The Decision

Sorry, a lot of posts today, but I wanted to get the background written down - I will calm down soon I promise!

My husband has been gently expressing concern about my drinking for a while, and of course I’ve been all defensive and annoyed and in denial. But about 5 months ago now, at a GPs appointment, I suddenly blurted it out that I was drinking far too much and I needed help. The GP was amazing, and got me booked in with the addictions counsellor at the practice pretty quickly.

I think I was expecting a magic bullet, a solution, answers, some secret spell that would stop me drinking from then on. My gut reaction is to say that I’ve not found it entirely helpful. Mainly, I go in, confess to how much I’ve had to drink, get told that it’s too much and encouraged to set a lower goal for the next week, I talk a bit about the things I have worked out for myself about my patterns and habits, and that’s it.

Then I go away and what normally happens is I stick to my limit for a few days, have a night out and blow it, then go into “fuck it” mode and just drink like I normally do. And I beat myself up for failing. I wake up feeling rough, I say tonight I won’t drink, then the evening comes and I pour the first drink, which always leads to the second and the third. And I drink to numb the guilt from failing and the voice which tells me this is yet another thing I can’t do.

I’ve been feeling a bit annoyed about the counselling too, as I don’t feel like it’s been helping at all - no real solutions offered, nothing I don’t know already. I KNOW how much I should be drinking, and what my habits and triggers are, and I don’t feel like I’ve been told anything I don’t already know, or shown in any way how to change it.

I’ve tried not drinking alone. I’ve tried only drinking when I’m out. Setting a weekly limit, a daily limit. Having days off. Asking myself if I really want this drink. And yet, I’m still routinely putting away 50-70 units a week.

On Tuesday morning this week, I was walking the dog, feeling rough (Monday night was a bottle of wine, two scotches), and grouching in my head about how useless the whole thing was. I sat and looked at a beautiful view, and started to ask myself the questions which I was annoyed the counsellor hadn’t asked me.

Why do you drink?

I like it! It makes me feel good, it tastes nice. It helps me relax.

Really?

Yeah! I love how it makes me feel like shit in the mornings, and stops me being as effective as I would like to be with my work and home life, and makes me horrible to my husband and inattentive to my daughter. I especially love how whenever any of my friends spots a gin related thing on Facebook they tag me in it, and that cute drawing my daughter did for her homework showing Samuel Pepys burying his cheese to save it from the Great Fire of London, and me stood next to him burying my gin.

Hmm, sounds really relaxing. Maybe you should work harder at this control and cutting down thing then? 

But…I can’t. One drink, and all of that stuff is out of the window and all I can think about is the next drink. I spend my afternoon looking forward to gin o’clock. OhMyGodIReallyAmAnAlcoholic.

Well duh.

And if I keep drinking I’m going to keep on being a person I don’t like and a bad wife and mother. I’m going to miss out on so much good stuff. I might even be like Charles Kennedy and die tragically young and I might never walk up that hill over there and see the view from the top.

Oh God. I’m really going to have to stop. Forever. But I can’t do that, because I might fail, and then it’s another thing to beat myself up about.

Better not fail then.

And there’s the difference this time. I’m determined to break the loop of failure and guilt. I want to do this. I want to feel better and be healthier and slimmer. I want to be a good wife and a good mum and a good businesswoman. I want to feel in control. I don’t like who I am when I’m drinking, but I drink to escape her. That’s stupid. I’m done with it.