quote from yesterday’s writing session [fiction]:
The teacup of brown liquid.
You break so many glasses that you have resorted to buying cheap crap now, and this pink flowered teacup came from the Salvation Army store, where you can get 10 cups for two bucks. The liquid itself is coffee liqueur that you may have borrowed from the restaurant kitchen. Perhaps it was to make the stacked-crepe-as-cake recipe. Or perhaps it was to drink. You always bring a cup of something to bed with you, so that you can sip right up until you close your eyes. For no good reason, really. It’s not like you’re going to enjoy it, it’s not like there’s any ‘fun’ to be had in bed with the lights off, the cup to your lips, your eyes closed already (I’m just resting my eyes, you say).
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*your comments and suggestions definitely act as motivation to keep going; don’t discount the power of community, of reaching out, supporting and being supported*
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I’d always pour more wine than I actually planned on drinking to bring up to bed to watch TV, read, computer however I was blasting my way through until sleep. Usually, it would be half full in the morning. Ha, that certainly proved I didn’t have a problem or it would be empty! Tricky…duh…trying to keep my level just below the headache line….tricky
I din’t because no one knew I was drinking – at least that’s what I thought. No, the little bottles of wine were hidden in a purse, a drawer, or a large pocket, and I would swig up until going to bed. Yuk – so good to have those days behind me!
Not often but occasionally. If the booze/bedtime equation hadn’t worked out right and I had more than half a glass left I would “save it for morning” rather than dumping it…never mind that in the morning I would dump it in disgust anyhow.
I did. I did it because I didn’t want to stop
Drinking. Not until I pased out
I did bring a glass to bed sometimes. Seems so crazy now. What was I thinking?
This is something ( finally!) that I’ve never done. Wolfe is telling me that this means I don’t have a problem! Asshat.
I used to believe it helped me fall asleep. A rum n diet while I read my book. God. Then wake up at 4 am witching hour and be grossed out by the smell. Or I’d sit up to finish the bottle of wine because there was not enough to save! Gotta start w a fresh bottle.
I didn’t ever take my wine to bed, but I’d take it to the bathroom so I could have that last drink before I brushed my teeth. There the empty glass would be, next to the sink, red streaks in the bottom, when I woke in the morning.
I understand the cheap glasses. I wasn’t the breaker of glasses in my house, that was another drinker, but as the one largely in charge of shopping for replacements, I learned not to buy anything but the cheapest. We stopped using stemmed wine glasses years ago. The squat stemless ones are harder to break. 🙂
Guilty of this, I figured those last few sips would help me stay passed out. I’m a terrible sleeper, always have been. And if there was any left over the next day I’d save it for later…yuck!
Yeah, been there, done that. Oddly, it was with whisky (‘decent’ stuff, in the way these things are supposed to be), and nearly always woke up with it only half drunk. So why take it to bed, when I knew it was going to happen? Strange, these things we do when our motivation is not fully our own
Yup, put it on my nightstand, sipped on it if I woke up, finished in the morning if it was still there. Never waste alcohol, it’s alcohol abuse. I am so happy to not have to worry about it anymore. 😀
Yes, I did bring that “last” drink to bed. Scotch, wine, lots of wine. Would try to read – when I opened my book, would not remember where I was, what I had read the night before or the night before. A sober friend and I laugh… “Normie, don’t bring wine to bed”. We used to think it was normal – finish off that bottle before bed. Not any more. Waking up clear headed – no worry about the last (mean) things said to my guy. No need to brush my teeth and tongue two times. Now I wake ready for the world.
Yep! drank till I dropped into bed. Of course normal people don’t take a drink to bed with them! Duh!! Normies also don’t drink a whole bottle of wine either!! I’m glad I’m here right now. Day 1. This blog is so relatable for me.
Often went to bed with a glass of wine and pretended to read. And this is true…and happened a few weeks before I really, really decided to stop drinking. My husband found me in bed, propped up on a pillow but asleep, with a full glass of wine balanced on my abdomen with my hands resting around it. I was dead asleep/passed out. One of those signs that enough is enough.
There is nothing pleasant about waking up next to a half full captain-n-diet with a nasty brown lemon wedge in it, usually next to half of a now cold hot pocket (or something equally nutritious). But I used to wake up to just such a sight once a week or so. And my tv would be turned up too loud with the DVD movie menu song playing over and over and over. Had I started the movie and passed out while watching…? Or did I pass out before I even started it? Then to the kitchen to make ramen noodles, or even worse, drive to McDonalds for a greasy breakfast even though I was probably still to drunk to drive.
Thinking about these mornings is making me tear up, because I have not had one in over a hundred and thirty days. Yeay!!
Yup, always took a glass of wine to bed and usually fell asleep half way through the movie. I hated the smell of that glass in the morning and the terrible taste in my mouth, and so tired from another shitty sleep.
Ditto
I’ve woken up and found a full glass of wine, half empty glass of wine and an empty glass, and always thought, why did I bring that up to bed? I don’t remember, or I thought I would just sip it, but I usually just fell to sleep (passed out). Would wake up and wonder what happened at bedtime, did I say something stupid, did I drunk text anyone? It is SO MUCH BETTER now that I’m not worrying about that, plus I’m sleeping better too!
The amount of times I woke to dried red tannins in my wine glass, thoroughly disgusted in myself and almost sick from whiffing it as soon as I woke. Usually accompanied by crumbs on a plate… and not remembering what I ate with it. That’s a feral way to wake up.
Then the torturous first glimpse of my blotched skin, dark circles under my eyes, then the internal self abuse.
Desperate dive into the kitchen to find the first carb-loaded, greasy, salty thing I can find.
I have no idea why I drank in bed, other than perhaps I was coherent enough to know how I’d feel if I passed out on the couch, so took myself off to bed because I still had wine left (leaving it in the glass to go to bed just wasn’t an option).