I last posted just as my thrice-yearly busy season (three weeks) commenced. I followed the completion of my busy season with a four week drunk.
I wasn't drunk all of the time, but very nearly. Part of that was the annual holiday hedonism--"Wahey! It's Christmas!" But most of it, to be honest, was that I didn't have to go to the office. So overindulging, if not justified, was acceptable. right? Bollox. I didn't get a lick of at-home work done over the course of those four weeks. A symptom: I've undermined something I've worked terribly hard for over the past four years. It's all going down the drain.
I've written in the past about my tendency to overdrink. I've been a heavy drinker since I turned 21. I never drank regularly in my 20s, but when I did drink, it was until I couldn't see straight. I functioned well enough (excellent student and employee). Easily qualified as youthful excess. Later, I moved to another country, one where more-than-moderate drinking was perfectly acceptable. Big mistake. I continued to drink heavily--but more often. At the time, I still functioned well enough. In fact, I seemed to thrive..
I 've built up quite a tolerance. Beginning about six years ago (and excepting the occasional day or weekend), I've been either "tiddly" or drunk every night of the week. For the past four years, I might have the rare evening of two cocktails (for example, two double vodka martinis), but it's mostly been either four-to-six dark ales or a bottle (most recently 1 3/4 bottles) of red wine a night. I"m talking every night, including worknights. Sometimes (albeit rarely), the beer or wine wasn't enough (e.g., I ran out of beer or wine), and I'd supplement with a spirit. It's a wonder I haven't died in my sleep a la John Bonham.
I've been lucky in that I've never blacked out, never had a medical emergency (God knows how I've escaped that). Neither have I ever woken up in the morning (or afternoon) and reached for an eye-opener. It's not that I had "rules" about drinking, I just happened to drink in the evenings after I'd completed my day's business. But I would put a hell of a lot of liquor away in an evening.
I have put myself in numerous risky, seriously dangerous situations; I'm too ashamed and frightened to think about the "what ifs." I also have alienated a few people because of my behavior when drunk. But I've mostly been able to mask my problem drinking (at least, I think so).
I don't know if I've hit "rock bottom" (whatever that is), but I'm sick and tired of waking up with a hangover--no matter what degree of hangover it is. I am terrified of losing my faculties. And, as mentioned above, I'm undermining something I've worked toward for the past four years.
Two weeks ago I just burst out and told my therapist about my average alcohol intake. She put me onto a doctor immediately. He arranged a schedule for tapering off, and he prescribed a low dosage anti-anxiety medication. My last drink: one beer on Thursday, 31 January. I think the meds have helped because outside of bouts of crying and/or irritability I seem to have done okay. But I'm afraid of what might happen in the upcoming days--seizures? DTs? Bats with babies faces? etc. Also, sneaky little thoughts are beginning to surface--justifications as to how and why I'm not an alcoholic. But I know I am.
So here's a new adventure. Sober Girl.
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
03 February 2008
10 November 2007
From Library to Adult "Bookstore"
I had a hard time holding down jobs as a teenager. I was a dedicated worker…I did whatever was asked, and I did it to the best of my ability. But I was a bit too “off” for my coworkers and, often, my employers. Loud and abrasive when I wasn’t being peculiar and stand-offish.
I had one temp job in high school that was arranged through the school district--one of those programs for low-income youth. I was placed in the local public library, which I absolutely loved. I worked for two women, both incredibly kind to me. One of them gave me a ticket to see Carmen at the local opera house (I love opera. My first experience of it was seeing Faust on a field trip with the “gifted” class). I only worked there three months (it was temp after all); they gave me a set of a necklace and stud earrings shaped like a unicorn when I left. I loved them, and I loved working at the library (I was left alone to get on with my work in a quiet place).
My second job was temp as well; I worked for a blustery insurance agent who terrified me. He didn’t do anything to scare me deliberately, he was just …blustery. I seldom saw him, though (I came in after school and he’d have cleared off for the day).
I was fired from my third and fourth jobs; once for continual lateness (although I’d told them right off the bat that my transport between school and work would cause me to be ten minutes late on weekdays). I was let go from the following job for stealing. I have no idea how that came about, but it had something to do with a missing role of dimes ($5.00). Someone decided it was me wot did it. So out I went. I’m not surprised, really. I wasn’t a companionable coworker, I was a tad strange with my introversion and extreme attention to details.
I was fairly depressed after this second firing, and a bit scared about trying to get another job. My resume wouldn't be too appealing to a potential employer. I was 18 at this point, and just beginning college. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my future.
One day I was reading the classifieds in the paper and saw an ad for dancers. So I went to the business that was hiring (on the slightly seedier side of town) and requested an application of a man who sat behind a massive, u-shaped desk (but with right angles).
I filled out the application, showed him my identification card, and he hired me (no interview; I actually expected one. Hah!)
The desk manager pointed me towards some lingerie the place sold and told me to choose something; he said I would pay for it out of my “tips.” I picked out a short, soft, magenta tunic/slip that wasn’t too revealing. I was unsure about what I was doing--that is, I didn't quite realize what I was embarking on. That didn't stop me.
The man at the desk told me to come back at 5:00 pm to begin my shift. That was that.
It’s so odd to think back; when I initially went in to apply, I didn’t think I had a “real” chance, I thought of myself as unattractive in face and figure. I thought the desk man would shoo me right back out the door. However, as I was to learn, no matter how unattractive you might think you are, you can get hired by a strip joint.
I had one temp job in high school that was arranged through the school district--one of those programs for low-income youth. I was placed in the local public library, which I absolutely loved. I worked for two women, both incredibly kind to me. One of them gave me a ticket to see Carmen at the local opera house (I love opera. My first experience of it was seeing Faust on a field trip with the “gifted” class). I only worked there three months (it was temp after all); they gave me a set of a necklace and stud earrings shaped like a unicorn when I left. I loved them, and I loved working at the library (I was left alone to get on with my work in a quiet place).
My second job was temp as well; I worked for a blustery insurance agent who terrified me. He didn’t do anything to scare me deliberately, he was just …blustery. I seldom saw him, though (I came in after school and he’d have cleared off for the day).
I was fired from my third and fourth jobs; once for continual lateness (although I’d told them right off the bat that my transport between school and work would cause me to be ten minutes late on weekdays). I was let go from the following job for stealing. I have no idea how that came about, but it had something to do with a missing role of dimes ($5.00). Someone decided it was me wot did it. So out I went. I’m not surprised, really. I wasn’t a companionable coworker, I was a tad strange with my introversion and extreme attention to details.
I was fairly depressed after this second firing, and a bit scared about trying to get another job. My resume wouldn't be too appealing to a potential employer. I was 18 at this point, and just beginning college. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my future.
One day I was reading the classifieds in the paper and saw an ad for dancers. So I went to the business that was hiring (on the slightly seedier side of town) and requested an application of a man who sat behind a massive, u-shaped desk (but with right angles).
I filled out the application, showed him my identification card, and he hired me (no interview; I actually expected one. Hah!)
The desk manager pointed me towards some lingerie the place sold and told me to choose something; he said I would pay for it out of my “tips.” I picked out a short, soft, magenta tunic/slip that wasn’t too revealing. I was unsure about what I was doing--that is, I didn't quite realize what I was embarking on. That didn't stop me.
The man at the desk told me to come back at 5:00 pm to begin my shift. That was that.
It’s so odd to think back; when I initially went in to apply, I didn’t think I had a “real” chance, I thought of myself as unattractive in face and figure. I thought the desk man would shoo me right back out the door. However, as I was to learn, no matter how unattractive you might think you are, you can get hired by a strip joint.
21 September 2007
Learning to Talk
I’ve just spent an evening out, at a bar, with a group of colleagues. I spoke with a few people, but I didn’t engage the way other folks did, I mostly sat outside the group and watched their interactions. Surprise! I remained sober while others fell about giddy with booze and plans to continue their intoxication into the night. Oh, the promise of the early evening buzz--who knows where the alcohol and the evening will take us? To curious bars, to strangers' beds, to pavement pukings, to sprained ankles from staggering in heels, to Godalmighty hangovers and the morning shame. . . .
I'm not pointing fingers here. I simply spent the evening watching these much younger people getting ready for a pre-term blowout (good for them). So, I spent a bit of time at the sidelines nursing a dirty vodka martini. A wallflower? At my age? Hell yes.
I wrote a few blogs back that I am fairly incapable of walking up and saying “hi, I’m SG, how are you etc.” I need to be introduced to people before I can talk to them. This aloofness isn’t intentional, and it isn’t a reliance on etiquette.
I’ve always been convinced that my lack of social success is due to some freakery on my part. I’m fundamentally unlikable, unlovable. But, how much of it is me, and how much of it is “them”? Do “they” sense my sordidness, my seaminess, before “they” even know who I am? I don’t know. I’ve always struggled with social settings, be it classrooms, parties, recess, or professional meetings. It’s not just awkwardness; maybe it’s like Prufrock being pinned against a wall.
One problem is that I can get so tongue-tied that I am simply inarticulate, and people can’t grasp what I’m saying. So many thoughts begin teeming in my head that I swear I get confused. Usually ½ xanax helps to level that mental calumny--which poses the question: is it anxiety that provokes the confusion? Maybe, maybe not.
Although the xanax generally does the trick, I took some prior to my PhD oral exam; even so, that was a disaster. I swear, I don’t know how I passed. It's ot that I didn't know the "answers," I just couldn't respond clearly to the questions posed. I am convinced that the paper I presented saved me. And the fact that my advisor is confident in me (but then, what if he isn’t, and he just doesn’t like to see his students fail? In the post-exam debriefing he assured me that he had seen the other committee members fail examinees--and this without my asking him “how did I pass?” I assume he either sensed my concerns or he and the other committee members had spoken of my inability to speak extemporaneously). Anways, there's a bit of shame in here; I humiliated myself in an arena where I should excel.
Which brings me to the reason I couldn’t sleep tonight. I’ve been passed up, ignored, for several opportunities I’ve been entitled to within the parameters of my program, which ends in June (please forgive me for being vague here. It‘s necessary). I’ve tried, twice, to bring authorities’ attention to this. Once, it worked. The second time, nothing. And I’m at a loss. I’m afraid to nag, But I do know that “squeaky wheels get the grease.” But why are people who aren’t squeaky, and who aren’t as advanced (in the program) as me, getting all the grease? Again, this isn’t paranoia. I just keep getting skipped. Either I’m invisible or people are picking up on the social ineptness. It certainly is not my job performance (I’ve got great evals). I’m thinking that, perhaps, my inelegant articulation impeded getting my message across to aforementioned authorities. Then again, they just might not give a whatever (the latter worries me, because one of the authorities is my advocate).
Anyways, I can't sleep because the clock is running out on my time in the prgram, and it looks like I'm going to leave with next to no real experience in my area, and I'm wondering how that will help me acquire a decent job next year.
Note: although my job requires me to speak publicly on a regular basis, I have few problems. I always prepare a “script” (with footnotes, believe it or not) before it’s necessary, so I’m seldom required to think hard on the spot.
I'm not pointing fingers here. I simply spent the evening watching these much younger people getting ready for a pre-term blowout (good for them). So, I spent a bit of time at the sidelines nursing a dirty vodka martini. A wallflower? At my age? Hell yes.
I wrote a few blogs back that I am fairly incapable of walking up and saying “hi, I’m SG, how are you etc.” I need to be introduced to people before I can talk to them. This aloofness isn’t intentional, and it isn’t a reliance on etiquette.
I’ve always been convinced that my lack of social success is due to some freakery on my part. I’m fundamentally unlikable, unlovable. But, how much of it is me, and how much of it is “them”? Do “they” sense my sordidness, my seaminess, before “they” even know who I am? I don’t know. I’ve always struggled with social settings, be it classrooms, parties, recess, or professional meetings. It’s not just awkwardness; maybe it’s like Prufrock being pinned against a wall.
One problem is that I can get so tongue-tied that I am simply inarticulate, and people can’t grasp what I’m saying. So many thoughts begin teeming in my head that I swear I get confused. Usually ½ xanax helps to level that mental calumny--which poses the question: is it anxiety that provokes the confusion? Maybe, maybe not.
Although the xanax generally does the trick, I took some prior to my PhD oral exam; even so, that was a disaster. I swear, I don’t know how I passed. It's ot that I didn't know the "answers," I just couldn't respond clearly to the questions posed. I am convinced that the paper I presented saved me. And the fact that my advisor is confident in me (but then, what if he isn’t, and he just doesn’t like to see his students fail? In the post-exam debriefing he assured me that he had seen the other committee members fail examinees--and this without my asking him “how did I pass?” I assume he either sensed my concerns or he and the other committee members had spoken of my inability to speak extemporaneously). Anways, there's a bit of shame in here; I humiliated myself in an arena where I should excel.
Which brings me to the reason I couldn’t sleep tonight. I’ve been passed up, ignored, for several opportunities I’ve been entitled to within the parameters of my program, which ends in June (please forgive me for being vague here. It‘s necessary). I’ve tried, twice, to bring authorities’ attention to this. Once, it worked. The second time, nothing. And I’m at a loss. I’m afraid to nag, But I do know that “squeaky wheels get the grease.” But why are people who aren’t squeaky, and who aren’t as advanced (in the program) as me, getting all the grease? Again, this isn’t paranoia. I just keep getting skipped. Either I’m invisible or people are picking up on the social ineptness. It certainly is not my job performance (I’ve got great evals). I’m thinking that, perhaps, my inelegant articulation impeded getting my message across to aforementioned authorities. Then again, they just might not give a whatever (the latter worries me, because one of the authorities is my advocate).
Anyways, I can't sleep because the clock is running out on my time in the prgram, and it looks like I'm going to leave with next to no real experience in my area, and I'm wondering how that will help me acquire a decent job next year.
Note: although my job requires me to speak publicly on a regular basis, I have few problems. I always prepare a “script” (with footnotes, believe it or not) before it’s necessary, so I’m seldom required to think hard on the spot.
19 September 2007
Back at work
Today was my first day back at work following a three month break. It's been a fantastically long three months (and I don't mean "fantastic" as in "terrific," but as in "preternaturally"). I'm grateful for the return to order. If you haven't figured it out already, I'm horrific at regulating myself. Even so, I woke up way too early (4:00!) worried about the day. Perhaps it was because after several months of self-imposed isolation, I was going to be surrounded by people. Usually, this sets me on edge, so I took 1/2 xanax before I attended the big meeting that initiates our work year.
As I said, I was dreading seeing all of these people. But, surprisingly, I was pleased to see everyone (at least, those I know). You see, I assume that people don't like me, that people avoid me, etc. So I was thrilled when I was greeted with hugs, pleasantries, and happy catch-up chats (and no, it's not because I've been away for "health issues").
I guess that I'm projecting my distrust of people: I expect them to see me how I see them (now, that that make any sense?). I'm seriously phobic about social situations. I'm peculiar about meeting people. I don't--I can't--walk up and introduce myself to a stranger. I wait for introductions. Even if I'm standing with a friend and an unknown third party, I won't say jack unless/until I'm introduced. I don'tknow if it's shyness or a fear of intruding on others' conversations, but there it is. I just fail at sociability. Unless I drink. then, I fear, I get too social. Which is why I am not attending the annual autumn wine and cheese 'do.
Anyways, today was an uncommonly nice day.
Aside: Miles Davis's "Black Satin" is one odd track; I can't decide if it's disconcerting, frightening, or genius.
As I said, I was dreading seeing all of these people. But, surprisingly, I was pleased to see everyone (at least, those I know). You see, I assume that people don't like me, that people avoid me, etc. So I was thrilled when I was greeted with hugs, pleasantries, and happy catch-up chats (and no, it's not because I've been away for "health issues").
I guess that I'm projecting my distrust of people: I expect them to see me how I see them (now, that that make any sense?). I'm seriously phobic about social situations. I'm peculiar about meeting people. I don't--I can't--walk up and introduce myself to a stranger. I wait for introductions. Even if I'm standing with a friend and an unknown third party, I won't say jack unless/until I'm introduced. I don'tknow if it's shyness or a fear of intruding on others' conversations, but there it is. I just fail at sociability. Unless I drink. then, I fear, I get too social. Which is why I am not attending the annual autumn wine and cheese 'do.
Anyways, today was an uncommonly nice day.
Aside: Miles Davis's "Black Satin" is one odd track; I can't decide if it's disconcerting, frightening, or genius.
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