I honestly don't know why I am doing it. I had two half glasses of wine tonight. That's not much but it's becoming a constant thing and I really do feel the buzz. I don't skip more than a day. Help me, I'm falling.
I am depressed. There, I've said it. I have not ever been depressed in my life except for this winter for a month. That's when I succeeded in quitting for 140 days... right when I acknowledged my first depression ever. Well, I am bloody well depressed right now.
As many of you know, while we build our home, my husband and I been living and working; actually running a construction business, from a small trailer with canvas ceilings. It's been six months now and before that, after selling our home, we were living at the office for a few months. I am at the end of my rope and have been feeling like a dirty hillbilly for too long. We actually admitted last night that we were dirty; not physically filthy but living in less than sanitary conditions to put it mildly. There's only so much hygiene you can preserve if most of your time has been spent inside as we've had the rainiest, and in our case, muddiest, summer on record.
We are both finding comfort in each other and in our evening's restaurant dinners. We work hard all day and are anxious to get off the construction site. We like to eat healthy so we tend to eat at restaurants that serve liquor. I have happily abstained for most of this difficult time. Why is it, that now, I join hubby without a thought.
I do not want to drink because ... because what? What is the point? OK, let's think.
Have my heart palpitations returned? Yes.
Have I been awakened in the night with regret? A few times but not always.
Have I stopped being productive? No, I'm on a roll.
Do I feel good about myself? Right now, no.
Am I worried about losing what I've gained in clearheadedness, energy, self-respect and health?
The enemy is my complacency. I know I would be a lot more fulfilled and content with life if I didn't drink but I find myself sighing and going with the flow. Hubby has a glass of wine... Debbie has one. It makes him happy. Hubby orders a beer on tap ... make that two. We smile...
It's only a matter of weeks until the house is built and, immediately, my alcoholic but dry, 84 year old Mother is coming for two weeks. She's told me she plans on defying the doctors and drinking as she pleases. It could kill her.
It could kill me.