How Did I Get Here

I remember looking at people who were grossly obese and wondering how they could let themselves get to that point.

I would drive past the detox clinic and laugh to myself at the thought that they let themselves get that far gone that they ended up there. I've walked past homeless people sleeping on the street and couldn't wrap my narrow mind around how their shit fell so far apart they found themselves sleeping on concrete. And here I am. Falling apart. Out of control. Needing help. Needing detox. An alcoholic.

How did I get here.

I've lost sense of time and I've lost count of bottles. I've lost memories and friends. I've lost business and money. I've lost respect and trust. I've lost faith and I've lost hope.

How did I get here.

Coming to terms that I need help with my drinking problem has been the hardest and longest journey. And I'm seeing now that it's just beginning. I'm frustrated and angry at how difficult – and expensive – it is to get access to proper assistance in Canada. I feel like I'm contributing too much to the system, and "they" don't want me to get better. Perhaps a burden on the medical system (now and later) – but contributing to the economy with every bottle I down and pack of cigarettes I turn into ashes.

I'm worth much more to them broken than I am fixed.

And that makes me so sad. Because I want help. Badly. And I've tried helping myself, and it is not working. It's scary to hear you need an actual medical detox, because you could have tremors and seizures – and die. It's scary to be sitting here at 7am wanting a drink because turning these feelings into words is terrifying me. It's making it real. I feel like I'm picking at a scab that refuses to heal.

"Wine hath drowned more men than the sea." – Thomas Fuller

How did I get here.

I've been looking at detox clinics. I can't afford any of them. I do not want to go to a hospital. I do not want to go to a drop in centre. Getting the alcohol out of my system alone will not fix my thirst. I won't sweat out the real reasons I drink. You can't detox your soul without proper, professional help, and it's so devastating to find how out of reach that proper help is for so many people, just like me. Wanting help but not being able to get it is one more kick while you're down. Admitting I need help lit a tiny spark of pride in me and in the darkness I saw the outlines of a little bit of hope. Then realizing I can't access the help I want and need draws the shadows back in – and the spark goes out.

I'm going to see my doctor today. Luckily, I have one. And he's wonderful. It's a step at least so we will see where that goes. And I know I will have only one thought while I am sitting in that waiting room 3 hours from now, and that will be 'How did I get here?'

Sober, alcohol free recovery blogger.

Photographer. Writer. Ex-Blackout Artist.

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