Despite opening and closing my blog like a madwoman, I still think it is important for me to write here. I literally don’t know why I keep closing my blog. It is all tied up with fear, but fear of what? Fear, perhaps, that by writing I am committing myself to a process which I keep slipping up on, and that the slipping up makes the writing null and void? Trying to be perfect, and finding that my constant relapses don’t fit into the version of perfect I’m trying to reach?
Anyway, the fact that I keep coming back here suggests I need it, and certainly I find the writing therapeutic, and the comments really helpful. I know it must be really frustrating to check in here and find the blog closed, so I’M GOING TO TRY AND STOP DOING THAT.
This week has been day one after day one. I’ve been completely hopeless. A bit like the blog closing, I shut out offers of help. I was supposed to be ringing my sponsor if I felt the urge to drink; but instead, I would turn the phone off and drink on my own. There’s that fear again.
All buoyancy seems to have leached out of me. Time to wake up and get that energy back before it is too late. Another day one, then, another day one.
Monday afternoon, and I’m back on Day One again. But I had a good chat with my wise, lovely sponsor this morning, and she feels that despite my set-backs, the desire to stop drinking is there, and I need to believe in that.
Part of my problem is that as soon as I encounter any blips in my sober attempts, I immediately give up trying, and go crashing back to the start. This can delay my next attempt by many days or weeks. It is never going to be perfect, and while this troubles and upsets me, I need to accept it, and keep searching.
So, onwards I go.
Back on Day one.
One day, I will write a post that is headed ‘100 days’, and I will rejoice.
In the meantime, I am still here, still struggling, but still determined.
I am sorry not to be responding to the comments at the moment. I am grateful for them.
Day 4, the first time in a long time that I have got this far. I still feel physically horrible, and a sort of depression hangs over me. I can’t seem to shake it off. My husband came back home last night, having been away for a few days – I had missed him terribly, but I still found myself starting an argument, and being terribly irritated and ratty. I hope he can forgive me. I told him about the sponsor; he was a bit bemused, I think, but he supports me.
My numb fingertips and – oddly – slightly numb nose tip are worrying me. What damage have I done?
Thank you for your kind comments yesterday. I must admit, I am crawling along rather, feeling pretty rubbish. But what did I expect? I had a severe wobble yesterday afternoon – the fear is palpable. It’s ridiculous. I remember Sober Mummy once saying to me, ‘What are you afraid of?’ And I can’t really say; I don’t know exactly. I guess, a fear of living in a different way, of not being able to do what I want, of stopping myself picking up a glass. It’s stupid, I know. Ultimately, I want to find a new freedom where I don’t think in this way. But meanwhile, it is a painful, slow process. It hurts me to look back at this blog, and to see the hope diminish month by month.
The good thing is that I am still in touch with my sponsor every day, and not drinking, and writing here, and inching my way through.
And I hope the aches will pass.
My second day, and I have aches in my shoulder and back; I feel generally wrung out. But I am so glad I’ve now got a sponsor. She contacts me several times a day, and I feel as though I can’t slip away and retreat, which is good. I’ve been hiding for such a long time, trying to succeed but giving up within a day or two. Now, when I feel like running away, I have to pick up the phone and ring her.
It was strange how it happened. I had been in touch with this lady off and on for several months – she would send me texts every now and then, and didn’t forget about me – but I hadn’t thought about asking her to help me more than that. Then suddenly, this weekend, up to my neck in misery and wine, I reached for my phone and asked her for help.
These early days are so hard; and I’ve been here so many times before. I feel tired, and very very low.
I have been wandering around in the dark for so long, I needed to do something about it. I have asked someone to be my sponsor! She and I are meeting this week, and in the meantime she has given me some small, simple but crucial tasks to do. I feel a huge sense of excitiement that I may – just may – be able to find my way out at last. The main thing is that I know I need help. I thought I could do it on my own, but I kept finding myself back at the start; and increasingly, I was even further back than the start.
It is incredible to me how certain I was that I had this thing under control. Even when I saw that I could barely do one whole day sober, I was still convinced that I would somehow be able to reach moderation nirvana. I would sit drinking wine, reading books about sobriety, and push away the knowledge that I was damaging my mind and my body.
Well, it’s a new start for me.
Sad, but not finished.
Determined to do this. I won’t stop trying. I have sunk so low, and I’m scrabbling around down here. But I want this, and I’m not going to disappear.
I am sorry I’ve been absent.
I am so weary of my attempts to stop drinking. But I am not giving up the struggle; I am determined to keep trying.
I feel physically exhausted. I look down at myself, and am sad to see this person thrashing around in the dark.
I am trying to keep it in the day. Looking beyond that has meant certain failure in the past few weeks. It has got to the stage where I feel better when I do drink, and that worries me a lot.
No one really knows. I think I’m doing a good job of hiding it, and on the outside, I think I look competent and cheerful. But you know; you all know what is happening.
I begin again today.