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:

  1. Savoured the taste more.
  2. Taken more notice of that feeling when the alcohol starts to seep into your bloodstream.
  3. Drunk slower.
  4. Used my favourite glass.
  5. 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.