This is not an easy thing to do. Confessing and sharing about slipping up on Friday night. I'd had a tremendously hard week with people, feelings and depression. My relationship crumbled the day after we decided to try again. I don't even know how many times we've tried and somewhere along the line I should have realised it's not worth the heartache or emotional turmoil to go through it again and again and again. Why I decided to get involved again while having a business to look after I'll never know. While these are not valid excuses, they are the reasons. And it's impossible to put into words what happened, but I know I have to try.
When I found something out, something that proved to be the last straw, I could feel myself leaving my physical body. When I was speaking, it was as if I was listening to myself from a distance. It was as if I was split in half. All reason went out the window and somehow I knew what was going to happen next. I walked into the cellar and got a bottle of what used to be my favourite wine, put it in the fridge. Went to check that all was OK in the bar. Went back to fridge, opened the bottle, got a glass out of the cupboard, poured the wine. Sat down and looked at the glass. A fleeting thought that I had not yet taken a sip and that it's not too late to change things passed in my mind, but it wasn't strong enough. I took a sip. Didn't enjoy it. Took another, didn't enjoy that either. Worked myself through two glasses, felt myself getting affected by the alcohol. Didn't like it one bit. Poured the last glass from the bottle. Took a sip. Looked at it, left it, and went to bed and promptly passed out. The next morning I poured it out in the sink.
Meanwhile the ex walked in to the room and the shock on his face when he asked me if that was a glass of wine I had there, and I said yes. The sad eyes, the crying, the begging that I had to stop, all the hard work I'd put into it. To be honest, I think that's what I wanted out of it. I didn't want to get drunk, I didn't enjoy the taste of it, I just wanted to make him suffer and see what he'd done to me, in a pathetic attempt at taking back my power from him.
While having to reset my sobriety clock is hugely annoying, I think I've learnt something important from this incident. Number one is that sobriety is an extremely fragile thing and it needs constant nurture and care to stay strong. Number two is that I get weak and sensitive when I don't go to meetings regularly, I definitely need the instant spiritual top-ups that the meetings provide on a regular basis. Further, I know now that my favourite drink has lost its allure. It does not taste nice, and that's good to know because that's one of the things that would spring to mind during difficult times... the thought of that lovely, cold, crisp Sauvignon Blanc. Not anymore and that's a huge relief. I didn't enjoy the feeling of getting drunk, didn't like the feeling of losing control of my senses and physical actions. I also realise that when I picked that drink up, I didn't have a desire to drink per se, I wanted to achieve something else. The drink was just the means to a different end.
As much as this evokes shame and guilt in me, I'm grateful it happened this early, only three and a bit months into sobriety. I'm grateful for what I've learnt from it, and endlessly grateful that I didn't get a taste for it. It was a huge gamble because it could have gone the other way and I wouldn't be sitting here sober now on day 2 again.