24hr liquor store

Spoiler: I obviously did not
I left rehab after only being there for 5 days, because I disagreed with the way things were run at that cult of a place. Making you write a 4 page apology essay for leaving your coffee cup out after 1pm, or wearing sweats to breakfast, or cursing too many times. When I called my mom to pick me up, I was told that I wasn’t allowed to come home. So I grabbed my shit and started walking with no plan whatsoever. I found a liquor store, bought 2 pints and continued walking until I found a park. Got trashed and lied to a group of people that I was kicked out of my house for “reasons out of my control” so they’d give me some food and water. I ended up blacking out for the rest of the evening until I woke up on the sidewalk covered in bruises behind a piece of cardboard cuddling some random homeless guy twice my age. In the time I was blacked out, I got everything stolen from me. They beat the shit out of me. Everything I brought to rehab with me, clothes/hygiene products. My phone, my wallet, even my house keys. They left my backpack and purse, just completely empty. Not long after that, my mom somehow found me and made me go to the hospital.
I was only sober because I had no access to my money because my wallet was stolen, but now since I figured out Apple Pay, I’ve been binging. I really thought that getting the shit beat out of me and everything stolen would be the catalyst for me, but clearly not. I have another rehab facility lined up, I just need to find a way to get there, because it’s an hour away from my house. I’m just hoping this place isn’t like the last. This will be my 5th time doing residential.

I'm a zoomer with a very distant memory of people smoking cigarettes inside in restaurants and other public places. For most of my life, it has not been legal for people to smoke inside public establishments. My parents never smoked, and I don't smoke tobacco often (other than a few times in college just to try them out after drinking). Basically, during my development I've never had the chance to "get used to" or "adjust to" the smell of tobacco smoke. But still, I've never thought the smell is all that bad or gross. Its always been something I haven't minded, even as a child.
I remember being very young and indoor smoking becoming somewhat rare. My parents and I were at one of the last remaining restaurants with a smoking section (without a wall or door for separation, of course), and we could smell smoke coming from the other section. They were complaining about it, but I distinctly remember thinking that it wasn't really bad. I wish smoking hadn't been allowed there because of the danger of secondhand smoke to kids, but I don't think that there should be a total ban on smoking inside anywhere. As long as kids aren't being affected, I think smoking should be allowed in bars, clubs, liquor stores, casinos, etc. if the owner wants. I personally think people who complain about the smell of smoke are just whining. Even if it's a little unpleasant, whatever, people are legally allowed to have body odor or fart in public spaces. At the end of the day, if you're at an establishment that allows smoking inside and you have a problem, go to a different establishment that doesn't, even if you have asthma or are recovering from tobacco addiction. Again, this does NOT apply to people under 21, as their lungs are still developing and they don't have as much agency in where they are taken to.

I'm really nervous to post this, but here is goes. I think I am ready to admit I struggle with alcoholism, but only to strangers on the internet for right now.
I have never considered myself dependent on alcohol because I am an extremely high functioning, to my own detriment. How can I have a problem if I drank my way through a masters program only to graduate with a 4.0? I'm not drinking a handle of rum and screaming at everyone around me like my mother did. I've never missed a day of work despite being either still a bit buzzed or completely hungover. I haven't had a rock bottom yet, so obviously I'm good right?
Not really. My first red flag is that I have become really sneaky about my drinking. For over a year I always have a 750ml bottle of whiskey in my office closet, hiding my drinking from my partner. I rotate between six different liquor stores so I don't become a weekly regular anywhere. It was working great until the paranoia of being found out started seeping into every corner. I listen for footsteps in the house and hide my glass when anyone walks past my office, I've almost been caught several times. I worry when my parter and I pop into a liquor store for beer or something that the cashier will recognize me and say something. I feel so guilty and ashamed. I keep thinking I'll stop before it gets out of hand.
Second red flag is the cycle of binge drinking, waking up feeling horrible, and justifying drinking more just to feel better. That cycle has reached a point where I don't even feel good from the alcohol, I just drink it to feel not sick. It's not fun, it's not productive, and I hate it. I feel so embarrassed when I shakily hand my ID card to some kid working the liquor store cash register, buying a bottle of whiskey at noon on a Tuesday. I feel like everyone is looking at me and they see right through me.
The catalyst that really broke me happened this past Monday. For about 5 weeks now I have been taking Wellbutrin for depression. My doctor told me not to drink while taking it, but I figured it was fine because they always say that. When I had a check-in on Monday, and admitted my drinking hadn't really stopped, she told me that my choices are stop drinking or she will have to switch me to a new antidepressant because as she said it, Wellbutrin, more so than other antidepressants, can severely lower your seizure threshold. I had to make a choice in that moment: either use this as an opportunity to make a positive change, or allow drinking to continue controlling my life and switch to a new medication whose therapeutic benefits will probably be cancelled out by said drinking. I chose to stay on Wellbutrin and haven't had a drink since. It has been three days, 14 hours, and 28 minutes.
I'm past the worst of the physical withdrawal symptoms but my brain is doing mental gymnastics all day trying to justify why it's okay to drink just a little or thinking about upcoming events and immediately thinking, well I can at least drink at those, right? Surely seizures and alcoholism doom spirals take breaks for special events, right? Ugh. I'm just feeling so lost and out of my depths. My third red flag is that at my worst, I actually feel like risking a seizure is a reasonable trade for a buzz and for not having to go through my day sober. Being sober feels too heavy, too grounded, too quiet. I have spent years using alcohol to avoid having to sit in the quiet with my own thoughts. That's how I know I need to do some heavy reevaluation of my priorities.
Thank you for reading if you are still here. I have never admitted all this to anyone before. People see me as a leader, highly responsible and dependable, top-of-my-class, having a lot of potential. Everyone thinks I have my life together, they ask me for advice. I feel like a fraud and an imposter. If only they knew how I spend my evenings isolated in my office. I already feel better physically than I have in a really long time, but emotionally I feel wrecked, anxious, and frightened. I feel like I'm losing my best friend in alcohol and no replacement feels like enough.
These past few days have been rough, but this group has really helped me get through it so far. When bad cravings hit, or depression gets overwhelming, I have been searching this group for motivation and it is here in abundance. I don't know any of you, but I'm really grateful for all of your authenticity, honesty, and vulnerability. Thank you for cultivating the first space I have ever felt safe in to finally admit to the darkest side of my life. IWNDWYT
edit: changed to struggle with alcoholism, and dependent on alcohol. After reading the comments, I realize the term alcoholic could be viewed in the wrong spirit, I'm sorry. I'm just really struggling with the emotional side of not drinking today.

This March I decided to stop drinking.
I wasn't a constant drinker, but I used to use alcohol as a coping mechanism when times were tough (and they were very tough very frequently), though even when I drank for 'fun' I frankly didn't have my drinking under control.
My lowest point were a couple months in 2021/2022 during which I drank between one and two bottles of wine nearly every day.
So this March after a night spent blacked out after too many cosmopolitans I decided that it was time for me to quit.
I told my partner about this. I'd already told them about the 2021/2022 wine drinking. I remember them being a bit shocked about it. They were also with me that awful cosmopolitan night and took care of me while I was completely out of it. They witnessed first hand my inability to control my drinking.
Yet one day not too long after that decision they told me that I was going to have to drink with them this summer, because there's this one drink that's sooo delicious and refreshing. I asked them why I had to. Their response - because it's so gooood.
I told them off. I told them that there was a reason that I quit drinking. I told them they were being disrespectful. I told them that I never even considered trying to make them break their vegan diet, so why would they think it'd be okay to make me break my sobriety? I reminded them of the 2021/2022 thing. They didn't remember me having told them about it before. Hokay??
A while later they again started texting me about that drink that they'd talked about earlier and how good it was. When I complained they said that they weren't trying to seduce me into drinking, they were just making conversation.
There was another incident a couple weeks ago at a large store where I panicked when we went through the liquor and wine isles and just kinda speed walked through them to get the heck outta there, and they didn't seem to notice at all that I was overwhelmed and made me walk through the section again to take a different 'better' route through the supermarket. I have mixed feelings about this because on the one hand I should have communicated better in the situation, but on the other hand I wish they would take some initiative to be supportive and thoughtful in regards to my sobriety.
I know that it is my responsibilty to take care of myself, to communicate my needs and boundaries and to handle my sobriety, but I really wish I had some more support that I don't have to beg for.

Made it about halfway there and then realized I forgot my wallet. I could of probably walked in, they could of probably recognized me and let it slide. But, it was enough of a sign to keep on driving and hit the smoothie shop instead. Sitting in my car drinking a green smoothie that I bought with the cash I leave in the car and feeling thankful I forgot that damn wallet.

Hi. Going to keep it brief. I'm over 1.5 years sober, and the alcoholism is raising its voice. The last week or so, I have been so, so angry and cannot understand why. I find myself having those uncontrollable emotional moments that I would only "let" myself have while drinking (private moments, I mean - I'm still under control enough to keep it from being pointed outward at innocent targets, but my resiliency feels down and people can tell that I'm in a mood). I feel like I'm drowning in this one emotion that I hate, and it's making me think about drinking. I don't even have a specific "go to baliquor store" thought but just the flavor in my mouth or the memory of what being drunk is like. It's a craving.
I need to start by finding ways to dispel my anger in those moments where it feels unbearable. Any advice would be appreciated (especially because the air is currently Hella Hazardous where I'm at so my go-to option of running my feelings out is not a possibility).

[July - September 2013]
The next 3 months were rather boring. We didn't have the money to blow out in town, so we spent most of our time either swimming in the community pool, or we were in the house playing Borderlands or watching Netflix. This was when Devon and I binge watched the full series of Breaking Bad, Weeds, and Sons of Anarchy. Aside from that, nothing too eventful occurred...until around mid September when we were evicted from our townhome.
Peanut remained high strung after we introduced the kitten. He went from being a sweet, snuggly kitten himself to being a 6 month grumpy old man. He was miserable and insisted everyone around him should be miserable as well.
He wasn't outright mean though. He never hissed or growled after the first week of the kitten's presence. He just started doing spiteful shit. He would hide in the shadows and attack our ankles when we'd walk by, or he would lay camouflaged on the hardwood floor in the middle of the night, ready to attack any unsuspecting victim passing him on their way to the bathroom.
One day, as I stood at the top of the stairs, I spotted Peanut downstairs. He was lounging on the back of the couch, sunbathing in the window, just minding his own business.
I'm not sure what came over me, but I excitedly yelled out "PEANUT!!" while running full speed down the stairs to pet him.
Well, that fucking spooked him, to say the least. I'm pretty sure he interrupted that excessive eagerness as me trying to murder him. One moment he was on the back of the couch; the next moment he was outside.
I didn't even know that was an option.
Not surprising considering the rest of the house was cheaply constructed out of paper mache and chewed bubble gum, but my husband's cat smashed out our fucking window. How.
I opened the front door to recover our poor, scared, evil baby kitty. I don't think he even knew how the fuck he had just teleported into the front yard either.
I cuddled him in my arms and apologized to him profusely for being so terrifying. When I brought him inside, I inspected his fur for any loose glass. He was unscratched and unharmed, thankfully, but I'm sure his adrenaline was through the roof.
Considering our account was still in the negative, we couldn't afford to fix the window immediately. Our solution was to tape up a few free boxes from our local liquor store. It was a good enough fix to block out the Mississippi heat, but it wasn't exactly aesthetically pleasing for curb appeal.
When we moved into the townhome originally, we decided to pinch a few pennies by simply not disclosing that we had a cat and a dog...and now another cat. You'd never suspect us to have pets though: no ammonia odor, no fucked up blinds, no chewed or clawed furniture. We've always kept a clean house, we just happened to have a smashed window bandaged with a few flattened out cardboard boxes and tape. No big deal.
A few days after the window incident, there was a knock on the door. It was the head of management. He came to congratulate us on having the fanciest looking house on the block, and he wanted me to help him remodel the rest of the houses to follow suit.
Lol nah, of course not. He was actually there for a "maintenance check"
...but he was actually, actually there because he wanted to know how the hell we broke that window. To avoid being penalized with a pet deposit, I tried to come up with a quick lie on the spot, but before I could answer, Peanut decided to greet the angry landlord by walking circles around his legs, covering the man's black slacks in his trademark orange fur. Angry landlord was not a fan of cats...or of me.
He wanted to take "a look around".
Why. He already saw the cat. Just increase my rent and go home already.
Nope.
As he made his way through the living room, headed toward the kitchen to "check the appliances", he was greeted by another eager fuzzball who popped out to surprise him from behind the counter.
Hello, Punk. I'm so glad you decided to make an appearance.
Now, all the commotion has Chloe's attention. Why not introduce her as well?
We were busted. Game over.
Angry landlord expected back pay from us for all the months we had skipped out on the pet deposit, but since we couldn't pay it, he told us we could not continue our lease after the end of the month...only two weeks away.

Just from an etymological standpoint, it's quite ingenious.. or did some Liquor guild/association decide that "Shop Open" will surreptitiously mean a Liquor Store?! It's popular in Meghalaya as well.

Ok y'all, I have been trying this whole week not to live in anticipatory anxiety about flying on Sunday morning. I think I've been doing okay but that's because I have literally just been sleeping and eating from sun up to sun down. Now I'm about to pack and the last thing I want to do is wear a bikini for 6 days 😝 and I'm starting to feel anxious about the flight.
Normally I would be popping Xanax already and planning on showing up for my flight at least 3 shots deep which made me "comfortable" enough to not freak out (but also made me need to basically be chaperoned thru my layover and lose my first day from needing to sleep and puke 🤢)
I haven't taken Xanax since 2020 (& it's too late to ask the doc for some anyways even tho I really do not want to take that shit). I haven't had a drink since Thanksgiving (and think I have actually done pretty well dealing with some serious stuff since then without making a trip to a liquor store 🙌) and I haven't smoked weed in justbover 2 months and would really like to stay the course there.
Aside from distracting myself with food and naps, does anyone have any tips for getting thru these next 4 days? I have a whole plan for dealing with the barrage of alcohol availability at the resort but it completely escaped me how big this pre-flight anxiety is bc I havent flown since 2018. It is seriously uncomfortable! I do have therapy today at 2 for the first time in 2 weeks bc she has had her own vacation so that should help ♡