I had my very first drinking dream last night. I have read a lot about people having these types of dreams in early sobriety, I never did. I was taken by surprise by it, given that I just celebrated 16 months of sobriety on Monday.
When I awoke this morning, the dream was still very vivid in my mind. As I lay in bed, making sure all my parts were still working, I began to delve into what made me have that dream now. Especially after all this time.
I have a trip to Maine scheduled for the end of the month. It is a celebration for my step mother being elected the state President of a women’s charity group she is involved in. My grandmother was a member, my step mother is a member, and for me to be able to attend her induction, she made me and her daughter members. When I was first asked to attend the state convention where the award would be bestowed, it was four years ago, and I said “of course I will come”. I figured I had four years, a lot could happen in four years, it was easy to say yes without real intentions behind the yes.
It is now four years later, and the convention is upon us. An event that I thought was going to be small, intimate celebration has now blossomed into a full on party.
It is my impression that my step mothers installment as the President for the state of Maine in this charity has become an event. It has become a THING, a rather large thing. The small gathering has blossomed into a semi large family reunion of sorts. My brother, his wife and two children are flying in from Missouri, and my step mothers son is making a special trip from Massachusetts. None of these people will get to see the honor being bestowed, as it is a women’s only group, and you have to be a member. The only people in attendance will be me, and her daughter. The other family members have been invited for a post convention celebration.
My step mother is very excited about this position, and has worked hard to get it. Because she wanted me there, she offered to pay for my airfare and hotel. I picked out my flights, and she booked the hotel. As you can imagine, there was conversation regarding these arrangements, just not full disclosure.
As the celebration got larger, I was asked to include my daughter, who is only a two hour drive from Portland. I was more than happy to do that. She is my heart and soul, and helps keep me grounded. I figured this adventure would create a few trigger moments, and it would be easier with her by my side. Plus, I had the paid for hotel room for her to stay in with me, great plan right?
Wrong. I was informed, yesterday, that my step mother has booked to share a room with her daughter, a woman whom I have not seen in 25+ years, and who is a black out drinker. It was then casually tossed in that she and I will also be sharing a bed, because step mom was sure I wouldn’t mind. I do mind, I really, really mind.
I have been under an extraordinary amount of stress over the last four months. The stress has led me to question my sobriety regularly. I have had far to many white knuckle days for comfort, and feel like I have been distancing myself from both my sponsor, and my meetings. My mothers death has been an emotional challenge, and now we are packing our home and moving. All catalysts to my old way of thinking, drown all discomfort with copious amounts of white wine, it will go away.
I also have a horrible time sleeping, crazy bedtime rituals, and hotel rooms are where I am at my craziest. (I travel with electrical tape for all of the little lights in the room.). I have shared a lot of crazy with my family, but I really don’t feel the need for full disclosure. Suffice it to say there are nights my husband doesn’t even want to be in the same bed, let alone room with me.
Needless to say, this information sent me into a tail spin. I finally hit that wall that had been coming closer and closer. I had a major meltdown. A crying, hyperventilating, rocking back and forth on the floor meltdown. I would say that this has been lurking inside for quite some time, but the room and bed share were the straws that broke the flood gates open.
Once I composed myself, I immediately got on line, and booked my OWN room. Easy fix. Normal people would have just gone and done that without all the neurotic histrionics. Instead I got myself so worked up, that I no longer want to attend, my own room or not.
When my family gets together, every one drinks, it is what we have always done. I don’t do that any more, and I have yet to find my comfort zone with not drinking around my family. Old habits are hard to overcome.
With all of this fresh on my mind, I dreamt that I joined in with the drinking and the partying in Maine. I was at the table having dinner, downing glasses of red wine, one after another, just like the old days.
All of this is disconcerting. I know I need to be sober, but there is still a part of me that doesn’t want to be sober. That girl wants to drink. I hope she isn’t in Maine in May.