Friday, April 2, 2010
Wine, wine... wine.
Day 246. I had an interesting conversation with my brother last night. He asked how I was doing with not drinking, and I proudly told him my day count. He asked if I thought I would ever just try to take one glass of wine, and keep my drinking to a minimum.
I laughed, and said that I knew better than that. One glass of wine a week would turn into one glass of wine a day, which would turn into three glasses of wine a day... which is where my story started. I don't have the 'want' to just have one glass a week. If I'm going to drink, I'm going to get buzzed. That's the only reason I would ever drink. That's the only reason I ever DID drink.
So then the interesting part of the conversation happened. He apologized to me for having 2 beers the last time he was at my home.
Nonsense, I said... I don't care if you drink in front of me - it has no impact at all. The husband drinks a beer every night. There is a bottle of wine in the cabinet.
He's not the first person to feel funny about drinking in front of me. And that makes ME feel bad!
My drinking was a very solitary act. Yes, I drank with friends, but rarely allowed myself to get too buzzed. I was always ascared I'd get sick. But at home? No problem. I'd suck them down until I couldn't walk straight. And my FAVORITE time to drink was alone on my deck, with my book, the sun and a large LARGE glass of wine.
So seeing someone drink in front of me holds no 'want'. And I can't say it enough to my friends and family - go ahead and drink - PLEASE! It truly doesn't make any difference to me at all, and WON'T make me fall off the wagon.
Only *I* can make myself fall off the wagon. And I'm clinging to that wagon with every breath I take.