Ah, the excitement at the prospect of drinking. By the end, when drinking offered no actual relief, only shame and fear, I think the
idea of drinking became the only real source of pleasure. Classic example of the AV conjuring an image of alcohol completely unrelated to the reality. I think that was the hardest thing to overcome—the myth of alcohol, the fantasy.
But the good news is that once I recognized it as poppycock, it completely lost its hold on me.
Last night on another forum, there was some discussion about one-day-at-a-time vs. quitting once and for all. A couple people can't quite wrap their heads around the idea that I can safely, comfortably, and confidently say I will never drink again. It occurs to me that one difference in our approaches is that I no longer believe addiction is stronger than me, or more cunning. I wouldn't say it's faded to black; I expect to hear it's voice from time to time, but it holds no sway. I've got it's number. Check and mate.
Great post, Obladi. Thanks for prompting me to reflect on all that.