That is the question. It’s no secret that I’ve been struggling the last few years with my ever increasing alcohol consumption. I’ve been pretty straightforward about it, in spite of my chagrin over the whole situation. I’m not cursed with the disease that is alcoholism, nor am I necessarily dependent upon it, but I cannot deny that my binge drinking over the years has gotten ridiculously out of hand.
This, as I’ve said openly many times, is one of the larger reasons why I am leaving the bar where I’ve worked the last five plus years and moving along to something new. And while I understand that changing the circumstances doesn’t change the habit, I still see it as a good first step.
I’ve been away from the bar for a week now, and was thrown an amazing going away party by my Maxwell’s family a few days ago. I knew I would continue drinking until I left town, and I decided not to set myself up for failure by expecting otherwise. As such, I ended up with a few unknown bruises the next morning and no memory of making it home. Surprise, surprise.
And although I would be in town another week, I saw the party as my last hurrah, the big drink-easy, going out with a bang. Once I was away from the bar on a daily basis, I had little-to-no intention of drinking much. I could control my consumption, I said. I would be just fine, I said. I got this, I said.
But here I am a few days later, humble enough to admit what I wish was not the truth: I don’t have things under control, I’m not fine, and I don’t got this. The last afternoon has seen me consume a whole bottle of whiskey. At home. Alone. Passed out by 3 pm. And I see how necessary the habit is to attack off the cuff. Now.
Understanding that the bar was not the problem came to me long ago – I’m anything if not aware of my own responsibility in the matter. And now the comprehension is literal – in my face, popping me in the nose without reserve, telling me to just get my shit together, already – I got things to do and places to go. And those things and places? I want to enjoy them wholeheartedly, remember them with fervor, and look back at them without cringing at the slurred words and half-baked eyes I most certainly kept.
So I suppose I need to start by stopping. Whether or not I can introduce booze into my life again is not in question right now; Today I can’t. One day, perhaps – probably, even, I’ll be able to drink without excess, but first things first: quitting. And, while I usually don’t quit (but will cuss the whole way), Ima make an exception here.