That voice is back. The one that has, for a while now, been trying to convince me that a glass of wine wouldn't hurt. Now that voices is a full fledged entity causing me to pause as a drive by bars at 7am.
This happens when I get overwrought, overtired and overextended. While the logical choice is to ensure that I get some rest, the alcoholic in me suggests that we kill the pain temporarily and press on like some great martyr nailed to the cross of perseverance.
Really, it's just a ploy. She's always in there. And always will be. It was three years in June since my last drink and I know without a shadow of a doubt that I cannot be a "normal" drinker. I don't drink to celebrate, socialize, or relax (okay, those too.) But I drink to forget, soothe, and deal with life. When I quit, I had to re-learn coping techniques to deal with everyday life.
Being sober for over three years, I am somewhat of a veteran recovering alcoholic. And not only with length of time, but quality of life is factored in to recovery. Have I changed? Do I try to remain honest, have I made changes to my lifestyle (friends, places I go, etc.) am I involved in helping others?
Yes! I am a totally different person these days.
So why does She come back? It's like a plague. I get weak and tired and She is right there, dormant and waiting. Insidious and patient. Calculating Her strategy and ready to pounce when my defenses are down.
I guess that's why the recovery programs suggest that you get hooked up with other people that are making a change in their lives. My husband is from a totally different side of the tracks than I am. While I know that there would be no consequences, necessarily, he would be very concerned and frightened for me. I don't want to put him or the kids through that. And really, that's the only thing keeping me sober right now.
I am SO finished with my job. I've hated it for a couple of years now. Now that I have a plan, I find it very hard to show up everyday.
Susan is really bothering me as well. She cries when she sees me in the afternoon because David is leaving. So then she cries and screams for about – oh…- till bed time. I can't hardly get her to eat, and when I take her to the nursery at church she screams. It feels like Alahnnah, revisited. Lord, I don't know if I can do that again.
At least this time I'm not alone. Oh, yeah, wait. I am. My husband works second shift, so I am dealing with another screamer all by myself. And also, she doesn't do it for him, so it's entirely for my benefit.