I’ve always thought I’m a competent person. I’m pretty organised, efficient, I get things done. My life is blessed. And yet I have this problem: I drink too much. When I first started exploring ways to get sober, I saw it as a challenge, something I could master, and I enjoyed the daily routine of blogging, reading round the subject, buying alcohol-free drinks and candles. I had some successful days and weeks, and began to feel the pleasures of living in a better, healthier way. Then I got bored, or tired, or fed up and started drinking again; and I found that when I tried to pick up the sober path where I’d wandered off, I had lost my way, and couldn’t get the same motivation.
This thing is bigger than me. It’s not something I can solve by blogging, reading, or buying bath oil. It is so much bigger than I ever imagined, and I’m being crushed under its weight.
Even with a feeling of real determination, with the strength of your supportive comments, with an arsenal of alcohol-free drinks, a squeaky clean plan of action of how I was going to fill my evening…I ended up drinking. And it took hold of me and swung me around as though I was nothing, nothing at all.
The harsh truth is staring at me, snarling at my pathetic attempts to stay on top of sobriety. I cannot control this, not on my own.
Dragging my feet on Day 2. I’ve had more of a spring in my step in past attempts and feel weighed down by the tasks I set myself at the moment. But I know, I absolutely know, I’ve got to push through these first few days and get some ‘traction’ (as Belle suggested – it’s a good word).
I am pleased to have got to Day 2, as I have been drinking daily for a couple of weeks. But tonight my husband is away, and I can feel all the danger signs swarming around me. I’m on a train at the moment, and had been thinking about getting some wine on my way home, but looked down at my phone to discover a message from someone I’d met in a meeting. The timing was spookily apt, a sign from somewhere that I should go straight home and get on with some sensible tasks.
But I must admit, I do feel alone.
Continue reading Day 2 dragging
I woke at 5am, worrying. Things haven’t been going well. We were on holiday last week, and every evening we drank wine, possibly less than normal but I went to bed feeling tired and argued unnecessarily with my husband. Back home, I have begun to sneak drinks again. And it is the sneaking drinks which is the biggest red flag of all, that and the deep-seated knowledge that I’m never going to fix this unless I stop drinking.
The writing is on the wall. I know it is, so why is it so hard to accept, and to take the action I know I so desperately need to take? It’s as though the alcohol voice is trying every last ditch attempt to keep me stuck. It masquerades as a voice of reason, endlessly promoting moderation, when I haven’t been able to moderate for years now. I never can, and I never will.
So, back to 5am, and through my worry I formed a plan. I’ve made many plans in the past, but I’m still going to try again. And I’m enlisting all the help I can.
It’s a murky, foggy day here in the UK. Unpromising in some ways, but I’m still determined to carry on along my path. The process of writing here, of sharing this, helps me.