Still sober!

I did a really scary thing today. It will be the last time I do it. I went to the liquor store to buy a bottle of wine to replace the one I drank on Day 0. We don’t drink a lot of wine, and we don’t keep a ton of it in the house. I know my husband has been watching the levels of our liquor, and probably counting our bottles of beers and hard seltzers. He’s really not a big wine drinker but since we have so few bottles in the house I was worried he would clock that this one is missing when he returns from his trip tomorrow.

Not a big deal, just one bottle. But after a Friday night of drinking, and then a Saturday night of drinking too much, I made a big deal about how I was going to dry out while he was gone. When he comes back I plan on telling him right away that I have committed to not drinking for 100 days. But I’m not ready to tell him everything yet. He does know a lot, but not everything, and I’m not ready to deal with him dealing with the full truth while I’m just getting used to this sober thing.

Over the past three years or so I have been having secret trips to the liquor store to buy booze to replace booze before he notices too much is missing, or to buy secret booze that I kept hidden and would make myself a pre-drink with to get started before we had drinks together so I could maintain the appearance of moderating in front of him. This has lead him to asking, “how did you get so drunk so fast last night?” many times. To which I respond, “I made the mistake of drinking on an empty stomach again. It went right to my head.” Which usually worked.

When I say I would go to the liquor store, I mean several stores, because I don’t want the people who work at our regular, nearby store to clock how often I’m buying booze. I make trips there for “us” but also occasionally for “me”. However, I keep other stores on rotation. And even though they might only see me every few weeks, I am burning with shame each time because I feel like I just did it last week. Because I did. At a different store. And every time I go in, or out, I am terrified I will be noticed by someone I know.

I was doing something that made my life harder, so I could go home and do something else that made my life harder.

And for what? Chasing that buzzed feeling. That lovely humming feeling. The sweet spot. But honestly, I was hitting that mark so rarely these days. I either moderated, but my tolerance is so high, as well as my anxiety, that I wouldn’t get there. Or I would over shoot by sneaking drinks, and get drunk, and have to work my tail off to look not-totally-drunk in front of my family.

Even if I manage to land on the sweet spot, then what? This is what happened last Friday, and I was so damn proud of myself on Saturday. Then I got greedy or cocky or both and got too drunk on Saturday. It’s not worth it for the few times I get there. It’s just not worth it, and I need to keep telling myself that over, and over, and over.