Last Sunday I decided drinking some wine and reading a book at the beach would be a nice relaxing thing to do. I wasn’t going to drink more than a glass or two… said my brain. But why then did I have two bottles of wine with me? I had left one in the car, somehow that made me seem to have some restraint. I was going to be just fine… said my brain.

It was a beautiful relaxing day.

Then, the booze kicked in… the bottle was empty. I couldn’t read anymore and was restless… wanted to do something. And like most times when I drink too much alone I decided to get a tattoo. I have a very strict rule to not drink and drive. I didn’t feel drunk though and so I drove. (It is choices like these that are unforgivable. I crossed a line. Simply unforgivable.) I showed up at the tattoo parlor and got in line for my turn. It would be about an hour wait. Since I didn’t feel drunk I though it would be a great idea to pull out the other bottle of wine from my car to prep for the procedure. I guzzled the bottle. The booze hit me hard fairly quickly. No doubt about my being drunk now.

In this genus state I forgot that I become deeply depressed. So now I have a tattoo with a peace sign circled with the words: “I am finished”. Great. Now I have to either live with something I really don’t want because it is so negative or have it removed. What a dumb ass.

After I left the tattoo parlor it was obvious I couldn’t drive. I decided to walk across the street to a coffee shop and try to sober up. Well, being so drunk I stumbled and fell smack on my face. My eyeglasses smashed into my eye and my head hit the ground pretty hard. I sat up and could feel my eye swelling shut. Touching my face the gravel was trickling down and I could feel the scrapes and blood. I couldn’t see well enough to find my eyeglasses. It was too embarrassing to go to the coffee shop.

I gathered myself up and went to my car and slept for a couple hours.

When I woke up my eye was in very bad shape. I couldn’t see out of my eye and I had no glasses. I felt the need to get home though so I drove. I doubt if I would have passes a sobriety test, and in hindsight it must have been wrong. I felt sober. It was another dumb ass decision.

When I got home my husband was shocked but didn’t say a word. We got back in the car and went to find my glasses. They were so damaged that I can’t use them. The fall must have been significant.

I was a drunken dumb ass.

With this very clear example of drinking gone wrong I still hold onto the hope that I can train myself to drink in moderation. It sounds stupid even to me, but I feel compelled to try. I have been attempting it for a month now and have gone off the deep end twice. Third time is it… trial will be over and I will go back to abstinence. I have more times than not been able to manage sticking to one drink. It is never easy, but doable and satisfying when successful. Makes me feel a bit normal.

Time will tell just how big a dumb ass I turn out to be.