Hi all, I am 1 week sober. Been lurking, reading, learning, analyzing, comparing, lamenting, and rejoicing with hope. Always in the past i would try to 'cut down' which worked for awhile then invariably the quantity would rise again. I was afraid to quit, afraid of the pain, the changes, the mental anguish... not anymore. In fairness, I have had an odd strength I have never had before (but then again I found a new fear that made the fear of quitting alcohol pale by comparison... borderline diabetic, and o yeah my wife has grown so very weary of my rollercoaster ride). I see in everyone's words; the hopes, the excuses, the illusions, and the stark realizations I have made over the years. Alcohol never gave me energy, it numbed the pain that slowed me down. Alcohol never made more social, it numbed the fear I wanted to hide from and not face. Alcohol never made me happy, it pulled a cover over my worries so I couldn't see them so clearly or it would even make me snap to angry at the thought of a cross word. In this week I had maybe 2 itches to actually drink again... the outrage I immediately felt inside at myself was palpable. I nearly foamed at the mouth screaming at myself in the mirror, except I understood I wasn't yelling directly at myself, I was yelling at (to borrow from the TV show Dexter) my dark passenger, My "Jimminy Cricket's evil twin". This was the first anger I have felt the whole week and it was at myself.
The hardest thing now is patience, waiting, hoping to see despair transform into hope in the eyes of my loved ones. Hoping they see that this time isn't like before, that this time I am not sneaking a beer or 2 in the basement while they think I am cutting down. That I can't and won't ever be the way it was during my cloudy years ever again. That the real me is finally coming home.