There is something about me that most of my readers do not know. In my "inner circle" it is known, but to most people who are not part of my "inner circle" it is not common knowledge. In college, I discarded the fact that, statistically, I had a very high chance of developing into an alcoholic, that the addictive gene was coursing through my veins. The fact that this was a part of me was not helped by the situation at home. I became addicted, trying and craving, needing, every illicit drug out there, almost every one I tried. I was, honestly, a mess. Looking back now, I can see that.
When I left college (ok, dropped out) and left home, I was forced to get clean. This is fact. And I got clean, being out of the situation, I wasn't even tempted to smoke, shoot, snort, pop, eat, etc any kind of illegal drug. Notice the wording.
I still had that feeling like I needed alcohol. Those genes were, in many ways, the driving force behind things. I worked in the chapel during Basic Training because, as anyone will tell you, the Catholics ALWAYS have wine, lol. I, still to this day, do not know if it was real wine or not, it may just have been my mind thinking it was real wine and just thinking I was getting that alcohol was enough for me.
Once I met Master, I was good, I didn't drink until we moved off base. But, as in the past, my genes got the better of me and I stopped holding back. I think, at this point, I told Master about my past drug use and He might have figured out the alcohol thing by that time, or very soon after.
There were quite a few times I remember waking up in that apartment after having a drink or two the night before and feeling like things were ok but struggling and needing that boost on days when I didn't have even a beer. With Master's help and understanding, I got my drinking under control.
Master and I found out we were expecting our first child very soon after moving to Alaska. I was good, didn't drink the entire pregnancy, didn't have that urge at all. I won't get into what happened with our first child here, because this is not the place for that story, just know it did not end well. That is all I will say because I am not looking for sympathy.
After the result of our first pregnancy, I slipped. Starting with a night of drinking with Master to forget what happened, it was downhill from there. If it is any consolation, I have not touched an illegal drug since that last night before leaving home, I have not even had the urge to do it and I have been around it since that night.
I slipped. I don't think either of us realized just how bad I slipped, how much I seemed to need that next drop of alcohol to get through, to numb and dull the pain. Master had His work, I had my alcohol. I, honestly, don't know how much of it Master knew about, how much He realized was going on, and how much He just turned His head to, dealing with things in His own way. Did I mention Master is also the child of an alcoholic, just as I am? That might have been some of the reason He might have sort of turned a blind eye to my drinking at that point, neither of us really wanted to admit, deep down, that I was like our fathers.
I cleaned up right before we found out we were pregnant again. I really don't know what it was that told me I had to get sober, but something told me I had to. I got sober.
Fast forward a few years, our relationship has fully shifted to a full BDSM M/s dynamic. When it came time for Master to set rules, He made one I didn't even think to fight, that I needed to get permission before I drank. Even without me telling Him, Master knew and understood that I could very easily slip back down that slope. Maybe it was the shared genes, that addictive family history that made Him realize and understand even before I did.
He has eased up slightly. I am allowed to have a glass of wine now and then without asking. But, tonight, when I had a glass while watching my Sunday night me time TV (chick flick tv, Army Wives, Good Christian Bitches, Full Metal Jousting, etc...), and I found myself fighting, for the first time in a long time. Fighting myself and my inner voice. For some reason, I felt that craving tonight for another glass, the need for another glass. It has been a long time since I have really felt that extra struggle to control myself. I won't lie, it is a daily struggle, and it always will be, I will fight that demon, that possessive demented being that has a grip on my very DNA, fighting that grip it has on my psyche.
For some reason tonight, though, that struggle was even more prominent. I felt myself tonight starting to loose control, to loose that grip I had on the demons. I really have never said the word, I have called myself a recovering drug addict, a former dope fiend, but never an...alcoholic.... Is that what I really am? Have I really been denying that all this time? Sugar coating it to try to make myself feel better? Refusing to completely accept the truth in an effort to deny any similarities to my father?
I will say, happily and, in a way, proudly, that I fought the urge tonight to have that second glass of wine that would have led to a third and probably fourth. Instead, I slowly finished that first glass and stopped, even thought that did mean putting away the bottle with half a glass of wine left in it. I switched to sweet tea.
I can fight this, I have done it before.
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