I am just back from my second session with the counsellor. I must have cancelled and rebooked about 20 times in the last week. The self-doubt culminated in my drinking an entire bottle of wine, and some other stuff, all by myself last night.
Accepting that I am an addict, that I can’t control my drinking, and that dreams of drinking normally are long gone, is incredibly hard. It must seem obvious to everyone who reads my blog, and it is obvious to me – but I was explaining to the therapist today how difficult it is when the drink calls me, and that however rational I am all day, the craving can strike and I talk myself out of any sort of recovery plan.
It is hard to accept. But I do accept it. He wants me to go to at least 3 AA meetings a week, and he has given me various things to read about addiction, and some strategies to help me cope with the next few days.
I have avoided going to therapy for a long time. I find it so very painful talking about my brother (who died when I was 21), and of course this came up today in the therapy session. I could hardly bear to talk about it; I felt so desolate. But the unraveling of the web I have woven round myself, to protect myself and my family, is part of the process, I fear. And I hope that I can find a way out of my sadness, and give up drinking for good.