My desire to drink alcohol again is pretty non-existent in the main and over the last 13 months or so since entering recovery I know I’ve managed it well. The way in which my life unravelled and hit rock bottom was so scary and it gave me the wake up call I ultimately needed to change my future for the better.
That said, you don’t escape the mental tug of war completely. Over the last few days I’ve had fleeting thoughts about drinking alcohol again which have been more common than usual. Normally I can just shut up the thoughts immediately by taking myself back to the dark past – it’s enough to put me off breaking my sobriety, but it’s required that extra depth of self control on this occasion.
I’m not sure of it’s anything to do with the sunnier weather over the weekend, the fact I’ve stopped counting days or because my first holiday abroad since 2017 is approaching next month. It’s likely to be the beast as we like to call it, who lives in my head and feeds off the tiniest scraps of self doubt or lack of focus. The beast wants me to fail and return to my old ways of deep depression, heightened anxiety and of course, alcohol filled days.
The younger generation talk about ‘FOMO’ – the fear of missing out and I wonder if I sometimes grieve the fact I won’t have a pint with my mates ever again, a glass of wine with dinner or a cold ‘cerveza’ round the pool in Portugal. I’ve managed to prove my fear wrong in so many ways over the last year by still doing great things without alcohol – going on a stag doo, attending my best mate’s wedding, nights away with my wife, family holidays, cricket matches, going to the football and horse racing, and much more.
I’ve been grinding my teeth again over the last few days which was a common thing for me when I drank and I assume was related to my anxiety disorder. I’ve pretty much stopped doing it since I’ve been teetotal but it’s another observation I’ve made. I wonder if it’s connected to the thoughts I’ve had? Fingers crossed it passes as it aches my jaw!
The beast wants me to question my progress and dismiss it. The beast says ‘I’m cured’ and can drink again. The beast encourages alcohol as part of my lifestyle.
Thankfully I’ve taught myself to not take the beast’s advice and continue doing things my way.
One day at a time. One day at a time.
Happy Daddy 