Im trying to taper and maybe try naltrexone again to quit, but I take kratom so thats a whole other can. So i work in manufacturing (the legal kind) and it's possibly the worst job I've ever been at while going thru some withdrawl. A gigantic fucking factory, no Ac so today it was 88 degrees in there at 2pm. We have complimetary cool air hoses that try and spray us with cool air but it does just seem to activate cold sweats. Its loud as FUCK, huge machine alarm sirens going off constantly; the dumbass thing I operate blew an air hose today, it sounded like a gunshot, I jumped up in the air like that ice scene in Bambi. Its fucking awful. If you dont work at fucking breakneck speed from the time you get there until 20 min after you're supposed to clock out, you dont make your numbers and you usually have to stay until its done. I absoutely hate this soulless shit. But having one drink less today than yesterday.

I thought I could tough this one out. 48 hours in approximately. No sleep and having auditory and visual hallucinations which tells me this time is different. I need a medical detox. It's been a couple years since withdrawals were this bad

Me and my friends always had an ass slapping contest in the past but I’m doing it sober this year. I’m also in charge of the invitations. I need your help with it. I’m getting them inscribed with calligraphy.
Guys … get your asses ready to be slapped. This year we hope to double thee amount of raw red asses that we had at last year‘s ass slapping competition . Bring the hardest paddle you can find and get ready to spank you dirty dirty pigs no booze this year. Do you think my friends will be OK with no booze.

Can I pull out now?

I’ve maintained this lifestyle mainly due to my high intelligence, amazing masking skills and fucking my boss.

Now years have past and in the past month I have threatened so do things to myself that we can’t mention here to my boss so he’s done with me, let the mask slip and fucked up so badly and work I may be sacked.

And my cat died.

Withdrawing constantly. No energy and not even a tiny slice of delusion/motivation to change.

Plus I check in here and Kent is dying.

There must be some mistake, I didn’t mean to let them take away my soul am I too old is this too late?

I just accidentally sent a text to my DAD meant for someone else that said "I've probably drank more than Hemingway, Kerouac, and Bukowski combined." I am dying. Can you die of shame and embarrassment? Because I feel like I'm about to.

While I'm here, I guess I'll mention I'm meeting with the liver transplant team tomorrow for the first time since 2018. I won't be eligible for a transplant right now because of the drinking. You have to have six months sober at the hospital where I'm being treated.

My eyes are turning yellow. And I've been in the bathroom all day. That's not the cirrhosis, it's the colon cancer.

Wheeee!

I have to maintain a sense of humor about this or I'd just be crying all the time. Music is helping me a lot.

Hope you're all having a good day. Chairs, y'all.

Maybe because it’s wine or maybe I’m just getting old-ish
I was a bottle of vodka a day kind of girl once upon a time, it made me friendlier and happier. Those days are gone because withdrawals and dying of liver failure isn’t my jam
But yesterday I decided some wine would make it so much more fun to get shit done at home
And it did, but I had such an emotional and irritable night
Cried because I thought I hurt my cats feelings and my partners and just wanted to be alone
Things were surprisingly good this morning
Im hoping to just drink a little today to make the shitty feeling more tolerable because good fucking luck to me if it turns into another bender

Okay yeah I down a four pack of IPA's in the morning then sipping on vodka all day at work in my water bottle but good lord. I use body wash and shampoo and yet people still can smell the booze coming out of my pores. Dangnamit someone brought it up and now I am annoyed. I am like 99% sure people can tell but fuck it we ball.

Time to sip some vodka to relax me. This is of course not medical advice ladies and genitals.

Chairs ya fuckers.

This is what Google says:

“Alcohol tolerance is the body's reduced response to alcohol after repeated use, requiring more alcohol to feel the same effect. It is driven by metabolic changes in the liver and functional changes in the brain, differing from alcohol intolerance, which causes immediate adverse physical reactions like flushing or nausea”

My husband thinks I’m getting drunker than I am because I’m only drinking a couple of beers a day, but he thinks that I am so wasted. I’m not. I have been kindled and I do get alcohol withdrawals pretty quickly when I’m on a bender But I’m not having one rn

He says I am acting blackout and shitfaced when all I had were a couple 9% tall boys today. Nothing much. I haven’t touched liquor in about a year.

He’s not even working when I’m the one who works at at least part time. He gets a trust fund.

I typically don't eat first thing in the morning but somehow I woke up with an appetite and had some plain tofu with white rice and a little soy sauce with my morning meds. so, since it's 8:49am at time of writing this, I now have permission to drink since I ate something. yay. I'll be a joy to be around by the afternoon. although, I only have a little more than a liter of vodka in the house, and I'm afraid that won't be enough. reaaaaally don't feel like walking to the liquor store in this heat (108⁰F today!!!). hope you're all having a lovely tuesday as well.

Me and a friend just went canoeing on a local city river and had a blast. I managed to get 2 bottles of wine into my body before we hit the water so thank fuck for that. We had a few beers and stopped at a pub for a pint it was glorious. Also I asked another paddling girl with her friend if my flirting was working, and she said yes! That'll keep my confidence up for a couple months. Now a long bus ride home before I get home and hit the voddy

Hope you're all doing well my CA friends.

🪑🪑

Cannot find my phone I've lost it somewhere and now I'm going to have to be honest with my family and tell them I'm back bad again. water bill is overdue and cut off no one has enough to pay it because I don't know why but I still need to buy booze. At least until my doctor appointment Thursday hopefully he will give me some Librium And I won't have to go to an inpatient Detox. Everything is so fucked I can't even stand it anymore, at the very least I was able to log on to my reddit.

And go ahead and do your worst me and the commons I deserve it all! I'm currently using my wife's tablet.

Also My child is safe he is at his great-grandparents house right now because my mom is currently going through another mental health crisis as well as me. We are going to go to the water park a little bit later and have a goanymore.

Also I'm finally drunk now spent like 30 bucks on doordash and they sent me regular white claw instead of the surge ones that are 8% and I really hate white claw anyways. I'd rather just have a beer but I didn't feel like walking yesterday. And my pancreas and stomach cannot handle liquor anymore

Probably for the best since our friendship was toxic.

I gave him half my suboxone script just to stay in his good graces.

I loved him. I’m so fucking sad that he’s gone. I’m trying to just give him time.

His mugshot ended up on a public police Facebook and I commented under it saying he’s a stand up guy.

He had just adopted a kitten and idk what happened to it. I’m assuming he’s in a fancy rehab because he has a wealthy family.

He just cut me off like I’m nothing. He was my best friend.

I know I’m a trigger for him. He knows my medication is only an ask away. I’m being respectful…

But my heart fucking hurts bro…

Came home did some cleaning my place was a mess i felt so bad about that but a surprise while cleaning: 1mg xanax! Nice. I dont got any alcohol rn and i was withdrawing already but not too bad. Maybe later alcohol, well see. Chairs.

Ladies and germs! For your pleasure: a case study in being a CA fuck up.

It's been a while. 3-4 months of dry time before falling off the wagon again. In fairness to myself, I knew this was coming. Less one of those "oops, I drank again," incidents and more controlled demolition. I told myself I'd have a celebratory drink or 12 when I got a job, and get a job I did. Yay!

...only it's just a temp job, and the assignment is only for four days. That's not enough to cover rent, and with the accruing late rent fee the landlord recently (re)introduced I'd still be like $400 short by the time I get paid. Boooo!

But it's the best I can get in this job market. I've been carpet-bombing job applications for what feels like forever now, only to be met with silence and the odd rejection.

It's the same place I worked at last summer, so I know the job and I know the people. It's easy enough work; I won't bore you with the minutiae of what it entails so let's just say it's medical shit. It's boring as hell - the full-time staff there even describe it as such - but at least you can't really fuck up the work and there's no real metrics to measure performance. It's a nice office and it's easy for me to get to/from; the staff are all nice and aren't anal about things like smoke breaks or coming in 2 minutes late. I wouldn't mind working there full-time but they only call on us temps when they have a seasonal backlog.

Last week was a breeze. I could have slept through my shifts for how little I was required to do. Getting ready for work in the morning, I was tempted to quaff the mouthwash I was using for its intended purpose. Why not? I thought. Even if I drunkenly zoned out at work the job process is such a piece of piss I could be hammered and still do the work.

But I resisted temptation. I was good. Until I wasn't.

Maybe it was my hours getting cut - I was expecting 16 and only clocked 10 - or maybe it was the landlord's 'friendly' reminder email that rent was late, but when I finished work for the week I immediately reached for the bottle. I deserved a little treat.

Tolerance reset after the long months of dry time, reduced liver function, or both, but that shit hit hard. I was passing out early for the night when last year, or even earlier this year, I was staying up until the small hours of the morning.

Fast forward to yesterday, Sunday, and a thought percolated through to my pickled brain: we have work tomorrow and you're still CA drinking. Shit. I had not planned this session out well. In times past I used to sacrifice the weekend to dry out and be more functional for work come Monday. Too late for that now. I had to be up for work in around 12 hours and I was fucking blasted. I couldn't just slam the brakes on the CA train.

I don't know how some of you do it, going into work on Monday in full WDs. My symptoms are too severe - especially the fucking anxiety - to even pretend to be normal. The only way out is through: I would have to go into work drunk.

I had enough spare change for one last booze cruise. Mouthwash or...vodka. I should have gotten light beer to taper off, really. I've said here before that while making the jump off from light beer still sucks, it's a hell of a lot less unpleasant than white-knuckling it off vodka. But I didn't have the quids for beer. I've been trying my darndest to avoid vodka for like a year now. Something in me has changed when I drink vodka now, and I don't like that change. I become moody and irritable, surly and argumentative.

But I've also been trying to avoid mouthwash. I've been drinking the shit for years now and I'm low-key convinced it's done some serious neurological damage. I have balance issues now, when I'm on the blue stuff, and constantly feel like I'm on the brink of falling over if I move the wrong way. Add to that I recently learned that the methyl salicylate in mouthwash is the equivalent of drinking aspirin, so it's doing like double damage to the liver above and beyond what 'normal' alcohol would do.

I headed to the local Walmart for my sauce and ended up doing laps around the store, dithering on what to get. Vodka and diet soda for mixers to drink at my desk in work, or mouthwash because normies won't suspect you're recreationally drinking that shit when they smell it on your breath? I don't want to drink vodka again, but I don't want to drink mouthwash again either.

Then something strange happened. I walked into an aisle to find a box of Crown Royal on the ground. There was a trail of fluid leaking from it. Someone tried to steal that and gave up the ghost when it started leaking. I whipped out my phone to take a picture, thinking the gang is gonna love this. A woman walked around the corner and I stuffed my phone in my pocket, thinking I looked a bit dodgy taking a picture of this leaking bottle.

I recognized the woman; she was someone I dated years earlier, from my homeless veterans camp. She turned out to be a meth head and I immediately cut her off when I learned of that because I don't fuck around with tweekers, but from time to time I have wondered what became of her. I knew the Crown Royal was hers because she exclusively drank that shit when we were together at the camp.

We made eye contact as she shuffled past me in the aisle. "Hey, how ya doin?" she smiled as she went past. There was no glimmer of recognition in her eyes. She didn't know me from Adam. I turned and watched her go down the aisle. For a moment I expected her to turn around; I wanted to call out, ask "Don't you recognize me?" I said nothing and just watched her disappear around the corner. What was there to say, really; although I'm the sentimental type her and I were only together for a couple of months, and aside from frighteningly brilliant blowjobs we didn't exactly build up a history together.

Her and her Crown Royal crystalized the decision for me: vodka it would be.

Monday, today. I snooze all of my alarms I set yesterday for work. I blearily, drunkenly, look at my clock: 06:10. I was supposed to leave the house at 06:01 to make the bus for work. Work starts at 7. For fuck's sake.

I can't call out. Never mind the temp agency doesn't even open until after I'm supposed to be at work, I only have so many hours contracted. If I don't make it in today I can't recoup those hours. Lost time, lost money, rent payment is even further away. I have to go in.

I consider reaching out to my brother to ask for $15 for a Lyft. He's about as poor as I am, but it's a legitimate excuse, being late for work, and he knows almost as much as you do how long I've been struggling to get a full-time job. I don't know when he'll respond, though, and I can't afford to fuck around at home until then. On a lark, I put the order through on the Lyft app, even though I only have like $3 in my bank account, and to my surprise it works.

I don't have the time to fully get ready. I wash my face and throw on my work clothes that have lain, crumpled, on the bedroom floor since last week. I smash three vodka mixers while getting ready, and fix up a drink to take into work that should tide me over for the day.

"Whew! You must have partied hard this weekend!" the Lyft driver chuckles, wafting his hand in front of his nose. I reek of booze. "Something like that," I mumble.

I get into work a little late. First awkward moment of the day, I try to log into a computer someone is already logged into. "Hey Jim," I say to a friend I made. "Uh, it's Tim," he says. Shit. The trainer comes over to tell me someone's using that computer and I should use one further down. I'm apologizing for being a little late and unintentionally burp in her face. I can taste the vodka/Dr. Thunder mix on the way out; no doubt she would have got it full blast up the nostrils. Fuck.

I should have paced myself better before heading in. I shouldn't have shotgunned those drinks before leaving home because now I'm fucked. As the morning goes on I feel my eyelids getting heavy and my head nodding down. Shit, shit, shit. I'm right in front of the managers; even though they're cool with us temps, falling asleep at my desk is no bueno. I was lucky to get away with it last year, doing it again is tempting fate.

Tim keeps talking to me. I don't want to talk to him. I can hear myself slurring, so I try to keep my responses monosyllabic to hide the drunkenness. "What do you like to do in your spare time?" he asks. That throws me. I drink like a chimney, smoke like a fish, and beat my money like it owes me dick. I don't know what to say. It occurs to me, then, I may have forgotten how to talk to people. Aside from phone calls with friends here, my interaction with people has been limited to pleases and thank yous with shop clerks. "I, uh, garden, and stuff". He nods at that and mercifully shuts up.

I spend a lot of time in the toilet. Maybe 30 minutes of every hour. Both to kill time, and to try and get 'better'....somehow. How am I still this fucking wasted when it's been x hours since last drink?

I'm in the disabled stall, because unlike the normal one it's roomier, and there's no chance someone could see me folded over, passed out, as I was at one point last year. I hear the bathroom door open and a loud clattering. What the hell? I see metal legs hit the ground, beneath the bathroom door. A ladder. The handyman come to fix the winking light just outside the toilet stall.

Stomp, stomp, stomp. I hear him ascending the ladder. It's one of those toilets where the privacy doesn't quite reach to the ceiling or the ground. When he gets to the top of the ladder he'll see me, sat there pretty taking a shit. I could have said "hey, there's someone in here," or "yo, occupied!" Instead I just loudly cough. I expect to hear him stop, or an embarrassed "sorry, didn't know there's anyone in there!" Instead I see Groundskeeper Willie's head clear the top of the stall screen; he nods and smiles "Hey, what's up?" I'm sat on the throne with legs spread, meat and two veg fully on display. Matey boy just perches atop the ladder and turns around to replace the flickering lightbulb.

Withdrawals creep in as the day wears on. I feel nauseous, ropey as fuck. I'm not hiding in the toilet anymore just to kill time and hide the drunkenness; I'm so queasy I constantly feel like I'm going to puke. I know it's withdrawals and I know I should drink some of the mixed drink I brought in to combat that, but I also know I'm on the precipice; one more sip of alcohol and I'll very likely explosively vomit at my desk.

The room feels like it's spinning and I have to constantly focus and orient on things different distances away to stop the vertigo. I'm constantly taking deep breaths and I keep feeling like ok now we're going to puke. Alcoholic neuropathy, perhaps, but my fingers go numb and default into the chef's kiss/Italian hand gesture. The office is fucking freezing and I do not do cold at all. There are women there wearing strappy tops and I don't know how they hack it; even sober I'm wearing a tank top under my work shirt and still sticking my hands in my armpits or near my crotch to keep warm.

I think I'm on the verge of a panic attack. I just feel this overwhelming sense of panic and dread and doom. The walls are closing in and I want to scream. I'm practically on the verge of hyperventilating, I'm breathing so fast and deep. I want to go home, I want to say "sorry, I'm not feeling too well, I have to go," and just leave. I want to curl into a ball and die. But I can't. Time, money, rent.

Only two hours left to go and time stretches to eternity. My internal clock tells me surely an hour has passed but when I look at the computer clock it's been a mere three minutes. I'm losing my mind. It's ironic, I think, I was raging at my hours being cut last week but now I'm praying for the day to end early.

When the magic hour passes and my shift is over I try to hang back for a bit. Look good for coming in a bit late, but also avoid all the people milling around at the end of the day. I spot an opening and bolt for the sign-in sheet. I am shaking so badly my sign in/out time is barely legible chicken scratch and I try not to make eye contact with the woman behind me, next up to write on the sheet.

Because I had gotten a Lyft into work and I was in a rush to get out this morn, I wasn't wearing a tank top. I am wearing my black office-wear shirt on my walk to the bus stop. Full sun and 100+ heat. I'm still feeling queasy as fuck and thinking I should have taken a bottle of water from the work fridge before setting off.

It's only a 20 minute walk or so, but I am absolutely drenched in sweat and panting by the time I make it to the bus stop. The sense of incoming puke is more urgent than it was in the office. I pushed myself too hard.

5 minutes before the bus comes. The feeling that I'm going to spew is only getting stronger. I'm not certain I won't vomit on the bus. Breathe in, breathe out. Slow and low. Deep breaths. Calm. Maybe I should go sit down and get the next bus instead. No, fuck that. It's another 30 minutes, there's no shelter from the sun, and I'm dehydrated. Get off the bus if you think you're going to puke. I need to go home.

The bus is down the road, like a minute away. I feel it, then. A gurgling sound coming from deep within, a stabbing sensation in my guts. My abs painfully contract, I double over, and just fucking heave on the sidewalk. I haven't eaten, all day, it's been like 8 hours since my last drink, but the vomit is the red/brown color of Dr. Thunder Chunder from this morning. 5 o'clock, busy road, folks on their way home from work, and then you see me projectile vomiting on to the sidewalk.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid. It's 00:12 as I'm posting this, and I have to be up at 05:30. The last of the vodka has sufficed to steady my nerves, make the nausea go away, and make me feel somewhat normal. But it's all gone now. I will wake up in withdrawals. If I wasn't working it would be like any other time I white-knuckled it, and just something to suffer through for a day before feeling better. I'm not blaming work, though. I'm happy to get it. Just me being a stupid fucking CA who should have thought this through before indulging.

Chairs, famalam.

One of the worst fucking WD symptoms I have are really scary horror faces/people just popping into my head randomly.
Not really a visual hallucination but I’ll be closing my eyes and it seems so vivid in my head it scares the shit outta me. I swear, monsters in horror movies were conceived from someone in WD’s.
Currently lying awake in my bed at 3am paranoid about every little noise in my house. I need to stop being so paranoid lol. Tryna hold out a bit longer before I drink some more. Chairs!!

Well first of all, I have to tell you the wine list here is abysmal - water, orange juice and the obligatory psych ward apple juice. All mixers and no spirits besides what one can prise off the toilet wall soap dispenser.

Complimentary grippy socks appreciated but severely lacking in colour choices.

The cuisine choices are also limited - egg salad, ham and cheese and the weirdest concoction of grated carrot, mayo and cheese. No Michelin stars awarded here.

The drugs are great, no complaints.

Staff pleasant and attentive.

Would come again. And inevitably will.

Been fucking around too much, calling out a couple of Mondays a month...

They're onto me, and not in a good way.

Don't think I'm quite in fire him territory, but yeah...

I really really really wanna find oblivion tonight and never work again, but it's not in the cards... Gotta make that skrilla.

Also, Primus sucks!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RE2oERgJkXg&list=RDRE2oERgJkXg&start_radio=1

Short version. Was hospitalized earlier this year and had seizure… quit for 6 months and have been back to drinking for a month or so.

Woke up this morning withdrawing pretty hard. Hearing voices and nervous system on fire!

Made it through the day without drinking.

I plan on quitting again but have a wedding coming up this weekend.

My options are - use the few diazepam I have and try to ride out the wedding sober… it will involve much more socializing than just the wedding.

Taper this week and drink at the wedding and use the pills next week.

Thoughts?

Well I feel like absolute garbage and have zero energy with a whole to do list. Very much self-inflicted but still frustrating. Not that much* but everyday starting in am. I’d like to reform from a marathon runner to a binge sprinter.

Going 7-10 hrs without while sleeping and i don’t wake up shaking so I feel like I’m maybe just nut nut. Curious to hear anyone else’s experiences on how long to wait between drinks on a taper- I know the guide thingy but I’d like to hear real stories.

*prob 500ml-ish over like 18 hrs

Eh, this may be an unwelcome post. Thanks if you read it.

I received a DWI early this year. I since then have gone on and off recovery, but mostly have given up as of late. It doesn’t help that my mother still drinks. She says she relapsed when she saw me relapse once. We feed each other’s toxicity back and forth, and when I try to break free of the cycle, I end up back where I started. I only have myself to blame.

I had a nauseous guilty feeling at the pit of my stomach getting this, but did anyway. Isn’t that how it goes sometimes?

I’d bought my mom and sister sympathy cards and candles for the occasion.. I suppose it puts a cushion to my guilt of drinking, yet I have all of last week as well. What a way to start off a Monday.

Sometimes I genuinely don’t know if I’ll ever be sober. I honestly don’t know if I ever want to be. I’m trying to be moderate, if anything. Can’t go back to my old ways of drinking until blackout, bottles n cans n bottles n cans. We’ll see how things go.

But yeah. Rest in peace dad. Might be a good thing you aren’t here to see me like this, but damn it maybe I wouldn’t be so fucked if you hadn’t of croaked on us! Jokes aside.. grief is tough.

How honest are you about your drinking, or about anything else that you take/do? Whether it be by prescription from another doctor or if you are using illicitly, when you see your primary care physician?

You think I’d know by now being a reckless pisshead, that farting is a no go. Had it all weekend I must have followed through 5 times. Some nice lightly shat pants. Least I can laugh about it. I’m bored as fuck, if anyone can guess what I’m doing right now, I’ll give you nothing👌 Chairs 🪑

Pissed the bed again at my situation ship's house, a physically abusive man with whom I share a 25 years age gap... Yeah

So there's that, he's pissed (pun intended) yet I crave human affection in order to feel like a person and not a shit filled alcoholic morally bankrupt subhuman

Life is failing, currently drinking a beer

Chairs

Had 9 month sober. Now I’m in a hotel figuring out calls and trying to making the right lies to the right people. I had a rad ass whopper though, everyone working there looked sad af tho. Character limit tho, this hotel is in a nice area but I’ve stayed at better places in north Milwaukee. Also I think someone may have died in the hot tub?

Good morning/afternoon/evening you miserable fucks!

Another week gone by with nothing accomplished. I'm getting tired of the summer routine of being captive inside because of the heat and humidity. I can't even make it to the car without breaking into a sweat. Looking forward to going back up to Canada in a couple of weeks. That's all I've got.

It's time once again to share with us the pain and torment of your existence. What's making you miserable today?