Things are not going well. My search for balance is proving difficult. I had had a couple of sober days following my trip away, but last night we went to a dinner party and everything fell apart. I assumed my husband would drive – I didn’t even discuss it with him; I just made it part of my plan to let him drive. On arrival, I was handed a glass of prosecco, and after that I didn’t pay attention to how much I was drinking. All my strategies evaporated: the water in between, just one glass of whatever I’m offered; I don’t even think I intended to be careful, I just didn’t think at all. I began to lose track of what I was saying, and the directness which I normally value in myself became crassness, insensitivity. When everybody had coffee/tea at the end, I was the only one who carried on with my wine. And it was this which my husband commented on when we got home; and it was then that I turned his comment into a tirade about how I hated his commenting on my drinking, that I didn’t want him to control me. This is not you talking, he said. This is the drinking Annie talking. I wouldn’t leave it; I wrestled away, goading him, trying to get him to talk to me about it, when all he wanted to do was go to sleep. I even blamed him for what had happened, and accused him of not supporting me; I suggested we throw away all the drink in the house, and that he give up too, as it was too hard for me to do it by myself.
And now it is the morning, and I am ashamed of my ranting last night. I feel stuck. The sober path seems out of reach; sobriety is suddenly terrifying. The alternative isn’t working. It sounds obvious when I write it, but yet I still feel stuck.