I was the queen of slips. I should of had a tiara. Granted, it would have been all banged up and missing rhinestones and sideways on my head...
I did have a psychic shift of sorts. But I continued to drink for a few years after that. I thought I need to find just the right formulation of red to white to grape to grain. A science experiment if you will.
I would get so frustrated and lament and complain to DH how "Gosh, I didn't even DRINK THAT MUCH last night and I feel like hell on wheels." Every drink I took, with every slip, made my life a living hell on earth.
Didn't know at the time I had subtly (and without my permission) shifted from hangovers to withdrawals.
For me, what finally made it stick, was I had become borderline suicidal. The alcohol had taken such a toll on my brain that I was starting to have psychotic episodes. And I wanted out of the pain. And ending it was becoming more and more appealing.
It owned me.
So after getting on my knees and begging for mercy, I knew I had to make a radical change.
There was no more "if" or "when".
IT WAS *NOW* or *NEVER*.
Mercy and grace working overtime in my favor. Because I begged for it.