Month: August 2019

Alone Time can be an Alcoholic’s Best (or worst) Time

Posted on by Lisa

I recently spent an entire weekend alone. My fiance went out of town, and I chose not to go, with the intention of getting a lot of writing done. This is the first time I’ve spent this much time at home alone since I’d quit drinking. And I’ll admit, I was a little concerned.

Drinking alone was what I did regularly in the last several years of my drinking experience, because drinking in the company of others had become too contentious, inexplicable, and embarrassing.  Plus I was supposed to be working on that problem, right?
But when I was alone, the voices started:

The unrelenting voices in the head:

  • No one’s here. Perfect! No one will know.
  • You’ll be more relaxed and patient when they get home.
  • This is just who you are. This is what you do.
  • We’ll quit tomorrow.

See how this used to go?  I realize now, in retrospect, that I had been steadily and unconsciously establishing a life to facilitate that drinking alone goal. Got the kids to almost 18 alive, got divorced, and created a situation where I could drink whenever I wanted.

A part of me thought I would be perfectly happy being a lone drunk.

Perfect. This is what I had been waiting for was it not? I fantasized about this when I lived among people who needed me or triggered me. This is what I’d dreamed of secretly, but another part of me wasn’t completely happy with this arrangement.

I was a drunk. And I knew in my heart of hearts that there was more to me, and that there should be more to life.

But I wasn’t perfectly content, so now what?

Fast-forward, and obviously I’ve learned the trick to quitting the drinking thing, but what about this being with myself situation?

I didn’t know what to do with myself when I was sober. Especially when I was alone. When I was alone was really when I struggled the most with myself.

Social settings gave me plenty of anxiety, don’t get me wrong, but there were also distractions with others which seemed to help.

I could focus on the conversations, ask a lot of questions, and listen. Plus there were plenty of suggestions from recovery experts for how to handle common social situations, with regards to drinking, so I struggled a little less with what to do with myself.

I don’t think I like myself. Are we supposed to?

Not only did I not know myself, I didn’t particularly want to be alone with me. I wasn’t very pleasant. Other people seemed to like me okay, but they didn’t have to live in my head 24/7/365. It was no picnic in there. In fact, sometimes it was toxic.

The constant thoughts of:

  • There’s something fundamentally wrong with me.
  • I’m a fraud, or at the very least a chameleon who changes to suit the situation/person.
  • I’m not truly a good person/sister/daughter/mother/mate, and when they find out, they’re not going to stay with/accept me.
  • It’s just a matter of time before the other shoe drops.

These ruminations when I was alone and unoccupied were constant, and for no reason, they just seemed to pop up.

My brain supplied plenty of proof to validate every negative thought too. Remember when . . .

  • I’ll recall something from the past when I did something stupid or embarrassing, and the feelings from it are just like I’m back there.
  • How could you have been so careless, hurtful, stupid, etc.?
  • If only you would have done X instead.
  • I wonder if so-and-so still remembers that?
  • Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, . . . if you have a brain like mine, you know the etc. part.

The other thing I do a lot of is comparisons with other people, even when I’m not in their presence.

Out of the blue, I’ll have a thought about so-and-so, which triggers the comparison thoughts.

I rarely seem to measure up.

Comparison thoughts are so big for me, I’ve written a separate article about it here. But the gist is that I rarely measure up.

So, when I used to be alone, bombarded with all these random negative thoughts, some sneaky ideas would come into my head, such as:

  • You could have a drink.
  • That would feel better.
  • No one’s here. No one will know. This is perfect!

Wherever I go, there I am.

What I’ve learned is that choosing to drink speaks to my inability or unwillingness to be with myself sober. And that will always be a problem because wherever I go, there I am, and it’s not feasible to be drunk all the time. (Believe me, I tried it.)

So the way I see it, the only option I have is to create a different version of myself.

There is the belief that you need a group or support network, like AA, to stay sober. And while I do think AA/12-Steps does a great job with the connection thing, I know that ultimately it comes down to me, myself and I, and what I do when I’m alone.

I have to be able to be alone with myself – preferably content and sober, because I’ve spent the better part of my adult life unhappy and drunk. And I don’t like her.

I liken my relationship with my sober self to a budding intimate relationship.

It is, after all the most intimate and personal relationship I have, is it not? Who else knows all my thoughts — good and bad? Who else has as much to lose or gain? Who am I listening to 24/7/365? See what I mean.

So, at first we were just “talking”. We have a lot in common. Then, we started getting to know one another better — the good and the bad. The “shadow self” as it’s been called by some.

And now, while we don’t always get along very well, we’re trying. We try to compromise, empathize, and offer a little grace, because life is tough. It’s hard to be human!

Very often, unfortunately, we are at odds, and when we are, I’m very hard on myself, as we all are. Everyone seems to think that because we know better, we should do better.
But knowing and doing are two very different states.

We are ultimately on the same side — me, myself, and I; it just doesn’t usually feel like it.

But we have gotten on the same page with this drinking thing, and we’ve nailed it! We lost some battles over the years, but now we’re winning the war, and it feels good. It feels empowering. It feels like agency for myself; like I can take action and I can change things.

I feel confident, to be alone with myself, for the first time in my life that I remember. I can talk myself down and lift myself up. I can catch myself going sideways, and get back on course.

I don’t love myself yet, but I’m open to liking myself until a time when I might. This is my sober self, a work in progress, and worth the work, most days. What other choice do I have?

There is a sober self in every drunk.

It was finding my sober self which saved my life from alcohol. And cultivating my sober self is saving me from myself. Does that make sense?

I believe there is a sober self in every drunk, when the effort is taken to find him or her.

The weekend alone went off without a hitch. I did the same things I do when my fiancé is home. I did what people do when their minds aren’t obsessing about the next drink; when they aren’t manipulating and planning; when they aren’t hiding, hurting, and hating themselves, then passing out.

I got a lot of writing done – like this piece. (And I want to write something cheesy, like I got to know myself better, but that sounds so melo-dramatic.) Let’s just say I was alone with myself and content enough; not perfect but typically human, and sober.

The Cost of Your New Life is Your Old One

Posted on by Lisa

I remember the moment I decided that I had to quit drinking – for real this time. My sister had come to the house I was renting and let herself into my bedroom. I had been there for days without communicating, showering, eating much, or going out except to the liquor store. I had been journaling some, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me, so by the dates in my notebook, I knew this had been going on for almost a month. That’s hard to believe now. But it was winter, and my work is seasonal, so I didn’t have many daily obligations at the time. Perfect for drinking myself into oblivion.

She came in, started tidying up, and talking to me about how I had to “do something” with myself.  I was so ashamed for my sister to see me like this. I knew she was right, but I didn’t know what or how I could change it.

A familiar prison

As I looked around, I realized that my world had become as small as the area around me. Because of my profound need for alcohol, and my belief that I should hide that need from everyone in my life as best I could, my world had shrunk to the size of this room. I was trapped.

At least my prison was familiar, though, so my warped brain reasoned. I had stayed close to comfort and withdrew further and further into it every day.

What started out in my twenties as a way of connecting with people, had become a shameful and regular dependence I now had to hide from them. And the shame of it, the shame of my weakness for it, had reduced my world to this small room; at the point at which my sister entered, it had become as small as my bed. This was a problem, indeed.

But how could I give up the only thing that seemed to help me survive? It didn’t make sense. This substance helped me get through life. And now, I needed it more than ever. How could I just drop it? It didn’t seem possible.

The relationship I had with alcohol had become the most important and dependable of my life.

Our relationship with alcohol is, for some of us, more important and predictable than any other relationship we’ve ever had – especially with human beings. How is that? And what’s wrong with me that it was true?

What I’ve come to discover is that there isn’t anything fundamentally wrong with me. Alcohol became so important because somewhere in my very early years, I didn’t get the security I needed. It was no one’s fault, it just happened that way. And so my little girl brain developed patterns, beliefs, and behaviors to try to compensate –to get needs met, and not feel pain.

I became other-centered, as many alcoholics do.

My brain, at that early stage of development, told me that there must be something wrong with me, because some emotional needs were going unmet. So I learned how to please. That led to the belief that I wasn’t worthy of real love and attention unless I behaved in certain ways, and so I started behaving in the ways that I perceived others wanted.

A voice developed inside me making sure I “did this” or “didn’t do that”; “should” and “shouldn’t”.  The problem is that that critical voice changed its instruction with every relationship or person I met, so eventually I was trying to jump through all kinds of hoops, changing myself to suit the situation. With every year of life, I lost more and more of my true self, until I didn’t feel I had an authentic self.

Who would want to have a relationship with a fraud?

No one wants to have a relationship with a fraud, so how does she come clean? She doesn’t. She just keeps pretending, covering up, and pleasing; fearful of being found out, dishonest and manipulative to keep the whole necessary charade going. It’s exhausting and stressful. It’s a terrible way to live.

Who was I? No one knew, not even me; especially me.

Then alcohol came along and seemed to “fix” everything. It changed my state of mind, numbed the pain, guilt, and shame — filled the void and offered the delusion of connection, while providing the illusion of confidence and strength I was lacking. It was perfect! Alcohol propped me up and saw me through.

It was security, familiarity, and I attached to it for connection. We need it. We need other people, of course, but they aren’t nearly as predictable as alcohol, now are they?

Alcohol is predictable compared to people.

People may reject us. Perhaps our experiences have shown that people have indeed rejected us. They may judge us, find us unworthy, and abandon us. They may become angry because we can’t stop drinking and threaten us or give us an ultimatum.

And that’s really a terribly uncomfortable place to be – talk about a rock and a hard place. To have to choose, on the one hand, an unpredictable relationship with people; or on the other hand, a substance that seems reliable. That’s too hard a decision for us to make sometimes. The challenge is to find enough of an inner self and courage to pull it off.

I had to face that challenge, and at the worst possible time in my life. My husband of 23 years, and with whom I’d had three children said, “enough”. I will never forget how that felt. I’m balling my eyes out right this minute writing these words. It was July 13, 2012.

Yet, I chose alcohol.

It looked so awful of me on the outside, I know it did, and it felt awful on the inside. That decision brought on much negative judgment. Friends and relatives said “how could she do that?” And I really don’t know how I could have. At the time, I figured I was just a really terrible wife and mother and an “addict”; and we do things we don’t understand, and can’t explain.

It was an excruciating decision to make. So painful to give them up on the one hand, yet too difficult at the time to accept the unknown, the unfamiliar; to live life without the emotional security I had come to know.

I relied on alcohol, and in my warped weird way, I knew that when I was sad and alone, feeling dejected and judged, I could go to it, and it would comfort me. How could I handle all of this messy life I’d created without it? I couldn’t then. I just couldn’t. Not then.

And so, for a while, I didn’t. But when my sister found me in the state she did – at just that moment — the pain of the life I was living was greater than the fear of the unknown, the unfamiliar. I had to take the leap of faith. I had to.

The cost of a different life was the old one. And some are worth giving up. The price I had to pay was to give up that tiny, familiar and comfortable prison. I’m so so glad I did, but at the time, it was the hardest thing I’d ever done; bar none.

The Two Wolves Within

Posted on by Lisa

When I was in my worst years of drinking, I felt like it was all my fault. Drinking felt like it should be within my control, because it was a behavior, but I could not control it. And worst yet, I couldn’t explain it or my actions.

And I did such bad things around drinking which I hated about myself – manipulating, lying, and hiding.

Once indulging, I often became a totally different person – an obnoxious, disgusting, and/or belligerent person I didn’t like. And the thing is that I knew this behavior wasn’t really who I was — that was the kicker! But it was how I was behaving.

Often, I drank to stop ruminating on what I’d done while drunk. That, my friend, is a destructive and perpetuating cycle.

I couldn’t understand or explain why I did what I did.

Since I’ve sobered up, one of the toughest things I’ve had to reconcile is my drunk self with my sober self, with regard to puzzling and regrettable behavior.  How could I explain this? Did I just lose all sense of my true personality and character and transform into someone else? It seemed that way.

They’re such different people, my drunk and sober selves; difficult to believe they come from the same body.

There’s a Native American legend which helps me get some clarity around this dichotomy of character. It’s called “The Wolves Within” or “The Two Wolves”, and it goes something like this:

A wise Cherokee is teaching his grandson about an ongoing battle inside between two wolves. There is an evil wolf, and “he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.” And there is the good wolf – pretty much the opposite.  When the boy asks which one wins, the grandfather responds with, “the one you feed”.  (www.firstpeople.us)

Maybe we all struggle with the opposing “wolves” within.

This makes sense to me, and it also speaks to the point that perhaps this is a human trait, and not solely a drinking human trait. Maybe all humans struggle with these two internal “wolves”.

In fact, I’m pretty sure of it, because I’m also reminded that both Jesus Christ (for some, the actual Son of God) and Paul (one of his disciples and primary author of the New Testament) both spoke to this issue. Jesus says, “The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak,” (Matthew 26:41); while Paul writes in Romans 7:15, “I do not understand what I do; for I don’t do what I would like to do, but instead I do what I hate.” 

Does that sound like you? I mean seriously, it sounded like me every day — I do not understand why I do this! What I would like to do is not get drunk; yet, here I am, getting drunk — again. And I hate it! Especially the next morning, yet I would do it time and time again.

The problem is exacerbated because both voices are a part of the whole: me. And they’re largely unconscious and automatic, which makes it so confounding, frustrating, and nearly impossible to recognize, much less to change. And so, lost in that mysterious cycle of self-perpetuated destructive behavior we remain.

Would the real me please stand up?

There’s the voice tempting me to drink one day, then kicking me in the teeth the next morning for getting drunk again. The voice I hear first is “one won’t hurt” at 5 o’clock the day before, (which we all know is never only one); then I’m awakened by a different voice the next morning saying, “OMG! You did it again! What were you thinking?” Am I right?

But it doesn’t end there, because once the drinking starts, then there’s the whole Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde thing going on, where I turn into someone really different than my sober, more acceptable self. So what gives? What’s going on?

From a physiology standpoint, there is an explanation for our two selves.

Today what I know is this: very simply, we have two parts to our brain. One part is all about drinking and one part is not. (Of course, both parts have myriad desires and functions, but we’re only looking at how we handle alcohol for this discussion.)

The good wolf and the bad wolf. Which one are you feeding?

The one that’s all about drinking is the one that is responsible for urges/craving. It’s present-moment oriented and very powerful. It is responsible for the thought “just one”. Meet the “evil wolf”.

The other part of our brain is future-oriented, logical, and “knows better”.  It’s the one who wakes us up the next morning or in the middle of the night with, “What were you thinking?” It is also very powerful.

These two voices are clearly not on the same page when it comes to alcohol consumption, even though they share the same head – yours.

They need to get on the same page, and until they do, there seems to be a constant battle raging within you. Like you need that, right?

The first step is recognizing these two exist. Because when you aren’t aware of them both, you’re at the mercy of whichever one speaks the loudest at the moment when you’re deciding to drink or not drink.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

These two parts of your brain are also responsible for the opposing behaviors once you’ve started drinking. The part of your brain which sent out the craving chemicals and got you to take the first drink is also the one which has no regard for future consequences. So, you take risks, say hurtful things you don’t mean, and generally do some foolish things you may not normally do.

And as inconvenient as it is, this part of your brain which “knows better”, also is highly effected by alcohol. The minute you start drinking, it goes “offline”, so to speak, until you come to or sober up.

Phenomenon explained. Now if you’d like to try a free tip to help curb the urge to drink using this idea of the two parts of your brain, I’ve created a tool that may help. Click here to get the download.

You don’t know what you don’t know.

With this new knowledge, I’ve been able to let go of the guilt, shame, regret, and self-loathing. It does not serve me to remind myself of the many deplorable things I did around drinking alcohol. It simply doesn’t.

I remind myself of these two parts of my brain and how they were functioning against one another and against me, but within me. And I remind myself that until I got them on the same page, I was simply at the mercy of the “bad wolf” very often. And I just didn’t know what I didn’t know. Now I do.

The “bad wolf” doesn’t bite me anymore, when it comes to alcohol. He still shows up in other ways in my life/personality, but not around drinking. I’d love to help you with this too. Get my free download, and silence your howling wolf.

Before and After: An Alcoholic Makeover

Posted on by Lisa

You know how some families are ‘kitchen people’? That’s my family. Extended family too. We’re all casual ‘kitchen people’, hanging out in the kitchen whether we’re eating or not.

The other day I was at my parents, sitting at their kitchen table, talking with my father. As we were talking, I noticed my dad sort of edging near me trying not to look suspicious. I didn’t know what he was up to, but I could sense his unease, so I got up and left the table to give him the opportunity to do whatever he was trying to do. I saw from the corner of my eye, as I was pretending to look through a magazine, that he was removing a bottle of bourbon from the table next to where I had been sitting.

“Gonna start happy hour early, dad?” I joked, catching him in mid-action with the bottle in hand.

“Naw, I just didn’t want you to have to sit there looking at a bourbon bottle. Darn stuff isn’t any good anyway. So-and-so gave it to me, but it’s not worth a darn.” And he stashed it safely out of sight.

What’s so very interesting and enlightening to me is that I had not even noticed it. Honestly, I had not. As I was driving home, I tried to think back to when I first sat down at the table. Was it there? I guess so, but I truly didn’t remember. This strikes me as quite remarkable.

I am no longer aware of all things related to alcohol.

Because I was a serious alcoholic for more than twenty years, there was a time in the not too distant past, when I would have been squirming in my seat because of that bottle of booze.

This is the absolute beauty of where I am now in sobriety. Actually, I don’t even feel like I’m “in sobriety”. I feel like I’m normal. A bourbon bottle is just a glass bottle with amber-colored liquid in it. It really is nothing more to me than that. It could have been tea, juice, milk, or water. This is such an awesome and unexpected reality for me.

I’ll juxtapose that to a scenario a couple of years ago, when I was struggling to remain sober.  I was sitting in my sister’s kitchen (told ya, kitchen peeps). It was a casual family gathering, and her husband opened a bottle of wine at the bar behind me. (An aside is that I never expected anyone to behave differently around me just because I had a drinking problem. My family was sensitive to it, but I didn’t feel comfortable being the reason my brother-in-law couldn’t enjoy a glass of wine in his own home.)

Even though I had stopped drinking, my brain was doing its thing.

The pop of the cork sounded so familiar, like home, and something in me perked up like a puppy waiting for table scraps. I heard the wine pour into the glass, and I could imagine the smell of it. I glanced around, and saw that it was red; my preferred vice for a long time.  As he poured a couple of beautiful glasses full – not those wimpy 5-oz restaurant pours — it was all I could do not to drool. My mouth literally watered.

I imagined the warmth as it hit my belly, then gently and predictably traveling through my bloodstream, softening the edges as it went. After those initial moments of relief and comfort, a sigh would follow. “Ah”. . . and everything would feel better.

I had a drink in my hand, but not the one I wanted.

He poured some for himself and a nephew, then he left the opened bottle there on the counter. This counter was large, occupying more than half the kitchen, and everyone, including me, was circulating all around it chatting, snacking, and sipping whatever.

The entire time I was there, I was keenly aware of all things alcohol. Who was drinking, when they got another bottle, white or red, when a glass was left half drunk, where the bottles were around the room, what type of beer they had – all of it. I was terribly preoccupied. I tried to talk and distract myself, but it was no use.

My mind was racing and spinning. How could I get some?!

It was like a part of me had been activated, and it was going crazy yelling in my head: GO GET THAT! GET IT! NOW!

I started having manipulative thoughts about getting some. I could go into the dining room, and if no one was there, and someone had left a glass half-full, I could sneak into the bathroom. No one would notice. In large gatherings people are always misplacing their glasses, right?

And I started feeling a little energy and excitement around that notion. Hmm, how could I manage this?

No! Stop this Lisa. You don’t want this. You don’t need this. But I did. I still felt like I did. I could imagine how much better I would feel if I could just have a glass or two. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just have a glass or two? Why do I have this stupid, uncontrollable, unfair disease? Why me?

Why me? Why do I have this problem? It’s not fair!

Then I started getting really perturbed and resentful and it was aimed at them – the drinkers. It wasn’t fair that I couldn’t drink too! Why would they do this to me? I was getting pissed. So, I left as soon as I could and drove home irritated and grouchy.

I’m not even drinking it and this fucking alcohol ruined my night! The unfulfilled desire stayed with me. This a crude analogy, but it’s like when you have sex, but don’t have an orgasm, ya know? And the lack of release leaves you feeling, well, unrelieved.

I still felt unfulfilled

On the way home, I called my sponsor, and drove through Krispy Kreme for doughnuts. When I got home, I did some recovery reading, and watched television to distract myself. But the next day, I remember feeling like this isn’t over. I’m not done with this drinking thing. I’ve not gotten control of it. Maybe the “one-size-fits-all” approach is not my gig.

I did eventually relapse. Again. And that’s when I began the quest for why I drank, which has led me to what you’re reading. This site chronicles my undoing of alcoholism, and how I’ve gone about it.

It’s literally like a switch has been turned off.

Through research, I’ve learned that it is possible to retrain your brain to stop craving alcohol. It is, after all, the organ effected by alcohol and in control of the behavior. And it’s now fairly common knowledge that our brains are changing all the time.

This process is called neuroplasticity. “Neuro” – brain related; and “plasticity” – plastic like, as in pliable, changeable. It is truly incredible! Indifference to alcohol. Who knew it was possible?

I truly didn’t, but now I’m living it every day. A few years ago, you never could have convinced me that I would ever be so disinterested in having a drink, yet here I am. Indifferent to alcohol. It no longer controls my thoughts or rules my emotions. Alcohol does not dictate my behavior or impact my relationships. I can’t describe how liberating this has been for me. This knowledge and process has truly changed my life.

Stick with me, and keep reading. I can guide you through your own sobriety journey.

When do you Decide to Drink?

Posted on by Lisa

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been discussing “Intentional Procrastination” with regards to drinking alcohol, to help become aware of when you first start to feel whatever you’re after when you drink.

The minute I used to put off drinking for a bit, because I had to for whatever reason, I got a little relief from the craving symptoms – obsessive thoughts, restlessness, anxiety, etc. I used the example of when you just cannot drink for whatever reason, but you need to, so you’re feeling all the crap that goes with the need. But when you decide you’re going to drink, and even take steps to acquire your stash, you feel a little better before you even drink alcohol. Or at least, I did.

A good first question: What experience are you after?

And when you’re trying to quit drinking, that’s something you can work with, right? Because what are we trying to do when we drink every day anyway? Have you ever asked yourself the question? Try it. And try a couple of these too:

  • What experience do you actually want?
  • What do you want to change?
  • Is it (that which you want to change) on the inside or external to you?

I just wanted to feel better, or even okay, would do.

All we’re doing when we drink daily is trying to regulate or maintain a more comfortable existence, right? I mean, no one wakes up saying, “All I want to do is drink myself into oblivion again today and pass out so I’ll be unconscious for another 12 hours”. But none of us really want that because that’s not living.

If that was your actual goal, you’d be doing it now and not reading blogs like mine. I mean, friend, that’s an option, right? In all reality, it truly is. There are plenty of people doing it every day, all day, 24/7/365, then they die. Happens all the time. If that’s your true goal – have at it! What’s stopping you?

You want more; you know you do. You just need to feel better, I get it. (This is as tough as my “tough love” gets.)

Back to the experience of feeling. For me, that’s really why I drank – for the feeling. Is there another reason? I suppose there are lots, but you know we could poke holes in all of them, when it comes right down to it.

Don’t you get a little sigh of relief when you decide to drink, even if it’s not going to happen until later?

The question of the month around here is: When do you feel the alcohol? When do you actually feel what you’re drinking? Do you know? And this sounds like a dumb question, I know, but I realized that I actually starting feeling a little better before I even started drinking the alcohol. Do you?

Security. Comfort.

Last week, I had you take a look at how you feel while in the process of “securing” your alcohol. And I’d like to digress long enough to say, if you’re still with me this week, I use the word “secure” and in quotes, because for me, this is how alcohol felt. Security. Comfort. Feeling better, or even feeling okay. So knowing I was on the way to getting alcohol, made the better feeling kick in before I even started drinking it.

But today, I want a step even further backward to when you first made the decision to drink. Making the decision is key, and it’s also unconscious.

So much of what we do is unconscious, it’s hard to become aware.

The more I became aware of my internal self, the earlier I was able to recognize when relief actually came. And it was not usually when I started drinking; sometimes, I felt better just making the decision to drink. Giving myself permission to drink later, made me feel better in the moment of making the decision, even though I wouldn’t be ingesting alcohol for hours.

If I already had liquor at my disposal, then it was only a matter of time, right? So, then the emphasis shifts from if to when. And that’s actually when the brain dials down the craving chemicals.

Once I made the decision to drink, and I knew it was in my nearly immediate future, I was home free. Then it became a simple waiting game, and I could be a little patient. (Not too patient, don’t get crazy, like I couldn’t wait until tomorrow.)

But making the decision was very important. And once I did, there was nothing and no one stopping me. Making the decision flipped a switch in my brain quicker than anything. I felt it immediately. “I’m doing it. I’m going to drink.” There was power in that decision; actually, there was relief and security in it.

 And that’s one reason I think AA/Twelve Steps Program protocol of calling your sponsor didn’t help me much. Once I had already made the decision in my mind. It was a done deal, and there wasn’t anything anyone could say to me that could change my mind.

For me, at the end of the day, it all came down to what I chose to do when I was alone.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but I used to call my sponsor after I’d already decided to drink, just because I was supposed to, and later I could truly say “I did what I was supposed to do. I called you.” Only, I didn’t hear a word she said.

Sometimes, I was already drinking, because I had made up my mind, and drinking is what helped me; not her words. She couldn’t make me feel better about myself; and that’s why I drank. Her words made little difference.

Back to making the decision. This week, the challenge is to see if you also get a small sigh of relief when you simply make the decision to drink. I don’t have a tool for this though, this is all you.

Just become really aware over the next few days when you feel a tiny bit of relief from planning your drinking. You know what it feels like — something somewhere deep inside sighs, and relaxes a little. (Oh, one caveat, you have to make this awareness before you start drinking. After the first drink, you lose self-awareness.)

It’s okay if you’ve already made the decision.

If you’ve already made the decision to drink, it’s okay. It’s only me and you; and I did it too; every day for a long time.  I don’t judge. I know you’re trying to feel better, and you truly are suffering and this just eases the pain. It’s okay, though. You’re okay. I promise. Don’t worry about trying to change it right now, just become aware of it. Nothing else you have to do.

Maybe you’re at work, and you’re miserable, and all you want to do is have that first drink or two to unwind, take the edge off, get comfortable and warm, slow down your thoughts and slip into a gentler, safer place. Don’t you feel a tiny bit better just deciding you’re going to drink? I did! It got me through the afternoon, so no judgement here.

Seriously, play around with this. It’s very interesting when you start using your mind to examine your brain; or vise-versa because I don’t know which is doing which, but together they’re running your body, your behaviors, and your life. May as well take a peek inside your own head; never know what you’ll learn.