Special Treatment

I have already written about the fact that I am a full-fledged, morning drinker alcoholic, which in many ways makes my life quite a bit more colorful than it would be otherwise. Although I usually feel guilty about most everything, I cannot seem to muster up any guilt about this. Alcoholism, like multiple sclerosis or dyslexia, is an illness that you may or may not be afflicted with. There really is no moral question involved. This said, getting help is entirely up to you. I have gotten help on various occasions but I have never really been able to maintain sobriety for very long. During my last treatment in 2008, I was feeling quite confident in my future, cavalier really. I was taking the reins. Taking charge. My life was up to me. Change yourself and change the world I guess.

My chosen place was a sixty patient outfit that placed a lot of hope into the idea that through sports, the suffering alcoholic could rid himself of this tiresome ailment. I liked that idea because I wanted to lose weight and I wasn’t too keen on the idea of sitting around talking endlessly about why we hurt and why we drink. Plus I love hiking and the Pyrenees are so beautiful. Every Wednesday, ten new people were admitted and ten others were released back into the real, cold world. After a frightening ride in a night train, a two-hour layover in Toulouse at 5AM and a kind search of my luggage for mouthwash or gin, it was nearly noon and I was officially in treatment. Anyone who has spent any time in France knows, at noon, you eat, no matter what. I was escorted into a sort of cafeteria, welcomed by hoots and cheers. I am six feet tall. There is never an adequate place to hide. Ever. Men seems more driven/obligated to seek treatment for alcoholism than women. I suppose they lose their driver’s license or their job or they get into trouble with the law. Women are sly. I am exceptionally sly. I was feeling quite ill and not too sly at all at that moment.

I was seated with nine other people, an odd miss-mash of humanity but linked by one common-denominator. We were all definitely alcoholics, huge and insignificant. All and nothing I guess. In six weeks, I lost seven kilos, started smoking again and had sex with two different men. Although there was not very much one-on-one analysis, I did have a psychiatrist that I met with once a week. I have to say, he was a snide fucker…sporting the appropriate goatee and glasses over which he could look down on you, a sick insect in a petri-dish. We got along quite well really. His wife was the staff psychologist and since I am bilingual, they decided to boost my ego through the translation of some sort of diagnostic questionnaire. It always comes in handy, a bilingual alcoholic.

Since this blog does have a disclaimer, which eliminates any hope of ever being Freshly Pressed or of ever being famous on Word Press, and since I like to write about sex…I think I will cleverly insert a small dose of sexuality into my detoxification. I was in treatment for the first time at the nubile age of 17, and for adolescents, the medical staff is all over this issue. Of sexuality I mean. They know that even if you were not an alcoholic, at that age, that is almost all you are thinking about anyways. Plus I suppose they don’t want to send home any pregnant, sober girls. Back then I fell in love twice but remained a virgin. I had some quite intense under-quilt petting episodes during video viewing and also in a van bringing us towards the city and AA meetings but my honor demeured intact. I have to say that when you are used to stuffing yourself with alcohol, you are definitely vulnerable. You are empty and quite open to the idea of being filled. By most anything. Anyone really. You are free-falling and you will grasp any projectile…

To be continued. (When I sober up. )


  1. Nick

    You are on top form. Yes, I know. It is serious. A problem being poured out to a sympathetic audience. I could not help laughing, though.
    Does that make me a Bad Person?

    • pivoine68

      It’s great being tall sometimes. You can gain ten pounds without anyone else noticing. You do have a hard time hiding though. I like hiding. 🙂

      Bisous my friend, drinker of wine and of love,

  2. Sandee

    I was also an alcoholic at 17. I stopped drinking after an inner-voice, that spoke almost as if outside of me, said, “You don’t have to continue living this way.” I think it was a higher state of consciousness. That’s when I sought help. Prior to that, though I had known almost immediately that I was an alcoholic, I had not been able to stop. My parents, friends, other family members all knew, but they could do nothing until I was ready. Good luck to you. Thank you for sharing this very personal part of your life.

    • pivoine68

      Oh Sandée! It is far less personal to me than the contents of my panty drawer that I’m usually throwing around here! Draws a smaller audience too! LOL! I got sober at 17 and it lasted four years. This last time, a year and a half. I never really feel that much better not drinking. I feel the same, except I want a drink. Thanks for being around.


      • Sandee

        I don’t feel better not drinking necessarily either. It’s just I was afraid I’d be hit by a car or pass out in Central Park again — last time I brought a guy home in a black out — turned out to be a nice guy, but what if — you know. If I could drink without passing out or putting myself at risk, I’d still be doing it! Cheers!

      • pivoine68

        I know! The blackout issue is a problem. It does not always happen to me but it does sometimes and I agree that it is terrifying. For some reason I am less afraid of that than of facing whatever my sober life might look like. If we meet, we can drink diet coke. I love diet coke! 🙂


  3. La Vierge

    I would love to meet you in real life. I think I could sit and listen to you all day long, sober or not. We are the same age, yet you are so much more “grown-up” than me. Anyway, reading you is the next best thing. You have and are something special. You just don’t see it.

    • pivoine68

      Really? I always have the feeling I’m some sort of overgrown teenager! Thank you for finding me special…I try to stick out whenever possible. Whenever I’m not trying to hide! Ha!


  4. Accidental Masturbator

    Whilst I don’t think my relationship with alcohol would constitute addiction (I can choose not to drink quite easily – I just prefer to drink), I find the suggestion that there may be parallels between alcoholism and sex very interesting. Especially in the context of my own irrepressible libido. I think it is best you and I do not ever meet – mutually assured destruction!

  5. Pingback: Special Treatment II | Alice Thierry
  6. rheath40

    When I started writing I was one year sober. When I was in the throes of being addicted to the written word, my alcoholism surfaced again and raged. I’ve separated from my husband and been going to AA for almost four months. I feel the best I have in 10 years. I still write like a motherfucker. I can now without a husband telling me to pay attention to him. I can throw myself into a story and write, write, write. My darling, I know where you are and pass no judgement. I worry is all. It must be the mother in me.

    Love, Renee

    • pivoine68

      Husbands get in the way of literary greatness far more often than alcoholism ever has. I get this odd feeling that drinking does free me from my own secrecy, it lets out what is already festering there anyways.

      I have done the AA thing and the sobriety thing too. I’m not comfortable with AA because I am not comfortable in most any group setting. I feel like I need to know how to say something that could express how much alcohol has probably already fucked up my life and how being sober has helped…but I don’t like speaking in public, I don’t know how to operate in that kind of setting. Plus I have never been all that happy sober either. I always hope some sexy guy will be keen on me and put a hot, throbbing end to any soul-searching I might plan on doing. There are sexy guys at AA meetings. I do however love to read, “How it Works,” it is engrained in my brain for all of my adult life.

      Thank you for caring and having maternal feelings. I care a lot but can’t seem to muster up an inkling of maternal instinct for anyone. I am empty.


      • rheath40

        My love this has nothing to do with being maternal. It has everything to do with being a caring person and being where you’ve been. If you need me, you know where to find me.

        I’ve learned that even though I’m an alcoholic, it’s not the sum of my parts. Every day I wake up with a chance to start over. To ask forgiveness of myself first and then the others in my life.

        Take care and know that I’m always thinking of you….


  7. Pingback: Alors, On Ne Boit Plus, On Baise? | Alice Thierry

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