Today is 43 days since my last hangover, gulp of wine, and purchase of any booze……
I have been reading many sober blogs, I joined a private yahoo group online, listened to sober podcasts, started using the words “my sobriety”, and just recently researching AA meeting locations online…..
I have said AA meetings are not for me. I think the reason I say that is I am scared or afraid to admit to the world and especially myself, I have an alcohol problem. I am alcoholic. I don’t like the word “alcoholic”. I don’t like labels. I don’t like negative words like, fat, ugly, or mean. If someone called me those words or thought that about me I would be upset, hurt and sad. Maybe if people think (or know?) I am an alcoholic, I would be hurt, upset and disappointed in myself. However when I listen to other women in the sober community accept and embrace the word alcoholism it seems the only way to move forward. In my heart I know that I have a problem with alcohol. I have tried moderation and it eventually leads back to binges of a bottle of wine or more a day with a day break here and there. I believe I need to accept I am powerless of alcohol. I never just want one glass of wine and majority of the time I am going to bed drunk or passed out. Doesn’t that mean I am powerless over alcohol? Shouldn’t the best thing for my health, my future and my children is to give up booze forever? Just accept “forever” and move to the next step?
I believe the only way for certain to know these answers and take the next step in my journey is to explore the route of face to face meetings. I enjoy the sober blogging community and it has been very helpful for me so far but I believe the help doesn’t stop there. Isn’t the next step either counseling or a 12 step meeting program? Why am I so afraid? Should I just wait a little more and see how I feel after a few more weeks? Should I just bite the bullet and attend a meeting? We are taught you can’t say something is not for you or you don’t like it if you don’t try it.
As a child I sat and stared at the plate of brussel sprouts for a very long time because my grandmother wouldn’t let me get up without trying at least one. I eventually did and said I hate them. Now some 25 years later, I love brussel sprouts. Grandmom probably shakes her head when she looks down from heaven and sees me eating a plate of them. I wonder what she is thinking of me now as I type this??