I didn’t know my last drink was going to be my last drink. I was happily, drinking away my usual bottle of white wine when I decided it was a good idea to open a second. Long story short, I woke in the morning to a message from my husband asking me to leave, I knew that I couldn’t do it anymore.
If I’d known that bottle was going to be my last drink I would have:
- Savoured the taste more.
- Taken more notice of that feeling when the alcohol starts to seep into your bloodstream.
- Drunk slower.
- Used my favourite glass.
- Treated myself to a fancy box of chocolates with it (maybe even push the boat out and go for Lindt)!
These are the things I told myself, and believed, in the early days of sobriety. The truth of the matter is, this would never have happened. I wouldn’t have thrown myself a ‘farewell alcohol’ party for one because I was not strong enough to do it by myself.
Over the last 4 years, I’d attempted a dry month 6 times and only successfully completed it twice. One time I only got to day 2! These failed attempts only served to shine a spotlight on my addiction. If I caved and drank one night, I didn’t think ‘right no more for the rest of the month now’. That was it. I’d drunk. I’d failed. No point in carrying on. I’d lost (or won seeing as I was internally celebrating being able to carry on drinking).
The very fact that I have lamented my last drink for so long proves that it would not have been my last drink. I needed to be pushed into a corner, I needed to be given an ‘either /or’. That was the only way I would take it seriously. I feel sad that it had to get to that point for me to finally kick it, but grateful that it did.