Just five days short of my short-term sobriety and there is no way I am not drinking a beer. No point in me telling you why … nothing shocking or life-altering just a couple of very good reasons (you say excuses … tomay-to, tomah-to). Raging PMS, terrible traffic, a bad day at work, just so frickin’ thirsty!
And, yes I am disappointed in myself. Well, sort of. I mean twenty-five days off ‘the drink’ is not bad. I’m sure my liver has recalibrated itself a bit, and I’ve sorted out the habitual tippling from the “gee, a frosty cold beverage would really hit the spot” imbibing. At the end of the day, I was only out to prove to myself that I had some semblance of will power—hence, the disappointment, because surely the willpower is in going the full distance. Even the bartender commented that I ‘surely make it a few more days.’ Yes, I could have. I think. But I just didn’t want to.
Surely, I have the heritage (Irish, English and Scottish) and the genetics (a family history of not so good with the alcohol), that I must always be mindful. And, that’s the point. Mindful. I didn’t drink for twenty-five days, but I ate an awful lot of chips, woopie-pies, and second helpings. Carbs have to come from somewhere. Ultimately, I think the lesson learned for me is that the challenge is not in abstinence but in the thoughtful balance of every day choices.
Or, as Oscar Wilde put it: “Everything in moderation, including moderation.” I continue to be a work in progress.