I got a little drunk last night. And by last night, I mean this weekend. And by a little, I mean a lot. I used to drink until my heart was content when I was younger. I was basically a weekend alcoholic, which in some ways, is just as bad as a regular alcoholic. I used to go out pretty much every weekend from the time I was 22 until about 25. I rarely had my kids on the weekend because I usually had to work. So I was a Sunday night through Friday evening mom. The kids would end up staying the weekend at their other family’s house or with someone in my family. I could have been a 7 day a week mom. I was before the partying got me and I was again after I decided to stop all the madness. I remember it like it was yesterday, which is ironic, because during that time, I was usually black out drunk and either wondering how I got home or how to get home from whatever random place I woke up in. And now, I can barely remember yesterday. When I finally decided to quit drinking, I thought I could still go out to my regular places a.k.a. the bars and I tried to give it an honest shot the last time I ever went out during that phase of my life. I went to the club with my friend who was also a weekend drinker and I decided I would not drink that night. I was there for an hour or so, having the most miserable time sober. The DJ, who knew me from being a regular, came up to me and asked why I looked so miserable and a little green. He said I looked sick. And I told him I was fine. He asked if I wanted a drink and when I told him I was trying to quit drinking, he immediately knew why I looked sick and green. He left his partner to spin the tunes and took me out of the bar to go get some food. We went to Denny’s and talked over my Eggs over MyHammy or some other ridiculously named meal. I told him I could feel myself spiraling out of control which is never a good thing when you come from a long line of alcoholics and I was trying to be proactive in stopping it. We talked for a while and when the night was close to ending, I went back to the bar to pick up my drunken friend. I never stopped drinking completely. I would still go out occasionally, very occasionally, but the outcome was always the same. I’d always start with the intention of one or two and in the midst of my good time, two would turn to six, would turn to eight, would turn to blacking out. I never HAD to drink after that one time I stopped. I could go weeks or months with never a thought of it, but as soon as I started, it was a snowball effect. I eventually outgrew it. I figured out my limits. I knew I could have 4 shots and be good. I knew after five, the ball would start to roll. I would want to go out dancing or singing karaoke, which is ok, but five usually turns to six, to eight, to blackout again and so I always stop at 4. I’ve actually been really, really good at following my 4 drink rule. Sometimes, I overindulge, but not often. This weekend was one of those times. Not only did I overindulge and get sloppy drunk, I turned into an asshole. Not like a cute little smirk on the face asshole either, like a super duper should have been thrown in jail or off a roof asshole. I guess my sober mind has my emotions under lock and key. My drunken mind, opened the lock, swallowed the key and refused to shit it out. I. Was. Awful. Everything was all fine at first. I was happy. I was joking. I was even speaking in my fake British accent. And then I saw a picture on a phone that immediately put me in a bad mood and turned my happy drunk into psycho bitch crazy drunk. So I went upstairs to shower off my hate ( I was at a house getting snowed in, not a club). Instead of washing off my anger, the heat of the shower must have intensified the alcohol or maybe the copious amounts I had ingested coincidentally kicked in during my shower. Either way, by the time my shower was over, I was blacked out and ready to fight. Reports of said night, by innocent bystanders, include me yelling and screaming, trying to get in my car to drive home, unsuccessfully, and punching someone in the face for trying to stop me. The following day, I woke up with a super duper headache, a swollen hand, and a spinning room. When that wore off, I offered apologies around the room and thanks for not letting me be an idiot and drive. All is mostly forgiven. I will expect it to be brought up from time to time for the rest of my life though. Needless to say, I’m reverting back to my no drinking/ 4 shot limit so as not to embarrass myself any further. It’s funny how you can forget lessons you’ve already learned a hundred times over until you decide to repeat them.