I’ve been thinking a lot today about moderation. It all started when a new dress arrived and discussing the next girls meal. Everyone was moaning about the grey day (I actually love grey days) and someone chipped in, was it too early to start on the wine. The response from the rest of the group was it was never too early and the discussion then led to where we would go out next.
The general consensus was a lovely independent cheese and wine bar which I’ve wrote about before on this blog. The one where the owner didn’t know my name, but knew what I drank.
My mind started to wander during this discussion. was this it? No more cocktails with the girls? What if I only drank when going out with the girls? Or on special occasions like Christmas? It wouldn’t be “that bad”. I’d still be cutting down and I could “handle it”. Just a glass of wine now or then or an espresso martini.
The thing is, what I’m learning during this process, is that unfortunately I’m an all or nothing person. The word moderation, literally does not process in my brain.
Last night I was feeling stressed so I decided to break my no sugar and dairy and have “a bit” of chocolate. We know how this ended…. a pack of biscuits, a bar of Cadburys later and I was hunting around the treat cupboard like something demented trying to find another bar of chocolate.
I remember the days before I stopped drinking. I would literally think of any excuse to drink nearly every night. I’ve had a bad day, the kids were hard work, I deserve one, I’ve submitted my work, there’s a Y in the day. Everyone else is drinking, how could I celebrate without a drink.
Before I stopped drinking, when making cocktails for the hubby and I, I was taking secret sips (well actually gulps) in the kitchen whilst mixing. My SD knew how to mix my favourite g&t and we would have g&t Sundays. I would competitively look at the glasses poured and always hope I’d get the biggest glass. I would make arrangements to meet friends without children, just so I could drink. My first night away from my daughter, I arranged a sleep over at a friends and we drank so much we were sick at 3am in the morning. And I felt relief and even more exhausted. I’d get the feeling inside me that I needed a bender to escape. I look at it now and think escape from what.
I’m actually petrified to return to how I was. The feeling of being out of control and something controlling me. So much so, I don’t want to risk “just one drink”. I look at what I’ve gained in just over 80 days and it’s not worth it.