Updated: Feb 2
After I had relapsed on vodka, I spent one-week belligerently drunk. I woke up drinking and passed out drinking. I called my mom telling her I wanted to die. The shame and guilt were horrifying. I felt like I had failed my kids, again. Eric and I were drinking together. Him and I both bought the vodka until he had enough of my drinking. Then he called my mom. At this point, my mom was not getting involved in our shenanigans. She knew he was drinking with me and honestly was tired of our drama. She would send me bible verses and encourage me to go to a meeting. Every time I received a bible verse in my text messages, I became annoyed. Thinking, "she does not understand what I need. A bible verse is not helping me." I wanted nothing to do with God.
Eric tried to monitor my drinking. One day in particular, he would administer my shots to me. I drank the vodka too fast in a very short amount of time. As you can imagine, that did not last long. After the second shot I let him know, he was not going to tell me when I could drink or how much.
On day seven, I became so sick. I knew I had to stop. I was going to die if I did not. I was not eating much of anything, I could not keep water down, and when I tried to take a shot of vodka; my body started to reject it. I had poisoned myself. I was scared. The left side of my body had become numb. I kept pinching myself. I told Eric I did not feel good that I may need to go to the hospital. I finally chilled out, focused on my breathing, and took a hot bath. I made myself eat and laid down. I prayed to God for me not to die.
Eric and I agreed we both had to get back on track. No more drinking. The first three days trying to detox myself was vile. My body would compulsively shake. My body had a hard time regulating my temperature. I would wake up sweating and have chills going down my spine. Eric got the kids ready for school as I lay lethargically in bed. I would get up in the evenings to help with the kids. Eric brought me Gatorade and checked in on me regularly while he was work. He knew I was hurting. I could not look at myself in the mirror. I felt disgusting. (He let me know a few days prior that I was disgusting along with more unpleasant name calling. I myself, was guilty of it too.)
I made an appointment with my family doctor for a routine check-up that Friday. I was five days clean from alcohol. I desperately needed my Clonazepam filled. I would ever-so-often request to have it filled. I was not prescribed to take it daily, only as needed. It is a benzodiazepine sedative. My doctor advised me that the laws had changed for family doctor practices to prescribe and manage antianxiety agents of this nature. I would need to find a psychiatrist. He gave me fifteen pills to hold me over until I was able to locate one. I was very grateful. As soon as I drove away from the CVS drive- through pickup window, I opened the bottle and chewed up six. Fifteen minutes later, relief came. I felt so much better. I decided to clean and organize my closet.
When Eric came home, he was happy to see me feeling better. He thanked me for cleaning up. It was the father daughter dance at school that evening. I curled Bentley's hair and took their picture. By evening, I had taken five more of my pills. They gave me energy and made me relaxed at the same time. I was high but I did not feel like it. I was very unphased. I cannot imagine after taking eleven sedatives in about five hours how I was able to function without being passed out. I did. The boys and I left to go get dinner. I decided to stop by the liquor store. I got two mini-100 proof vodkas with a fifth. I knew Eric had already taken a shot of vodka. So, I figured it was not a big deal. I did not want to drink and drive with the boys. I waited until we got to McDonalds. I could not wait any longer. I went to the bathroom and pulled out one mini vodka. I turned it up. I can still feel the burn stinging my throat. As the boys played on the playground, I enjoyed my sugar free vanilla iced coffee. Eric and I were sending pictures back and forth of the kids. For 30 minutes, life was good. The boys ate their cheeseburgers and I felt at peace. The vodka had kicked in. I was in no hurry at this time. My babies continued to play as I browsed Facebook. I read the comments from the pictures I had posted of Eric and Bentley. Finally,
I rounded up the boys and we got in the car. I checked my phone. Eric had messaged me asking where I was at. They were home. I responded that I was on my way, and we are fine. I grabbed my other mini vodka. I thought to myself, "I do not have time for his shit tonight." I poured it down my throat and chased it with my coffee. It had started heavy raining. I made sure the boys were buckled correctly. I hated driving in the rain. I hated driving in the dark. The combination of the two had me on alert.
As soon as I walk through the door, Eric is in my face. He asked where I had been and why it had taken me this long.
Me: "You know where I have been. I did stop to get vodka."
Eric: "Dammit, Hope. I told you not to drink and drive."
Me: "Eric, chill out. I only had two. I smell the vodka on your breath. What makes you any better? Get out of my fucking face right now. You are the fucking hypocrite. I know you had your shots, like you always do. Hell, you cannot attend any event without it. Fuck-off."
As I am trying to ask Bentley how the dance was, we keep mouthing words back at each other. We eventually are right back in each other's face. We are both furious. He is telling me to leave. He will call the police to get me out. We both tell the kids to go watch tv.
Me: "You fucking coward. What are you going to tell the cops? My wife is drunk come pick her up. Seriously?"
Eric: "You crazy bitch."
I push him out of my face. (I do not recall grabbing anything to hit him with.)
Eric: "You assaulted me. I am calling the police."
He grabs his phone. Dials 911. I grab my purse and leave.
The police report stated that I grabbed the paper towel holder off the kitchen counter and hit him with it.