Through the mill

I often read blog posts where people bemoan Day 3; and it is true that the Day 3 feeling is a tricky one. You’re feeling better from not having drunk any alcohol for a few days, and the scratchy voice starts picking at your resolve. I am so glad that I have the addiction counselling session in place, as it makes the whole sober thing seem much more real than before.

That said, I still find the day to day stuff quite difficult to manage, even after a year of stop/starts, or perhaps particularly because of that pattern. Tomorrow evening I am going to be here with my two daughters, while my husband and son are out. Old Annie would stock up on miniature bottles of fizz or wine – small bottles made me feel I had some sort of control, though I ended up drinking loads of them – and proceed to guzzle them as I wanted to, without my husband realising. New(ish) Annie needs a concrete plan of action to get through tomorrow evening, and I’ve already decided on an almost timetabled series of tasks. I’m going to a meeting earlier that day as well.

So, as the familiar feeling that I am overreacting starts to nudge at my sober intent, I am forcing myself to remember in detail the last time I drank. Three days ago, on a supposedly dry night (that my husband and I had agreed on), I opened a bottle of wine, hid a glass in a cupboard, and drank the wine through part of the evening. When that became difficult – and for the first time ever – I poured some into a small mug and took it upstairs with me to read to the children, disguising it as camomile tea.

Writing that down is important for me.