How I Overcame Alcohol Dependency

One chapter at a time.
Each week I am posting a chapter from my book “Licking Honey Off A Razor Blade.”

Here is the synopsis.

Why does an intelligent, independent forty-something woman fall heart-first for a whisky-drinking, unemployed, young hottie? To help him change, of course, but it turns out that she needs to help herself. In Valerie Grimes’ fictionalized memoir, “Licking Honey off a Razor Blade,” she tells an erotic but tragic tale about obsessive love, where projection predominates, and how she used hypnosis to rediscover her authentic self and stop her own alcohol dependency to become truly independent.

A classic tale of confession and psychic redemption.

Chapter One I’m Your Savior.

Sitting at Panera Bread on Lemmon Avenue, I looked up at what I remembered to be his window at the Avon apartment house next door.  It was 3:30 PM.  I recall thinking it was odd that I looked at my phone to check the time.  Later that day, checking email, I received a note from him at that same time. He said he hadn’t been sleeping and wanted my advice. Of course, I interpreted that as ‘sleep with me again.’ I replied ‘Hell Yes.’ We started up again.

The night I first met him I was in tigress mode. He was outside of the networking event pacing back and forth. His phone to his ear and mouth moving, engaged in an apparent heated discussion. It was kind of a turn-on as he was the cocky type and knew he was hot. I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to get that one,’ as I smiled and walked past him, taking in a long slow deep breath and a little of his scent.

Inside I tried to focus on meeting business referral partners (which was why I was there). I began engaging in conversation and ordered vodka on the rocks. Every once in a while I would catch him watching me. I was enjoying the thought of him and his energy and the idea that I wanted some of it, but resigned to “let it go.”

Two drinks is my limit when at a business function, and I have to force myself to leave or I’ll order a third, I don’t have much willpower. And three drinks usually leads to a fourth. As I was walking out, there he was, and we were face to face. I was excited that I had an opportunity to talk to him. We chatted for a bit about what we did and why we were at the event. I was entranced by his smile, maybe even hypnotized. I didn’t want to let him go. It was one of those familiar feelings I can’t explain.

I knew I needed to know this man. So I blurted out, “Want to get out of here and get a drink?”

He said, “Yeah, follow me. I’m in the little red rental. My truck is in the shop.”

“Where do you live?” I asked.

“Lemmon Avenue.”

I thought to myself, ‘Cool, I love that part of Dallas.’

As I followed him in my car, I realized it was the first time in my life that I did something like that. I was 46 and was guessing he was in his early 30s.

It was a 30-minute drive, and there were times while I was following him that I should have just turn towards home, but I stayed behind that little red rental the entire time, following him into the underground parking garage, he took the first spot (jerk), and it took me a few minutes for me to find a spot. By the time I got out of my car he was standing beside me. It startled me.

“Get in and drive to my place. I’m no longer thirsty.”

I silently obeyed. We drove in silence the five minutes to his place and parked my car out in front of the apartment house along a very busy street. As we started to walk up to the main entrance, he lifted me over his shoulder and carried me up the outside metal staircase to his second floor apartment, both ends of my body dangling from the sudden shock.

The building was old, but in a cool historic way, a salmon colored stucco exterior that looked a little like something you would see in Florida. His was the last apartment on the right at the end of a long dimly lit hallway. He kept me on his shoulder while he fished his keys out of his tight front pocket, “Come on mother fucker,” he said to his keys. Then we were in the room lit only by the lights from the coffee shop next door. I noticed the window blinds were up. In front of the window he raised me over his head as if he had won the trophy (although I never considered myself that much of a prize).

He lowered me down to his waist and while still holding me kissed me hard. For the next several hours I was pulled and pushed, twisted and turned, all in an unexplainable way. By two AM I was energized and exhausted at the same time.

As I was leaving he said, “What’s your name again?”

“Valerie,” I said. “Yours?”

He replied, his voice muffled in the pillow, “Sal,” and turning his face toward me he finished, “Salvador, I’m your savior.”

I went back over to the bed, kissed him and said, “No you ain’t.”

“You’ll see.”

After that evening I was hooked. I became his lover for the next several months even though I couldn’t stand being with him for more than a few hours. The more time I spent with him, the more I realized he was very confrontational and disagreeable. So in a rare, clear and determined moment, I asked him ‘to never contact me again.’ I remember thinking, ‘Wow, what an experience, I’ve done that, now to move on to a meaningful and lasting relationship.’ But then, about six months later I got that email at the coffee shop.

What had shifted in me to even consider seeing him again was a sense that he could fill a need I had, although I was not consciously aware of this.

That need was disguised as sex, which was an exciting diversion from a relationship that was fizzling.

Later I realized my own internal conflict created my desire to be with him.  A part of me loved his brilliance, his charisma, and his potential. But part of me felt myself getting lost in him and when with him my energy would fade, so in an attempt to protect myself I would get mad and break up. During our two year run, I ended the relationship and when back into the relationship on a regular schedule. Each time convinced I was done.

But because of the transformation that was going to take place, I was subconsciously led to stay with him to allow the healing of the deep wounds I possessed, so we were always drawn back together, even though on the surface it made no sense to me or to my family and friends. And I wondered, what if my clients knew how messed up my relationship was, especially since many of them were coming to me for working through their own internal conflicts. After all I was a hypnotist and obstacle removal is my specialty.

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