Alcohol.

When Andy and I started dating, I was 19 and he was 25. And he wasn’t a drinker. 

When I turned 21, it really wasn’t a big deal.

I remember drinking at home here and there but Andy wouldn’t have a single drink if he were working the next day. 

I got pregnant with Rex a couple months before I turned 22 and then I breastfed him until he was nearly 18 months old. So, by doing the math, I was 24 when I was free to drink again. 

When I was 25 my drinking really started to pick up speed. 

Within a matter of weeks, we had 3 people in my family die somewhat suddenly (one of which my grandpa, age 69), we were also getting married, and I started to realize that my career was wreaking havoc on my family. 

So at night, I drank. 

It helped me to relax. It helped me to escape. It helped keep me from so many mental breakdowns. 

I quit my job.. and while that helped ease the daily stress my kids and I were under, it added on the feelings of failure. I failed at this career that I was so excited about, that I had invested so much time and energy with. And when I put an end to it, it made me feel awful in a completely different way. 

The drinking became daily. The amount slowly kept increasing. What used to take 2 drinks to relax me, turned into 4, which eventually turned into 6. 

Andy drank right alongside me. 

And we really enjoyed it. 

We’d have friends and family over as much as possible to play games, enjoy a bonfire and drink. When we were at our family’s cabin it didn’t really matter what time of day it was with drinking because WE WERE AT THE CABIN! We really loved drinking and having a good time with people. And because we were having fun we didn’t view it as a problem. Even when I hit my head while dancing or hit my head from tripping or hit my head from missing my chair, I didn’t have a drinking problem. I was having fun! Even if I couldn’t remember most of the night. Even if I had to ask Andy how I got to bed the night before. It wasn’t a problem. 

Right. 

Now it’s two years later and within the last couple of months it has started to bother me how much we’ve been drinking. I suggested once that we “only drink on weekends” and we only made it to Tuesday. 

It was an awful feeling. 

I also vowed to myself within the last couple of months that I would remember everything that happened while drinking and I wouldn’t let myself get a hangover. 

This is when my eyes really opened. 

All it took was one night of drinking with Andy and our friends while I was taking it easy. I realized how much I hated being around Andy when he was drunk (don’t worry.. he knows this, we’ve talked about it and I got his permission to say these things).

Fast forward two weeks later and we were going out with friends. I was crossing my fingers that Andy wouldn’t get too drunk and we could really enjoy the time together. 

I ended up having to put him to bed at 10:15pm.

But, I met back up with friends.. and barely remember getting home at 2:00am. 

The next morning we vowed to each other to be done drinking. 

While I had slowly began realizing how big of a problem we had with alcohol, it hit Andy like a brick wall. 

Today, we’re on day 11 of no alcohol. 

I had previous plans to take my grandma to a distillery for her birthday (on day 5 of no drinking) and I got through the tour while passing on every free sample they offered. 

We made it through the holiday celebrations and everyone drinking around us. 

We’ve (somehow) been living with beer in our fridge and tequila in our freezer. 

I’m already 5lbs lighter. 

I’d say we’re doing pretty well.