I wanted to drink yesterday.
After 10 weeks of sobriety, if you ask me on a daily basis if I want to drink or if I miss drinking, I will say no. I don’t miss the shameful mornings or the anxiety or the social idiocy or the physical exhaustion; those things are surely obvious. But I don’t miss the physical act of drinking either. I was one of those alcoholics who never liked the taste of alcohol. I would take the first shot each night like medicine, wincing and sometimes gagging as I put it down, letting it burn my insides. My body was telling me no, but I kept forcing more poison on top of the nasty amount that was still with me each day. Hair of the dog indeed.
So when the urge struck yesterday, randomly, in line at Henry’s staring at the mints by the counter, I was taken aback. My thought process:
“Drinking would be really fun tonight.”
“Yeah but I can’t. (sigh) Man, it sucks* that I can’t drink.”
(immediate response from inner voice)
“Well, you can’t. Accept it and move on.”
That was a great moment. A wonderful, distinct mental step. It makes me feel like I am truly standing on solid ground. No more bargaining can ever be allowed.
It also reminds me of the Serenity Prayer. “Accept the things I cannot change.” Well, one of the things I cannot change is the fact that I can’t pick up that first drink ever again. And I accept that. I accept that.
(*I don’t actually think it sucks. Not even close.)