Day Three

I realised today, driving along – I think about obtaining sobriety as often now as I guess I used to think about obtaining wine – that I am not only scared that this will prove too hard. I am also scared that it will prove too easy, because it seems to me that sobriety easily won is not as hard fought for. I can see the thought pattern now, some weeks or months hence: it was simple to give up once, so even if this drink turns into a night of drinking, I have all the tools to just start again. It’ll be easy.

But it won’t be easy a second time. Friends will roll their eyes. I won’t believe in myself as strongly. The tools will lose their grip.

Right now, I’ve never failed at getting sober. It’s imperative that continues to be true.

On a lighter note, I don’t want to drink tonight. At all. My husband was offering me a wine earlier, and wondering aloud what to have with dinner himself, and I was able to throw out suggestions without a pang.

He didn’t have anything, in the end, and asked me for the first time why I wasn’t drinking, was it just health reasons or…? I was light about it but clear that it was complete. No, just a drink on a Sunday night wouldn’t work. It’s good, he said, well done.

If that’s all that’s said, I’m very lucky. He comes from a drinking family, so he was already wired to normalise my drinking quite a lot. And he has joined me mostly. He can stop at one or two with no problem, but of course it’s most, or every night. Weekends we’d have a gin and tonic and then share a bottle, and he’d sometimes finish with a port, and neither of us are getting younger so that was starting to bother him on his own behalf. Now he’s sticking to one drink per night, weekends only, which will probably work for him. But that isn’t really what I set out to say, which is really this: I realised today that my reluctance to tell him was not, as I’d thought, that he would be surprised and disappointed and think less of me. It’s that he’d say he was relieved, and proceed to tell me how awful I was. I can tell myself that, but u can’t yet hear it from someone else.

So this conversation was simple, very little was said on the surface, but I think he gets it, and he gets that finally I get it too. So there will be no more offers of wine from him, but hopefully no recriminations either. Which is probably more than I deserve, but nonetheless what I need.

Day three. Late evening. Mug of tea at hand. Very happy, actually.

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