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.”
(surprise registers)
“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.

So happy.

(*I don’t actually think it sucks. Not even close.)


14 thoughts on “Acceptance

  1. There must have been something in the air last night! For the first time in a little while it hit me that drinking would be really the perfect thing for last night. But it wasn't, and I got past it, even though I felt sorry for myself for a little bit…

    sometimes acceptance comes with a bit of self pity.. and at this point, I'll take it however I can!

    Good job πŸ™‚


  2. Thanks. And hey, take it however you can get it, for sure, if the end result is always abstinence. No one said every day would be easy for us. πŸ™‚ I'm glad you didn't drink either, Corinne. Thanks for visiting.


  3. I'm so happy for you, Melissa. πŸ™‚
    I like the way you convinced yourself that it wasn't the right thing for you to do. Life is easier when you can believe in yourself and know you are doing the right thing. Accepting who you are and knowing what is best for you is a major success in my mind. Being your own best friend makes you a little stronger every day.


  4. I appreciate your thoughts, Daisy. I always used to say I was my own best friend. Back before I so terribly lost my way. It's starting to feel like that again. And I do know that I am making the right choice, each day.

    Thank you!


  5. Good for you, M. A nice moment indeed. That urge will continue to spring up from time to time–still does for me after 11 years–but dismissing it gets easier (and quicker) the longer you are sober.


  6. I miss your posts and hope you post again soon. I promise I'm not a creepy stalker, just a drinker who is thinking about quitting and has been following your story for a while. I'm rooting for you!


  7. No creepy stalkerishness taken. πŸ™‚ I am thrilled when I get comments from people who say they are following this at all, so thank you very much Nicole. I am still sober and will write again soon; I've just been off elsewhere as of late.


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