Here I am again.

Here I am again writing about Day 1.  When, if I had listened to the alarm bells going off in my head last night, I should have done two important things:  Stayed home from going out to dinner with my husband and his friend, and written here in this blog from my cozy bed, safely hidden from temptation.  But I didn’t do those things.  And then the friend brought a bottle of wine to share.  And then.

Today would have been two weeks, and now it’s Day 1.  I have too many Day 1s to count at this point.  I’m ashamed to even be writing again here, since I had meant to get right back into blogging daily, and I certainly meant to respond to all of your wonderful, encouraging comments from last time, two weeks ago.  But there was something that kept me from opening my blog back up, for some reason.  I wrote, I recommitted, in fact I felt SO, very committed.  Yesterday we took our dog to a three week boarding school to help her overcome some issues (long story for another time), and I was so sad.  I was so worried she would feel abandoned.  When we left her there, she tried to follow us and then looked at me like, “Mom, I’m going with you, right?”  Okay I know what you’re thinking… she’s just a dog.  But she is a very special dog.  Quite emotional and attached to us.   We both teared up when we left her and I thought, damn, I need a glass of wine.

I knew!  I knew that I was in a different state of mind last night after that and that I should stay home and away from temptation.  I knew that I only have myself to rely on and that my willpower is shit when I feel I’m going to be missing out.  So I was both emotional and hungry.  Turns out that’s not such a good combo, as the “one or two” glasses of wine I planned on turned into seven or eight.  And a weird, icky, drunken misunderstanding with my husband.  And me on the couch.  And waking up at 2:00 a.m., sweaty, thirsty, achy, paranoid, full of regret, nauseated, short of breath… yeah.

All you people who have time under your belt?  I’m writing this for you.  Don’t come back here.  It’s not worth it.  I’m coming up on almost a year full of Day 1s.  I can’t believe that’s true, but it is.  If I had stuck with my original plan, I would be damn close to celebrating a sober birthday soon.  Instead, I’m suffering another day of endless, mind racing questions about whether I really have a problem.  HELLOOOO?!?!?!  No one who doesn’t have a problem spends a year unsuccessfully trying over and over again to quit.  Right?  Right.

All I can say is, every time I post here, I get such encouragement despite my failures, that I plan to stay more connected.  I am at the point where I’m really wondering if I need additional, person-to-person support as well.  Being anonymous makes it pretty easy to give up, you know?  Being in person would seem more real.  Yet the idea of AA turns me off so much.  Considering a therapist perhaps.  I don’t know.

In the meantime, I’ll be figuring it out right here, in writing.  First item on my to-do list:  stop lying to myself.

Despite today’s hell, it’s good to be back with my sober intentions and blogging than it would be to continue drinking.

xo

GOTL

Still learning

Today I’m on day 4.  At this point I feel a bit sick of writing the same, tired story.  Am I or aren’t I?  Can I or can’t I?  Should I even bother, or shouldn’t I?  It’s really the questioning part of me that lands me back in the same place, starting over.  I inevitably get tired of thinking about not drinking, of the restrictive feeling of it, and give in.  I don’t want to be a non-drinker.  I just don’t want to keep ending up feeling like crap and arguing with my husband and losing motivation to run my business and all the other negative effects that seem to befall me when I drink these days.

But oh, the grief.  I feel such a deep, intense grief when I think about a life without wine, without that carefree feeling that has carried me through so many hard times, and given me so many good times.  It’s so easy to overlook the negative.  When I’ve quit before, when I started this process, I at least felt a strong motivation to be sober, to live sober.  I imagined drastic improvements in my life, my mood, my creativity, and my energy level.  And all those things are true I suppose, but more and more I’ve come to realize that improving all that stuff also takes work, it’s not magic.  And that some of those improvements, when I work at them, remain with me even in my times of drinking.  But each time, it tends to escalate, and inevitably I feel so low during the day.  Run down.  Exhausted.  My self-confidence run completely dry.  No inspiration to write, work, or do laundry, or exercise.  I’m grouchy.  Snappy with my husband.  Negative.  How is it that all those negative effects seem worth it in moments like these?

Here it is, wine-o-clock.  My husband’s not home and I’m about to start dinner.  This is when.  The longing is so great.  The voice is in my head telling me that it’s no big deal.  That I have the right to relax.  That I won’t drink too much.  That it’s been a few days and I deserve it.  I haven’t been fighting that voice very hard lately, not wanting to have to fight.  Not wanting to have to deal with the effort.  But here I am, again.  Again.  Again. Trying to give it a chance.  I suppose, if I really want to give this a try, then I have to TRY.  Like, now.  During these rough moments when I just want to have my private glass(es) of wine while cooking and unwind.  To forget the awfulness of the lunch conversation I had with my mother.  To lift my spirits.  To lift the loneliness of working from home.  To distract me.

So I’m here, learning.  Writing.  Reaching out.  Again.  Tired of hearing my own story repeat itself, but not too tired to try again.