alphaomega

Here's the lie that I was living thinking it was somehow constituting "recovery".

For the last 3 or so months, I was under the false impression that I was in sobriety mode. And, for the most part, I was sober. A few threads ago, I was pontificating regarding all the physical maladies that had been remedied in sobriety. That I had blah blah days sober, but that they weren't CONTINUOUS.

Newsflash (moron me) if they arent continuous, guess what , you are NOT sober.

I had slipped (HA) four, count em babies, FOUR times in those 16 weeks.

And I was all "wearing the Sobriety Sash and practicing my pageant wave" like I had accomplished something.

Well I wasn't sauced EVERY night is that must mean I got it all figured out. (BIGGER HA).

Since I had it figured it all out, it must be ok for me to have "just a glass" for my anniversary.

It almost killed me.

Straight up. That single glass, turned into a few bottles, and after the smoke cleared, for the first time in 20 plus years of binge drinking a few nights a week only, I was flirting with the idea of around the clock drinking.

And for a few split seconds, it not only appealed to me, it seemed like good idea.

The intensity of the craving was so beyond my control, so beyond anything I have ever known, I was like a zombie following its lead wherever it wanted to take me.

I quit, it wins, I'm done fighting. Game over.

This one had me but good. The noose had been put in place and I was willing to do whatever it wanted me to do. I have always considered myself to be a relatively tough broad but no more.

I don't know how I've managed it, but I got out of the shackles. Again. And have 8 days clean, again.

Continuous.

It can't have me.

Yet.