I am perhaps too suggestible. In reading the last few chapters of this Jason Vale book he suggests having one’s “final drink”. He does say something along the lines of “if you’ve already had your final drink, well done”. But it planted a seed in my brain and here’s how the seed grew:
“Have I had my final drink?” (I’m not sure.)
“Do I really believe that alcohol has nothing to offer me?” (Yes, but I still feel hesitant to say goodbye.)
“Am I 100% certain about my decision?” (99.999999%!)
“Do I feel free from this trap?” (Nearly.)
So, Yeah, I decided to have a final drink last night. Final drinks, in fact! A type of carnival, farewelling the fleshy pleasures of alcohol. And I determined that I would pay attention and see if alcohol had any tiny thing that I still felt I needed in my life.
And no. It doesn’t. All the things I have thought that it enhanced or made more tolerable (cooking, taking a bath, playing with my children, chilling with my husband, sex, creativity, sleep!) all those things were actually impaired by the inclusion of alcohol. In fact the Carnival masks are the perfect metaphor. Alcohol hides me from my life and hides my life from me. And they look kind of nightmarish, hollow-eyed and scary too!
So, this morning, despite struggling on with a hangover (something else I won’t ever have to experience again!) I really and truly do feel it. I’m free. I’m done. I don’t have any doubt. This will be the last post I tag with D-Days.