Shaking An Urge
It's been a trainwreck of a day, and I'm crawling up the walls. The want feels like need. I know it will make nothing better, but there's a bottle here now because nothing else has made sense these last few days. We've all got stress and struggles, and I'm well versed in things not going my way, but there's a point where swimming against the tide becomes exhausting enough that I'd like to stop paddling. That was the thinking that scored the scotch tonite.
The thinking that gave pause and led me here, venting instead of drinking, acknowledges that the impulsive drive to run away from my life is a weighty and dangerous one, and that, even tho I'm in over my head right now, no condition is permanent. The drink is not worth its cost.
I haven't opened the bottle, and I'd like to think that I won't. Perhaps someday I'll not think immediately to drink when things fall apart, but until then I suppose I am just happy to catch myself before I light the match that sets it all ablaze again.