Gettin’ by

My sobriety hangs by a slender, slender thread today, as I hover on the knife-edge between desire and self-worth. Desire — desperate, overwhelming desire for alcohol. Self-worth — that which ultimately stops me in my tracks. The only thing stopping me now — the only thing that has been stopping me for the past week — is fear, no, terror, of what will happen if I give in to the craving for just one sip of wine. The script running in the background is Marc’s cautionary tale about the drugs that somehow got down the hatch before he had a chance to think about it, and brought on a 3-year relapse and many dire consequences. One sip is too many, the dangers are huge … but the desire is chipping away at my resolve.

I knew there would be challenges, and so far I’ve been facing them down — one day at a time, often one moment at a time, but I can never take it for granted that I will continue to make the right choice, that I will not at any moment give in to the “what the hell” part of me that has been my downfall so many, many times in the past. The difference, of course, is that now I’m stone cold sober when I’m having the conversation with myself that used to happen when I was already drinking, the one where I convince myself that just one more glass of wine won’t hurt.

I don’t know what I’m going to do, from one moment to the next. I honestly don’t know deep down that I’m going to make it this time. In fact, deep down, I know I’m set up to fail, and it’s taking everything — everything — to keep from taking that one sip. I feel myself getting closer, skating closer to danger, danger. There’s been alcohol in the house. I’ve been looking at it and thinking about it. Today I was at the market and managed to talk myself into buying wine — for taking to a friend’s house for dinner tonight, of course, but the truth is  we don’t have to take wine. We’re bringing other things, so wine is probably a bit too much. But I talked myself into buying it anyway, “just in case”. Just in case WHAT, I now ask myself. I tell myself, you know. Who are you trying to kid, you know exactly just in case WHAT. What was I thinking? Ohhhh, I’m so far out on the limb I’m not sure I can get back.

So, here I am writing instead of drinking. I’m re-reading my own strategies from previous posts and comment threads, hoping something will resonate from that not-so-very-distant past part of me that was ever so confident just a few weeks ago. I find myself in a hoping-against-hope kind of place, hoping-against-hope that I’ll continue to be strong, strong enough to just keep riding out the craving, breathing, watching it come up, watching it subside. I know the real answer is simply Love. I need to remember to Love my own sweet self. Having trouble getting there right now.

So instead, I simply follow the form: Riding it out, breathing, gettin’ by.