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.