I didn't have a particular plan to quit, though every morning I declared that day to be my quit day. I would gag brushing my teeth and have anxiety from about 4:00 a.m. on until I opened my first beer, which became earlier and earlier. On the evening I quit, I once again was having a pity party over something that happened to me 50 years ago. I was texting that to my daughter. It wasn't anything hurtful to her, but was sort of like a PTSD situation which I lived over and over when I was drunk. Later when I went to get another beer, I was astounded over the amount I already drank and thought that I didn't even feel much of a buzz. I stopped right there. When I think about the texting, I didn't want to be this pitiful drunk person in my daughter's eyes, though I'm not sure if she suspected I was drinking. After quitting, I never referred to that 50 year old situation again.