Houston, We Have a Problem…
ache: (1)(a) to suffer an unusual dull persistent pain (b) to become distressed or disturbed (as with anxiety or regret) (c) to feel compassion (2) to experience a painful eagerness or yearning
Somewhere during my life as an excessive drinker, I wrote down this definition of the word ache on a little slip of paper and stuck it in the back of my journal and referred to it often. Because this is how I felt ALL THE TIME. I ached with misery, shame, unhappiness and guilt about my drinking, about my life, about not being the best version of myself, about not being a good parent to my cat, or a good wife to my husband/best friend. It didn’t really matter what it was, I felt so bad about everything that I was emotionally bruised and battered and unsure about which direction to go. My brain was stuck in neutral and unable to come up with a way out of the mess of negative emotions I found myself trapped in. I knew I needed to stop drinking (or at least moderate my drinking to “normal” levels, because I certainly was not ready to quit forever) but I didn’t know if I could. Every time I tried to cut back, I ended up drinking MORE within a short amount of time and feeling even worse about myself (it didn’t even seem like that was possible). My whole life was being lived in “dull persistent pain.” My anxiety levels were through the roof and I found myself taking more and more Xanax in the middle of the night to shut up the panicked thoughts in my alcohol-soaked brain. I woke up every morning feeling sluggish, fat, unhappy, ashamed and determined to be better, to feel better. I told myself I would do anything that stopped the massive downward spiral of unhappiness I found myself trapped in. I was misery personified. And then I would open the next bottle of beer, pour the next glass of wine, or sip on the next cocktail. And nothing changed.
I am not a religious person, but I wrote down a quote from the Bible on the same slip of paper under my definition of ache. It is from Proverbs 14:13: “Even in laughter the heart may ache, and joy may end in grief.” To me, this perfectly captured the lie I was living every day. I would laugh with others and my heart ached. And I always ended my day crying, alone in my office, in the dark, feeling trapped and afraid and oh so very drunk.