You would think I’d be getting used to this, but Sunday evening and the cravings and doubts are worse than ever. It’s incredible. I made it through Friday night, Saturday night…but instead of feeling elated and proud, I feel oddly frightened, as though by doing this, by committing to it in some way, I am going down a path where I can’t turn back.
In short, I feel rubbish. I’m sitting at my desk, trying to work, as I have a lot to get done, and my mind is all over the place. I can’t concentrate.
TAKE A DEEP BREATH.
I don’t drink. I don’t drink. I don’t drink. So why do I want a huge glass of wine? Why do I want to hide from myself like this?