It's interesting, Blanket about the rebelling thing. I never, ever rebelled as a child or teenager. I was the "good" child whilst my younger brother rebelled against school, our parents, just about anything. In his teens, he went out all weekend drinking. Now, he is a married father and rarely touches alcohol. So it seems ironic that I am the one with the problem. Whilst he was stealing my Dad's Russian vodka and drinking it in bed, I had no interest in alcohol at all.
It's amazing, the things alcholics do. The bottles in the freezer, the way we lapse so quickly from feeling guilty to thinking 'What the hell, I don't have a problem, why shouldn't I have at least one 'vice'?'. I justify my drinking by saying that I take lots of exercise, don't smoke and eat well. But I'm still drinking far, far too much.
I can't believe I'm on day four. It feels strange. I am still dehydrated, drinking loads of water. I won't drink today but tomorrow (Friday, the weekend, a bank holiday to boot, the biggest trigger ever) I probably will.
I am sleeping so, so much better. I no longer wake up in the night to drink water. But I am so exhausted, I feel I am recovering from an illness - I suppose I am.
I was wondering what the worst thing I ever did whilst drunk. Probably the many times I verbally attacked dh and tried to get him to leave. Or was it the time I was putting ds to bed and I fell asleep, fell out of his bed and injured my head? Stinking of booze and my hair full of blood, ds and dh worrying about me - awful memories.
In my single days, drinking led to one night stands with men (and yes, one time, a woman) and waking up feeling shameful. I would go to parties and flirt outrageously with anything with a pulse. Oh and the hangovers. I lived alone so I drank alone. I once climbed onto the window sill of my four storey high flat and thought about throwing myself onto the rail track that ran past the building. Oh the lovely memories.
One other thing I used to do - my parents are practically non drinkers and fairly disapproving of alcohol. They are still very strict with me, even though I am in my forties. My dad once lost his temper when I requested a second glass of wine at dinner. He refused to give me a second glass.
I hated going to stay with them because of my dad's temper and because they would serve a wine in little glasses and only filled them half way. A second glass was never offered and I learnt not to request it. A bottle of wine would last for three nights which amazed me. I used to nip into the larder and neck a bottle of whiskey. The thought of being caught was terrifying - all would have been revealed.