I was fine this morning, beginning a new week feeling good and on track with my sobriety. But within a few hours, I was planning my relapse. Here’s what happened. I joined some school mums for a trip to an art exhibition, really nice thing to do, and I’d been looking forward to it. Wandering round the exhibition on my own, listening to one of those audio guides, I found myself wishing that I was drinking again. Not just a fleeting thought, but a deep-seated thought. One or two of the pictures in the gallery were scenes which included someone holding a glass, images from a hundred years ago: elegant, civilised dining rooms, beautifully dressed women cradling tiny glasses of ruby liquid. It looked so enticing, so measured. It was a startling, unexpected trigger for me. I left the exhibition deep in thought: I wasn’t going to do my 100 days anymore, I wanted to be like the lady in the picture, elegant and civilised, I was going to ease myself away from the blog and drink little glasses of ruby liquid again.
These thoughts persisted through the afternoon. I texted my husband and told him I was going to drink again. Not today? he suggested. But once I got home, the sense of possible sabotage was waning, and I took the dog out, plugged myself into a sober audio and stopped. Well, I kept walking, but I stopped mentally sliding quite so fast.
And then a text arrived from my sober friend, asking how I was. I hung onto it, and immediately replied, admitting that I had slumped into a muddled thought process. Her kind suggestions reminded me that I was not alone. But I am frightened by today.