Chapter 6: Carrie

When I woke up, I felt like crap. Normally, I would have taken a few drinks to knock down any chance that a hangover might settle in. There were no alcoholic drinks left in the house, so I didn’t.

As the day progressed, I felt worse and worse, I had a pulsating headache, and I was shivering and sweating. My body needed a drink, but my mind kept echoing what Ernie had told me. My husband was there with me, helping me in any way he could. I felt ashamed for what I had put him through in these last years.

That first night, I don’t think I slept more than an hour. My dreams were filled with nightmares and awake I was filled with dread. I had the ‘I’m-dying’ dream. That one was horrible because I could feel my life-force spiral out of me, like a tornado in reverse, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I knew I’d be saved if I woke up, but I couldn’t.

I thought I was going to die. In my confused mind, I kept repeating to myself that I’d rather die while trying to get sober than live my life as a slave to alcohol.

I spent the weekend in the bedroom with the lights off and the blinds down. I lost count of how many times I went from the bed to the toilet. While I vomited, Ernie held my head and made sure I drank small sips of ice-cold water. My head was banging, and the nausea was not subsiding. I could barely keep fluids down.

Ernie talked with the town’s doctor, and he gave him a prescription for anxiety medication, and I, finally, could get a much-needed rest.

Next Monday, I wasn’t feeling any better, so I called in sick and explained that I had caught ‘the flu’. I remember having overwhelming urges to drink. Honestly, if I wasn’t so sick to go anywhere, I might have. I had to remind myself constantly why I quit drinking.

By Thursday, I was feeling well enough to go back to work.

Before leaving for work, Ernie said to me, “You can do it. Remember what it is at stake. Call me if you need help.”

My boss took just one look at me, and said, “Carrie, you look pale as a ghost. Why don’t you take until next week?”

“The doctor said I could work if I drank plenty of water and didn’t push myself too hard,” I lied.

“Okay, but if you don’t feel well, let me know.”

Somehow, I managed to finish that day without drinking and drove straight home.

Over the next few days, I felt stronger and more in control. I finished reading the book and started working on the first steps.

When next Saturday arrived, I attended my second A.A. meeting. Sandra asked me about my first week of sobriety, and I told the group about my days of shivering and vomiting.

“It was total hell,” I admitted, after I had shared all the gory details of my detox. “The good thing is that I’m making remarkable progress with the twelve steps, and I am well into step four. I anticipate finishing that step in the next few days and proceed with the remaining steps within the next few weeks.”

The group listening to my blathering, cocked their heads to one side, smiled, and said, “Oh, really?” as politely as you can imagine. Nobody laughed at me or told me I was stupid, crazy, and full of it.

They all hugged me and sincerely asked me to keep coming back.

I was filling my Styrofoam cup with coffee, when Cindy tapped me on the back and asked, “Do you have a sponsor yet?”

“No,” I answered. “Will you sponsor me?”

Cindy was reluctant. “I’m already sponsoring someone else.”

I begged her because I knew intuitively that she was the person I needed.

Finally, Cindy agreed to take me on.

“Listen, Carrie. I want you to shelve your fourth step until your head clears a little. Some people bash through the twelve steps and are drunk again in a short while. They sober up again, only to repeat the same mistake with more impatience than before, with the same dire consequences. They repeat the same pattern until they finally give up on treatment and conclude that A.A.’s twelve steps don’t work.

“Sobriety is a marathon, not a sprint. Start small. Do the first thing. Do the next thing. Remember the work you do on the first thing transfers to the next thing. It is better if you don’t try to do everything at once. Remember our motto, ‘One day at a time’.”

“Okay, I just want to get well and leave all this in the past.”

She smiled at me. “Aww, sweetie, you will be an alcoholic even after you stop drinking. Alcoholism is a chronic condition, meaning it is a lifelong struggle that requires ongoing management and vigilance, even during periods of sobriety.”