This is what I’m hoping will be the last bottle of wine I ever drink. It’s sitting on the counter now, 90% full, and it’s calling my name. I drank the other 10% last night. But lest you think “well that’s nothing at all,” that 10% of a bottle was after drinking another full one and 2/3 bottles before it. It was a Thursday night after a long, emotional week, and I was in that headspace of needing comfort and companionship. Red wine has always been so willing to step up for that.
I already know I have a problem with alcohol, but the fact that it sits there, calling for me to drink it — and there is so much chatter in my mind about what to do — should confront any notion that my relationship with alcohol really isn’t *that* bad. It is.
And the more I threaten to break up with red wine, the more it fights to keep our relationship strong. It’s a committed lover.
For years I’ve been trying to cut back — and I mean years. But I have come to the well-earned, rigorously-studied conclusion that moderation just doesn’t work for me. How many times have I said I’m stopping at two drinks(!) or taking a day or a few days off … and then there’s a special occasion, or a really hard day, or I’ll just be sad or lonely, and Pfffftttt!!! the proclamations and promises go right out the window.
God, how much money have I spent? How many days have I gone into work feeling (and looking) like sheit? How many late night texts have I sent, or Nordstrom shopping carts have I filled with wine coursing through my blood? How many mornings have I woken up with that sinking feeling and .. OH NO… remembering the buzzy-buzzed follies of the night before?
The last couple of months I’ve stepped up the effort: I’ve started naltrexone injections, which have definitely helped slow down the drinking and blunt the cravings. I’ve scaled back. Stopped sooner. Gotten more serious. Told friends and family alcohol isn’t working for me anymore. But clearly, it’s not enough. If I can drink two bottles of wine that really don’t even taste or feel awesome anymore (thanks to the drug), there’s a lot more work to do. More change is needed.
And this is what it’s come to. As they say, the insides don’t match the outsides right now. My life looks pretty good from the outside — I have a good job, good friends, a wonderful apartment downtown with my dog, and I’m very active. Engaged. No one would look at me and think “she has a problem.” But my insides are a mess.
And so I drink.
Today is Day One. There has to be a final day one and this random Friday in November… is… it.
I just poured the wine down the sink. I don’t drink anymore.
And the voices are quieted. For now. And I’m looking forward to experiencing all the good things I read about from people who have quit, even though I get it won’t be easy.
Here’s to today. And tomorrow.