I had a beer…

(Ignore the title, I’m reblogging an old post. At the moment, I am alcohol free…)

Obviously, I have been here before. Today marks 99 days.
I want to drink.
I had another argument with my wife. It’s always the same. I hate myself as a result of our relationship. I want to tell her I’ll be out of her life by next weekend and then just spend the next week drinking myself to oblivion.
That’s what my dis-ease is telling me. That’s what Hilda is telling me.
I haven’t done my 4th step yet. I can’t seem to address my two biggest resentments – my wife and myself.
I have no idea how I’m going to make it. I want to drink. All day yesterday the negativity around me was firing my nerves. I wanted to drink. Then this morning shit happened that is too hard to go into detail as I write this post on my phone. I am dying to go to Old Chicago in three hours when it opens and drink as much beer as I can. The only thought reverberating around my head is how much I want out of my life.
At this moment, I’m sitting in my car, at a park and going through my old posts trying to find my reason for not drinking. The last time I made it to 99 days – almost 2 years ago – I gave it up on a whim. Today, my thoughts are intentional…

Acquiescent Soul

I made it 99 days (this past Saturday), before I decided to drink a beer. I went to dinner with my wife, she ordered a glass of wine and I ordered a beer. I drank one beer with dinner. I felt guilty, but I felt guilty because I felt like I would be letting AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) members down. I don’t feel guilty that I’m doing something to myself.

I didn’t feel any urge to continue drinking. It was one beer that tasted good while I ate a steak and creamed spinach. My wife and I continued our date that night and attended a comedy club, where I ordered iced tea.  I didn’t have the urge to drink. I wasn’t craving any more beer. Everything felt fine.

Obviously, this has me questioning if I am an alcoholic. What if I am not? What if I simply found that alcohol was…

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I’m pretty sure I lie to myself

Yeah, I think I do. I think I lie to myself. I think I tell myself things and have no idea if I am building myself up with truths or lies and I have no idea if I am tearing myself down with truths or lies. I've got a few beers in me right now … Continue reading I’m pretty sure I lie to myself

Take 2: I’m Done Allowing Shame to F&^K Me!

I’m re-blogging this today, because I made a mistake yesterday and drank a beer. It was Easter dinner and someone in my household offered me a beer and I accepted it with no hesitation whatsoever. I knew I shouldn’t have done it, I knew that drinking one would make me crave more. I did crave more. I didn’t have more. I certainly don’t understand why it is so difficult for me to say “No, thank you”, but obviously, it is. I briefly wanted to lambaste myself and call myself an unsuccessful loser. I recognized that was Hilda, but I decided to let Stephanie shine instead. Stephanie told me it is okay, it’s a mistake and there is no reason to condemn myself over it. She told me that I need to focus on the beautiful progress I’ve made and let that be the guiding light to continue the path I’ve begun.

So, I’m back to the beginning. Yesterday at 4:00 p.m., I began Day 1 again.

Edit (04/16/2020): I’m not calling it Day 1. I’m keeping my original sobriety date. This is a blip on the radar and having it reminded me that this is NOT the route I want to take. I didn’t have more, I didn’t want to descend into the darkness of my mind. I turned away from it, so I’m calling it a mother-fucking success!

Acquiescent Soul

I’ve attached shame to so many things, but if I were to put together a list, it would look like this:

My relationships

Being bisexual

My faith

My alcoholism

My role as a parent

My role as a partner

My job situation

My financial situation

My health

My weight

And many others. I began blogging many years ago to discuss so many different things – sex, my marriage at the time, and my depression were going to be my primary focus. Over the past several years, however, I have discovered so much more about myself and certainly not all of it has been an exciting or happy experience. For example, when I was at the lowest point in my depression, I couldn’t even find the energy to take care of personal hygiene. I wouldn’t wear deodorant, brush my teeth – let alone anything else that is good care for oneself…

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