How to come to terms with giving up my last pleasure
Hello, my name is Mike. I think I have a problem with booze but I'm fighting admitting it to myself.
Between that second drink and fifth drink I love myself and I'm a great writer, raconteur and I see the world in a kind and generous light. Before the first drink I'm a panic attacky anxious, over-thinking nervous sonoffabitch and I don't like myself.
But after the fifth drink I become maudlin, self-obsessed, dark and full of self-pity about everything that's gone wrong in my life. This pity party inspires me on with the right music to drink 5th to 50th.
However, those first few drinks after abstaining each weekday to get through a week of work feels like nectar, a deserved treat, a chance to get back to the "real me". I can't give it up.
I've battled and got through a nasty gambling addiction, smoked too much weed, done too much coke, chain smoked a pack of Marlboro each day.... I've managed to give them all up. SO - I'm pleading with myself not to please not deny me the last pleasure I have to change my consciousness quickly when I need it.
But I'm posting here because I feel it's becoming a problem. All my working week I'm driving towards the moment I can treat myself to a drink like a dog waiting for it's Boneo. And I find I'm passing the "pleasurable" 5th drink outer marker a bit too often these days.
I'm not ready to admit I'm an alcoholic. I freely admit I have a problem with alcohol but I equally freely admit I also have a problem with life and alcohol is the only thing I have left to self-medicate that in the short term gives me any pleasure and eases my anxiety.
Conflicted much? Surely.
Anyone got any advice please (other than find god and follow the 12 steps). thanks.
BigSur