I’ve stopped counting days. To be honest, I gave up on it a while ago. I had too many ups and downs. I’d go six without drinking then on day seven, would give in to a craving. I’d start over and make it another six, then cave on a dinner out. The Sober app I was using was starting to dictate my life, my moods, my everyday mindset. This book I read recently said to NOT count days, that it’s more harmful than good. After all, will you be keeping track of your drinking for the rest of your life? Tallying up “wins” and “losses?” Patting yourself on the back, then punching yourself in the face? How exhausting! And how… demoralizing.
So, here goes. New strategy.
Blogging the days as they come. Examining my beliefs. Working through my shit. Asking myself questions and writing down the answers.
Today, I did something good.
I just beat back a craving to use my lunch hour at the tail end of my workday. Rob is out of town until tomorrow morning, has been out of town since Tuesday, and I pictured going out to dinner tonight with the kids to some place that serves a strong Long Island Iced Tea. But. I fought it off. I decided to use my lunch hour instead to go home late afternoon and get a jumpstart on cleaning for my son’s friends who are spending the night tomorrow night. I’ll be busy using that forty minutes, wiping down the bathrooms, vacuuming, dusting, etc. I’ll check in on the kids and head right back to work. Done. No drinking. Tonight? I’ll fix us dinner–baked potatoes and a salad–and I’ll spend the rest of the evening watching a movie with the kids. I’ll hop in bed shortly after 9:00 PM, and I’ll read until I fall asleep. Phew.
What I always have to picture is what would happen if I DID succumb to that craving. Inevitably, one drink would turn into two or three. I would MAYBE feel an initial endorphin rush, maybe have a little bit of energy and a “feel-good feeling,” but it would soon go away (within the hour), and I would spend the rest of my night chasing it. Instead of being happy and relaxed, I would end up being just… dull and out of it. I’d probably snap at the kids at some point. I’d be sooooooooooooo disappointed in myself. So much so, I’d most likely take a Lunesta to sleep. And in the middle of the night when I woke up to use the restroom? I’d feel that tell-tale pounding heart, have the beginnings of a headache, have a horrible taste in my mouth, might’ve sweat through the sheets, and my stomach would be a mess. I’d keep myself up with racing thoughts and indigestion problems, which I’d have to deal with until the alarm went off in the morning. I’d then start my Friday (my weekend), tired, slightly hungover, and lacking the energy to want to put in a good workout. It would be a struggle to watch the kids’ sporting events in the hot sun. I’d be irritable, and in no way, looking forward to my son’s friends coming over at night. Everything would feel like a chore.
On top of it, I’d be spending money out at a restaurant before we’ve even had our weekend (when we’ll most likely be going out on Saturday). I’d be eating and drinking a ton of calories right before my Arizona trip, where I’ll be in a bikini in front of my work crew.
So yes, best to picture the reality of having that one drink. Yeah. No thanks.