It’s past midnight and I’m still not in bed. My husband is still away. I had a good sober plan today – I was going to pick my daughter up from her friend’s at 10pm, a good way not to drink. But as the day went on, I rearranged it so that she would be dropped home by someone else.
This meant that – yet again – I had wine. After a while, disgusted with myself, I stopped drinking it and poured it away down the sink.
I wanted to lie, and to say I was on day 2 tomorrow. But whether it is day 1, 2 or 50, I just can’t get a grip on this; and every time I fail to get a grip – and that happens more and more frequently – I hope that I am heading towards a place where I succeed. Because I can’t go on like this.