I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t handle one more second of it. The entire seven days was torture.
So I drank. I actually felt better almost immediately. My anxiety slipped away. I was so happy and relaxed. I was smiling.
Yeah yeah, I know. It didn’t last and here I am today, back at square one and Day 1. But I’m back. I can’t afford to loathe myself. I am going to do this, no matter many times I have failed.
I think from this particular relapse I have learnt a couple of things: don’t mess around with antidepressant meds (I was reducing because I felt so good – what a dumb arse thing to do), and to always consider a medical detox. Man, that was one rough week – never felt so sick. I was up to drinking a couple of bottles of wine nearly every night. You can’t just take that away without some pretty dire consequences.
Fortunately, I can feel my meds have kicked back in and I’m on a relatively even keel. So, hopefully that translates to a better chance of staying off the booze.
I probably have no right to, but I actually feel incredibly positive and okay. I had a great day (besides the crustiness of a mild hangover) hanging out with my lovely friends and family. The sun was shining and I wasn’t hating on myself. Just resigned to the fact that I am doing progress and not perfection. And I’m not giving up giving up.
So, tomorrow I’m off to an AA meeting and going to tee up some A&D counselling. I need support – can’t do this alone. But, I can so see myself as a strong woman in recovery who has her shit together. Bring it on. It’s gonna happen.