Lacuna Moon

Well, I might as well come clean and not be so damned cryptic.

For the past 8 1/2 days, I’ve been dry.  I hesitate to say that I am sober, mostly because I think it takes a while for the effects of regular alcohol consumption to leave your body.  This may sound like a paltry number of days to the casual reader, but it is significant for me.  I don’t think that I’ve gone for more than 3 or 4 days without some form of alcohol consumption for the past 12 years or so.  And those periods of drying out were rare at best.

All that in of itself might have been okay, except that I frequently drank much more than the recommended 1-2 drinks a day.  In the past year, my consumption has increased.

The past few years, I’ve been aware that I was developing a problem with respect to alcohol.  Aware, but unwilling to admit that it existed.  I justified my consumption levels with my depression, my rheumatoid arthritis, the level of stress in my life.  Never once did I admit that it was a problem.  I could always find a way to poo-poo the suggestion; I could quit anytime I wanted, I would declare.  If that was true, I did very little to prove that I could quit or, even, moderate my consumption.  While I may moderate for a few weeks, I eventually found myself drinking to an abusive level.

Last Wednesday morning, shortly after I woke up, I finally admitted to myself that I was an alcoholic and that my drinking habits had become unmanagable.  I decided to quit drinking cold turkey.

I never liked the label “alcoholic” — it was for people with no willpower as far as I was concerned.  That didn’t apply to me, did it?  I could slow down or stop at any time — as soon as I finished this beer…  It’s also a lifetime label.  I dislike permanent labels, anyone can change.  But, I am finally forced to admit that “alcoholic” is a label that fits me.

I’ll probably express more on the whole sordid business as time goes on; this subject has been the theme of the thoughts that consume me for the past week and I have plenty to say.  As dreary and boring as the matter is, I think I need to write down my thoughts in order to move on to more optimistic thoughts.

I was hesitant to commit myself to declaring this news — part of me still secretly wanted to be able to have a beer now and again and to make such a statement as “I am an alcoholic” pretty much precludes being able to enjoy a beer on occasion as (people look at you disapprovingly once you’ve assumed such a label).  I don’t think that I should give that part of me any hope of realizing it’s little dream, so I am making the statement public.

Wish me luck.