Am all moved into my house. Still plenty of boxes to unpack, and I need to swap one washing machine for another, but I’m here. And, it’s been as hard as I thought it might be. (the drinking) Actually, I think it may be harder. The last 2 nights have been ridiculously difficult. I’m having a hard time convincing myself NOT to drink. I have no good reasons. The “I’m at 69 days, it’s foolish to quit now” and the “I will regret this tomorrow and beat myself up for giving in” talks were worthless. I hate the fact that I can’t drink. It really makes me mad and that’s what I’ve been fighting with.
Last night I almost gave it up for good. I wanted to go out to eat, or should I say drink (with a side of dinner). So, I put my fish back in the refrigerator, grabbed my coat and headed out the door. Reason came in there somewhere, and I chose a Mexican food restaurant. If I had gone for a steak, I would have had wine, or worse yet, my celebratory martini, THEN wine. Margaritas are good, but if I’m going to fall off the wagon, I’m going down with what I really want to drink. In my mind, Mexican restaurants are not known for their wine or their martinis, so that’s where I headed. I had a HUGE plastic glass of water with a lemon, ordered dinner and thought about a glass of wine until dinner was in front of me.
After dinner, I headed home (noting all the liquor stores and bars along the way) so I could make some chocolate chips cookies. I focused on the cookies and set the oven to preheat as I walked in the door.
This has to stop. I am so mad that I can’t drink. It’s not fair. I may be sober and un-hungover this morning, but I’m still pissed.