I remember the day I decided to stop drinking. I honestly thought it might be a little challenging, maybe even uncomfortable, but it never genuinely crossed my mind that it was going to be difficult—near impossible. I still believed I was a normal drinker and normal drinkers can stop. Yes, stop.
I couldn’t stop. I said I wanted to, but still, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
I’m still not sure how it happened but it was as if someone else was opening the wine bottle, pouring the wine in the glass. (Let’s rephrase that, hastily opening the bottle and drinking warm chardonnay from an empty coffee mug in my bedroom closet. That’s the type of classy I drinker I had become.)
I remember thinking, Who is in my body? Who’s opening this? I thought I was quitting? Why am I doing this? I don’t want to do this, is there someone else here besides me? What the [bleep] is happening to me? Maybe I should stop tomorrow, I’ll stop tomorrow when I get this all figured out. I’ll drink and do some journaling, I’ll try and figure this out. After all, if I was an alcoholic I wouldn’t be trying to figure it out. Right? Right.
That was a Thursday. Two weeks later on a Sunday I was still trying to stop (really, really, really trying) every night and I could not. I observed it too. I was determined to figure it out. There must be a loop hole in here somewhere. Every day the same ‘girl’ came to visit around noon time. She usually showed up after I’d eaten breakfast, kids were off to school, and I’d gotten in a run. Every day she told me how well I was doing and how much I deserved to drink. Every day she reminded me how hard my life was with these people (aka, my family). Every day she wiggled her way back into me and the two of us waited for 5 o’clock to arrive.
I just tried to be okay with it/her, because I did not know how to stop it/her.
But something different happened that Monday morning. I got to my journal and I got to my phone, before my ‘girl’ got to me. I called the hospital for an inquiry-only conversation. When the woman asked whom I was calling for I was planning to tell her it was for another employee.
“It’s for me,” flew from my mouth.
Whenever I have daydreamed how great a drink would feel, I think of this moment. I am an alcoholic. Whatever that is, I’m it.
I didn’t drink alcohol in moderation. If I could have—I would have. I couldn’t.
I don’t choose to try drinking anymore. I tried it for a long time. It didn’t work.
There is no secret to sobriety.
The people that choose it, have it.
It’s for the taking.
No one was handing me sobriety.
I had to step up and take it.
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Blogger update: Due to my increased work schedule with coaching and ThetaHealing™ I will no longer be blogging weekly but semi-monthly/monthly.
Here are some of my favorite blogs for fellowship:
The Miracle is Around the Corner
Tired of Thinking About Drinking/100 Day Challenge
