Damn, That Slope Sure Is Slippery...

I think I fell off the wagon last night.

No, that's not right.  I know I fell off the wagon last night.  Just hard to say it, is all.

She and I and her friend went out to our bar.  I had my first non-alcoholic beer.  I assumed that would be safe.  It was even recommended to me as an option by my chemical dependency therapist.  But the weirdest thing happened.

I got a little drunk!

There's this feeling you get when you first take a drink.  It's more emotional and perceptual than physical; not like getting high.  It's just this feeling of suddenly being happier, more relaxed, more interested in what other people are saying, feeling more outgoing and talkative.  And it's an immediate reaction - you can feel it after just a few sips.  And it's more pronounced and obvious for alcoholics like myself.  Anyone can notice it, but it's really, really obvious to us.

And halfway through my first supposedly non-alcoholic beer, I felt it, clear as day.  It must've been the Placebo Effect, there's no other explanation for it.  After that one, I had two more, and thankfully, the feeling never went any further than that, but still, that was enough.  Even just the beginning of the feeling of getting drunk was apparently enough to trigger me.

After we left the bar, my leg was really killing me.  So I decided to take a pain pill.  It's hard to say how much of that was legitimate and how much of it was just my desire to continue the feeling of getting high that had started with the near-beer.  Yeah, my leg hurt really badly, but I probably could've suffered through it if I really wanted to.  And there's no mistaking that I really did want very badly to get high right then.  More so than I have in recent memory, actually.  So, if I'm honest, I'd have to say that the sore leg was probably just a convenient excuse.

We got home, I took my pill, and the girls went back out again to hit another bar.  I plopped down on the couch and started playing video games.  It took almost two hours for the pill to kick in, but when it did, it felt like a long, low-intensity, sustained orgasm.  Less than thirty minutes later, I took another one.  And then I started drinking an energy drink, so that I wouldn't pass out and could stay up and enjoy the pleasure of the pills all night long.  This is one of my favorites of my old ways to masturbate myself to death.  I call it my "poor man's speedball."

In the span of three hours, I had gone from comfortably sober, to neck-deep in the exact same hole I almost died in just two months ago.

And I didn't even feel guilty about it.  I enjoyed every second of it, playing my game and feeling so fantastic, until I finally started to nod off around 3 a.m.

And I still don't feel guilty about it, which I think is even scarier.  I feel responsible, to be sure, but not guilty.  I feel like I did this to myself, but somehow, I also feel like it was an honest mistake.  (WTF??)  I had no way of knowing that drinking a motherfucking non-alcoholic beer could possibly affect me in a way that was so unbelievably similar to drinking an actual beer.  Yes, I totally let my guard down, and ended up fucking myself because of it, but I really don't think I could've possibly known that I needed to have my guard up in that situation.  I mean, it's non-alcoholic beer, for fuck's sake!  Its entire purpose is for alcoholics to be able to drink it safely!  How could I have possibly known?!  Yes, it's still my fault for taking it much, much further after that.  But that's how addiction works.  Addicts aren't like "normal" people.  An addict can't just have a little taste and then simply walk away.  That's what makes them an addict.  And last night, I had a little taste, without realizing it until it was too late, and I wasn't at all prepared for it.  And then I couldn't walk away.

I feel like I should be beating myself up about this.  Feeling like a failure.  But I know that's a trap.  You let yourself feel like a failure, or get down on yourself too much for not being perfect, and then it's just a short step to saying, "Fuck it, why even bother?"  Addicts relapse.  That's just a fact.  And believe it or not, the healthy response to relapse is to accept it, dust yourself off, and climb back on the wagon, resolved to hang on tighter next time.  Accept responsibility, yes - but don't hate on yourself for not being perfect.  Just try again, and try harder.

Learn the lesson and keep going.

I ended up not being able to sleep at all last night.  And I mean that literally and sincerely - I laid in bed, awake, and gloriously high, for six hours, and did not fall asleep for even a moment.  Whether from the pills or the energy drink, I can't say.  It could be either.  But I'm choosing to interpret it as my penance.  And I'm accepting it gladly, and with humility.  (I hope so, anyways.  I'm trying.)

And I know one thing for certain:  I'll never take non-alcoholic beer lightly again.