I fool myself again and again. There is never a good time to stop drinking, and my planning, arranging and rearranging just shows me how powerless I am. Away at the moment, I had hoped that the distraction of a holiday would take my mind out of the loop, that I would miraculously feel free of the internal debate. And indeed, for the first day or two, I did feel a kind of freedom, where I was busy, and in a different environment than usual, and the habits changed. But now I’m back in the centre, and I feel it creeping in on me again. And I know, deep down, that this will NEVER change, that I will always be fighting it unless I take alcohol out of the equation completely, and work on GETTING SOBER.
Not when I get home. Not at the start of term. Not when I’m older, wiser, more miserable, more broken. Now.