I’m Vintage In Stepford, and I’m an alcoholic.

35 days ago, I quit the bottle.  And now I’m beginning to realize that the reason I drank was because I had no idea how to process emotions.  I never learned, never taught myself, never sought out answers.

Now that I’m off the sauce, I’ve had to learn to deal with crap like regret and shame.  It’s not easy when you’re middle-aged and just beginning to learn how you bury these things in your head and cover them up with alcohol so that you don’t have to deal with them.

But that’s exactly what I’m doing.  And this shit is scary.  Really scary.

I won’t be going to AA meetings because, quite frankly, there’s nothing anonymous about AA.  You stand in front of a bunch of people, give your first name, but it’s not like they don’t know your face.

This is going to be a long process for me.  A very long and difficult process.  And I’m going to make some screw ups, say some embarrassing things, post some embarrassing material.  But bear with me.  I will conquer this.  I will figure this all out in my head.

And I want a drink SO badly. You have no idea.  I just want one sip of something to bury this all back up so that I don’t have to deal with it.

But I’m an alcoholic. One drink will turn to two, two will turn to four, and I’ll be passed out before midnight.

If I have even one drop, it’s all ruined.  All the work I’ve put in so far will do down the toilet.

I’m an alcoholic.  I have to face that.

And today, I choose not to drink.