Last night was tough again. I’m finding the most difficult time is about 5pm when I’m in the kitchen cooking. Where’s my treat, dammit??
So, I took some good advice and went out shopping. I bought myself flowers, fancy M&S tea with cocoa nibs, AF fizz for New Years Eve, and that helped for a while.
I still nearly cracked though. OH suggested I wait till after tea, and see if I still felt like wine, which worked as the craving magically disappeared once my belly was full.
We ended up having a really good, open talk about what I’m doing. I tried to explain to him how my relationship with alcohol is different to his; how I use it for different reasons. For me, I’ve realised drinking is an escape route, a way of pulling up the corners of the big comfort blanket, flipping down those blinkers and making the world a tiny, dark, safe place, where I can live right here in the moment. I can say a great big “f*ck it” to all the STUFF THAT NEEDS DOING, the constant mental list of things I never quite get round to and all the associated guilt. The joke is, that when I’m sober, I actually have time to deal with the myriad of molehills which make up the unconquerable mountain in my mind. I know, because during my sober July, I felt in control and on top of things for the first time in years.
So, tonight Red has a plan. I’m going to exercise through the tough hour, because as I remember, those endorphins are quite a rush. Then I’m going to get some SHIT DONE. And then I’m going to relax, with my endorphins, my sense of achievement, and a bloody great big hot chocolate.