can do this.
    Good luck and God speed.

  10. Valerie says:

    Oh Heidi…

    I so feel your pain. I want to go back to the day I didn’t pass out on the couch by 6pm and get up at 3am to drink again and pass out again, then have my daughter find me in the morning and try to hide the alcohol from me, all while missing work so I can binge drink. I can’t imagine what it’s done to her, but I know I’ve hurt her and my family. I used to NEVER drink, not even when we went out with friends or to a club or out for dinner. Never had a glass of wine until last year. I don’t understand how I got to this point. I’m tired of feeling the shame of what I’ve done, or the shame of knowing how I’ve almost ruined my family more than a handful of times, tired of the shame of knowing how I’ve hurt my caring loving husband. UGH! I’m right there with you. I’ve gotten it under control lately, but sometimes I feel I could easily slip back into that person and I’m scared I will, but with the support of my husband and my daughter right now, I feel like I have the strength to make it to tomorrow.

    Hang in there Heidi!

    Valerie

  11. fylgja says:

    Dear Heidi,

    They don’t call the stuff, “cunning, baffling and powerful” for nothing! I was doing 90 meetings in 90 days, two to three a day after an ER visit where I got Lithium along with something to relax my stomach after 24 hours of dry heaving withdrawal, and I’m sitting in a meeting not three days later looking up at the 12 Steps posted on the wall, thinking, “I’M not REALLY an alcoholic…” Luckily my eyes moved on to #3 of the 12 Traditions: “The only requirement for A.A. membership is a desire to stop drinking.” I sure had that, so I kept going. Fake it until you make it, and boy am I *ever* an alcoholic.

    After 40 years of drinking I finally got sober at 53 years old, and I am *so* grateful I have my health and I am *so* grateful that I never hurt anybody. And lucky, too. Lucky, lucky, lucky. And one can’t f*ck around with the fates, so I have every intention of staying sober.

    After five years my mind is still quite screwed up, but it’s learning, and it’s seeing more beauty all the time. Like I said, lucky. I have 53 years of alcoholic thinking and only five years of getting better, so it’s going to take time. Probably the rest of my life, but however long that turns out to be, it will be time well spent.

    I’m happy you got sober at a young age, and especially happy you got sober for you, and for that beautiful little boy you hold in your photo.

    Bright blessings to you,
    fylgja

    http://www.prairiesister.wordpress.com

    • Heidi Ferrer says:

      What a beautiful comment, thank you. Cunning, baffling and powerful has been the lesson I’ve been learning over and over since my recovery began- it is a doozy. I’m so proud of you, if I may say so! I don’t feel like I’m that young to be doing this at all, but I’m grateful for the life ahead of me living happy and sober, without guilt or shame. Bright blessings right back to you, sister.

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