I thought I’d better post as there were a few comments starting to appear which suggest I am not who I say I am. I guess we never really know who is behind each blog, but all I can say is that I am Annie, a 44 year old mum with 3 children, just blogging to try and help me on a sober path. Sure, I might seem stuck at the moment, but I’m not conducting some sort of social experiment to see who comments, and what they say; I am just writing, and reading, and trying to respond when I can.
Nothing sinister going on here.
It’s not working. I’ve already failed. Even though I felt such determination yesterday, and a real zest for what I wanted to do, it has all come to nothing. One good day of feeling positive and motivated has been followed by another day of triggers and allowing triggers to get the better of me.
I don’t think I will ever be able to do this. I remember listening to a podcast about not being broken. Well, I am broken.
Feel free never to read my blog again. Because this story isn’t good, or inspirational, it’s just useless.
Towards midnight last night, I was scrabbling around for last bits of wine, sherry, even a slurp of Baileys. Yuck. It was desperate. I was a crazy lady, searching for drink in the back of cupboards. I woke up this morning dead inside, knowing that I had had enough. No more.
It can’t happen after the holiday; it can’t happen tomorrow. I have to start today. I can feel the whole thing escalating, I feel out of control and I want to seize this opportunity and go with it, make the right choice. I texted my husband: ‘I really want to stop drinking. Please can you help me’. He replied: ‘Ok’.
I need to summon up all my strength.
I am going to do this.
My path is meandering at the moment. Thank you for all your comments and I am sorry I haven’t replied to them. I’m in such a muddle: one minute I think I just need to stop making such a fuss, get on with my life and stop obsessing about drinking/not drinking; the next minute I am determined to be sober, I start making plans, put on my bracelet, contact Belle and my other sober supports…and then I go back to that other way of thinking.
Doing the 100 day challenge – actually doing it – would help me get a sense of perspective at least, as I haven’t yet been able to get a good sense of how it feels not to be drinking for any length of time. Moderation is not an option, so if I decide to keep drinking, it is in the knowledge that I will drink too much, that I will feel regret, that I will not be looking after myself properly; but don’t people do this all the time, and not worry about it? Do I overthink everything, worry about everything?
I need to decide what to do; I can’t keep fluctuating like this. And while I think about it, I fear my blog will be rambling and rubbish. So if you don’t see me here, know that I am still wandering along the path, but that I’m a bit lost.
Midday. Thank you for all your support. I can’t shake off the feeling that I am sitting, watching myself, as though there are two completely separate Annies. Somebody referred to this idea yesterday: the alcohol voice trying desperately to persuade the sober voice to succumb.
Yesterday morning, I looked up a meeting, wrote down the address in my diary and determined to go. But I never went. I was too frightened, I guess because I feel as though going will throw me down a path which I can’t turn back from. Not a good reason, I know. By mid-afternoon, my alcohol voice told me to buy more drink, which I then drank that evening. And the saddest moment was when my husband came home, I got him to crack open a bottle and I then watched as he drank lots of it too, and I saw how tired and disheartened he became.
I haven’t yet had an honest conversation with him. Enlisting his help will throw me down the path I mentioned in the previous paragraph. I haven’t had an honest conversation with myself; I think this blog displays my lack of progress in this area.
And I am worried that even if I start from Day 1 again today, that I won’t be able to sustain it through the holiday which is rapidly approaching, and should I wait until I get back from that? But I’m always waiting.
I know I’m in a downward spiral. It’s so strange, because there were parts of today when I felt really confident about being ok around drinking, about going back to my drinking life. But I have this deep, gnawing feeling, this sense of unease. Things are not ok, I am not ok.
I will write again tomorrow. I am going to bed now.
A bit of wine. Not a lot, but enough. I gave into the craving. I just can’t do this; it seems utterly hopeless. I was like a mad woman tonight, rushing between the stove, my computer, the wine, the blog. It’s such a mess. The wine tasted bitter. And then when I saw the messages of support and encouragement from you all, I felt like a fraud. I considered not saying anything, just carrying on into Day 4 – no one would know. But then I’d be lying to everyone, not just to myself.
Second post today. The dreaded 5.40pm and I’m wading through that treacle I mentioned this morning. I’ve already texted my husband suggesting wine (he avoided responding); I’ve debated going out to buy wine as we only have ancient vintages in the house which I think my husband is keeping until 2020; I don’t know what to do. Well, I know what I should do, but I don’t want to do it: I should do anything but drink, but I want to drink. In my past sober attempts, I don’t remember feeling this desperate.
The weekend beckons. I am obsessing about drinking, about sobriety, about the sober world. I feel as though I can’t get on with my life, that I can’t think of anything else. I don’t want to be this person, I don’t want to have to think about these things.
Aaaarrrrggggghh is the only way I can put it at the moment. Aaaaaarrrrrgghh (again).
Yesterday afternoon, at 5.24pm, I texted my husband and said I’d like wine that evening. I was experiencing an intense craving, I was absolutely sure I would drink some wine, and I felt as though it was the most important thing for me to do. He replied saying he didn’t think it was a good idea mid-week. I then made a chicken pie, took the children to their piano lessons, and by the time I got home, the craving had passed. But I was amazed at how powerful it was. I literally had to squash it down, force myself to do something else until it went away.
I know these cravings are normal. And I know I keep putting myself back into the cravings pit because every time I do a few sober days and then drink again, the cravings return with a vengeance. So I must must must push through these early days.
Sitting listening to the children’s piano scales, I imagined what would happen if I drank that wine. I imagined my husband not joining in, and my drinking a few glasses and being back at Day 1. I imagined gulping the wine, hiding how much I’d had, feeling grim.
Day 3 today. It’s like wading through treacle. My small step forward is that I have made an appointment to go and see someone about this; it’s not for a while, but it’s in the diary.
So many Day 2s. Here I am again. It is a kind of torture, putting myself through these early days. I read and believe comments from people who write about the sober wonders on the other side, but I just can’t see them because I never get that far. It’s utterly exhausting.
Yesterday, I watched a film called ‘Lipstick and Liquor’, the director of which had been on last Sunday’s episode of The Bubble Hour. I would recommend it. A documentary interviewing four amazing ladies who are now in recovery, it is sober viewing in all senses of the word. I found myself crying in places, and I try never to cry. I dig my nails into the palms of my hands to stop myself; I once read somewhere that that stops you crying. The stories of their descent into alcoholism and their climbing out were breathtaking.
I do feel lonely in my struggle. I am still hesitant about going to a meeting. I’m putting my sober tools in place – I’ve just ordered a mass of AF drinks – but I do feel weary, so so weary.