49 hours since I last had a drink and where yesterday was all shakes and sweats and anxiety, today is much improved. The fog is still there but the sweat has quite literally dried up and I'm no longer trembling. Right now he side of my body is still sore from a drunken fall on Saturday night, but with luck that'll be gone in a few days, too.
The trouble is that I know only too well how the physical symptoms are a useful reminder of exactly why you need to give up. When they fade, you're left feeling human again, and your only weapon against a repeat performance is willpower. For someone who's spent his entire life merrily giving into temptation, who has made being wild and wicked part of his brand, that's quite a daunting prospect.
Still. 49 hours and counting.