I am typing this post on my phone as I can’t wait to get home and to the iPad to write.
I hate Fridays.
In anticipation of my Friday doubts (and they have been swarming), and despite telling my husband that I wouldn’t go, I went to a meeting. My husband thinks that meetings are overdoing it, I think because he doesn’t want my story to be as ‘bad’ as the stories I hear in meetings. And in some ways, the things I heard today were ‘worse’ than what has so far happened to me. But at the core of these stories I could hear my own; although I may not have drunk 24 hours a day, or had my children taken away from me, the central notion is the same: that I have found alcohol to be in control of the centre of my life, and that’s why I’m trying to stop drinking.
The meeting was still scary. I immediately emailed my husband and tried to get out of my sober quest. I suggested we drink tonight and tomorrow, and then ‘go back to sobriety’ during the week. Fortunately, he knows my Friday methods – particularly as I had asked him to ignore them if I tried them – and his reply was NO GO.
I was disappointed, and relieved. But ultimately I know I cannot ask him to decide these things for me. It has to come from me; only I can do this.
So, am I glad I went to the meeting? I’m not sure, but I certainly need to be doing all I can to help myself, and I think meetings may be part of that process.
Now, onwards to Friday evening, and putting into practice some of those ideas you have kindly sent me.