I still associate drinking with a kind of hazy, romantic ideal; my art gallery debacle yesterday, which sent me into a spin, reminded me of this. Watching certain films, often old-fashioned ones, can also stir up the desire to drink. I need to separate this notion of elegance, sophistication and beauty from the reality of my drinking; the way in which I needed to drink daily, the amount I drank, what happened to me after I’d drunk too much: these things were in no way elegant or refined, but tawdry and sad. So why the pull? Why am I so easily seduced by the IDEA of the drink?
Meanwhile, it’s Day 12. I’m still here, and I’m so grateful for all your support. But I’m still finding it really difficult.