I can’t believe that it has been more than six months since I’ve last posted. But then, it’s not too surprising considering this is meant to be a blog about drinking less and living more and I haven’t been doing that.
I just read my most recent post a few minutes ago, and I honestly don’t remember if I drank that night or not. I do know that I’ve had many many drinks since then. Some days I haven’t, some days I’ve stuck to one or two, and some days I’ve had too many to count.
I have so many things going on in my head, about my drinking, and I’m not sure where to begin. The holidays are finally over and I can’t help but think about how for the past four weeks, if not longer, I have been binge drinking daily, often starting at lunch. I’ve done some scary things, like come home from work in the middle of the day on a random Tuesday and have a couple of glasses with my lunch (I work at home in the afternoons, so I didn’t have to worry about going back to the office). I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. I’ve gained about five pounds, which is only upsetting because I’m already trying to lose 30. And I feel aged and unhealthy.
I know I’m not saying anything new, here. But even if I’m writing the same things over and over, it helps me comes to terms with what I am doing to myself.
Last night, I met up with a bunch of girls at a friend’s house. I love these women and respect them all. Some of us were drinking, some of us weren’t, but I got wasted. I woke up in the middle of the night panicking as usual about what I might have said or done, but mostly I felt embarrassed and ashamed. I remember mentioning at the party that one of my new year’s resolutions was to limit drinking to only three days a week. It only occurred to me when I was sober that people might find this horrifying, that three nights a week was excessive in itself. I also feel embarrassed because it feels lately every event, whether a casual outing with the girls or television on the couch with our neighbours, has become a “bottle of wine or more” event. I can’t blame the people I’m with, my environment, or the situation. The only common denominator is me: I am the one drinking at every opportunity and often I am drinking the most. I shudder to think what my friends must think of me, whether or not they’ve discussed if I have a problem, what comments might have been made.
In December I decided that beginning January 4, I was going to go on a detox. Normally I like to do a full cleanse: no sugar, processed food, red meat, alcohol, caffeine, dairy, or gluten for a full week if not longer. But I’ve decided that for the next two weeks, the only thing I want to give up is junk food, sweets, and alcohol. I don’t care if I eat a full brick of cheese if it means that I don’t drink. I want to make it through the two weeks, then think about what I want to do next.
I feel like an idiot saying I’m on day 1, especially because I’m not someone who, right now, is thinking about giving up alcohol for 100 days or even forever. But I am on day 1, and I think it’s going to be hard. I think tomorrow is going to be harder. I am nervous about the little voice in my head convincing me to crack a bottle and enjoy a night on the couch, that “no one will know.”
I told my husband that if I couldn’t make it through the two weeks I was going to go to rehab. That scared us both. But I have an unhealthy relationship with alcohol and if I don’t make a change it’s only going to get worse. And so, here I am, making lists of things to do over the next two weeks to distract me, bookmarking blogs, assembling my “sober tools” and hoping desperately that I will succeed.