All done.

First post ever.
I stopped drinking alcohol on Thursday, June 18, 2015. My last alcohol consumption was 2/3 bottle of fancy red wine. I'd bought that wine, along with another bottle of fancy white, the previous Sunday. Drank most of the white Sunday and Monday, leaving a mouthful in the glass and thought, that's it, I'm done. This is too much, I'm drinking too much every night. That bottle of red I'll save for the upcoming Friday, when I was planning a girl's night with some close friends. I won't drink until then, and then that bottle of red will be the last and I'll stop.

Tuesday evening, on my way back from a doctor's appointment to relieve the babysitter, I realized my husband had class that night, wouldn't be home until late, and there was nothing better than a giant glass of red wine and a couple episodes of OITNB while my husband was out. Luxurious, free time, with wine and tv he doesn't enjoy. And, I even had a new bottle in the house! I mentally fought inside my head. But, I was going to stop drinking...I really shouldn't...it's making me feel bad...but husband is out...it will be relaxing and luxurious...just have one glass for pete's sake, you don't have to drink the whole bottle...space the glasses out, make the bottle last a few days...

And I did it. I fought and won. No drinking that day.

Wednesday. Something changed. I realized I couldn't save that bottle. It was fancy, after all. I would drink it, then would be done. One big glass in these fantastic large, expensive wine glasses my mother in law bought me for Christmas. That's it. I even waited for my husband to get home, it was at least 6:30pm. I put the bottle of wine, the rabbit opener and the big glass on the counter so he could see it was unopened.Yay, I don't have a problem honey.

Drank one glass. And by one glass, I mean a giant glass half filled, so about 8 ounces. First sip was lovely, but not as fantastic as I'd thought it would be. From then on, I basically ignored the taste, smell, what-have-you and drank that wine like it was my job. Lay on the bed, tuning out everyone, watching my show, drinking that wine. Finished the glass and got another. Watched more tv. Think I may have topped off one last time, can't be sure. But a few things I do remember:
I felt tired.
I felt like I needed air and hoped I just slept through the night and didn't spiral into getting sick.
I felt sad that I drank, practically without realizing what I was doing, and how much I drank. Even if I couldn't pinpoint how much that night, I knew it was a lot.
Walking downstairs the next morning and doing what has become the norm lately...checking the bottle. Checking to see what was left and how that amount directly related to how I would feel the rest of the day. Most of the bottle still there? Great! I'm doing fine. I did it. I didn't drink too much. I controlled it. Half a bottle left? Well, not great, but there are two more glasses in there you could space out over the next two days. A third of the bottle left? What the hell happened? Why did I drink so much? What's freaking wrong with me?

Thursday, June 18, I decided that was it. All done. I'd wanted to quit for a long, long time. I remember having a discussion with my brother years ago, at our parent's house. He said something along the lines of wanting to stop drinking. Maybe it was his increased interest in running or a less-than-great doctor's visit, I can't remember for sure. But I remember saying I'd do it with him, in solidarity. I even think our sister was in on it. But I also know within weeks or days even, we were all at it again. But when I agreed, it wasn't just in solidarity, it was because I had concerns about myself, just didn't want to do it on my own at that time.

I read Glennon Doyle Melton's book "Carry On Warrior" and her admission that she was sober secretly thrilled me and freaked me out at the same time. How the heck did she do that? I didn't know anyone who didn't consume something: wine, beer, pot, pills. How does one relax? How does one deal with a busy life and stress without something at the end of the day? What does she do at 5pm? I loved the idea of it, but it just wasn't practical. She was just one of those people. Those tiny, fit, loving, happy, successful, beautiful people that can just do that sort of thing. (If you read her book, as I've done twice, you know she is not those things, but I rationalized the opposite to myself anyhow).

I'd been talking with a good friend about my drinking for a while. She asked some questions that let me feel that since: No, I don't drink during the day. Yes, I can skip a day (if necessary). Yes, I can manage my life, family and work, that I probably was ok. Don't worry about it so much. I think this was because I've also be suffering through some heightened anxiety in the past year and she was worried fretting wouldn't help.

Then I started to look (secretly, stealthily) online. Looking for books on real people (not self help people, not doctors) who stopped. Like Glennon, but with actual info on how they did it and how if felt. I was embarrassed to actually get the books from the library, so I got on waiting lists (waiting lists! for books on how to stop drinking!) for the electronic kindle versions of books. And I found a blog "Mrs. D is Going Without" which I could access while waiting for the books from the library. That was it. I read her beginning posts for an hour, then I ordered her book (kindle version, of course! I didn't want people to see me reading a book like that, even though the title doesn't give anything away). I read her book. I read it all the time. I highlighted 50% of it because it was so like me and what she said I knew I'd have to go back and re-read when things were harder. I called up her blog on my phone and read it while I walked the dog each evening, alone.

And, finally, I knew I would do it. I don't want to say I'm trying to stop. I don't want to try. I want to do, so I will. And here is why I know I can:
I realized that those last two bottles of fancy wine didn't taste as great as I'd anticipated.
I'd had my other go to drink, a sidecar, a few weeks before, and it also wasn't as great as I'd anticipated.
I'd had my third go to drink, champagne, a week before, and again, not as great as I'd anticipated.
There is a theme here.
It was a habit. A habit that was confused. I think it was more about the timing of the situation. How I could tune out somewhat from the worst, hardest part of my day, dinner time. The kids become unruly, there's so much noise, fighting, stress, I want to go away from it, but cannot leave (I am the primary caregiver of young children until my husband gets home each night). So I leave by visiting another, pretend, grown up land. I pour my fancy wine into a lovely fancy goblet. I love the sound of that wine glass when it 'tings!' against the table as I rest it down. This is what grown ups do. I will drink that wine and it will relax me, subdue me, take me above the din of my children and their messy noise.
But, see, it didn't actually do that. What it did do was take me away, but to a surly, irritable, 'leave me be and go play!' place. And then, I didn't even want to cook, or even eat, the meal I'd make for them. I just wanted to sit with my wine, possibly watch them all eat and 'relax'. Oooh, I was going to relax if it took a whole bottle to do so.

And, each glass of wine would contain a mental fight and so much guilt. I would work myself up inside:
I love wine! I love the taste/smell/color!
You are drinking too much, can't you just have one glass and be done with it?
But this is what I do, I love good wine, everyone knows that.
Your innards are a mess. You already have had messed up sugar levels...wine is not going to help that. Look at your face. Look how puffy you are getting, look at your sagging neck. Drink more water, for pete's sake.
I'll space out the rest of the wine. I'll just have one normal glass tomorrow.
What the hell happened? Why did you drink that last glass? You didn't even taste it.

I've always had a compulsive nature. Consume, consume, consume, until it's gone, make sure I get as much as I can. Obsess over things. My brain is always buzzing.

So I read Lotta's book. I got inspired. I woke up Thursday and poured the remaining wine into tupperware and froze it (I use it for deglazing). I felt relieved. I actually felt relieved that I was finally doing it.
At 5pm I took a note from Lotta and poured some iced tea I'd made into my fancy wine glass. And it was freaking great. I think it really was having the glass of pretty liquid in my hand that I needed, that I wanted.

Each night I go to bed happy. Each morning I wake up excited. In Lotta's book, she refers to the 'pink cloud' and that I need to be aware of this common condition. And maybe so. But it has been 4 days and I feel great.

I feel:
Relieved.
Lighter.
Less bloated.

The pain my chest, that constant soreness at the breastbone, has released. I sometimes feel it, and I breathe and try to visualize me dealing with what the cause, what directly preceded that feeling. Ooh, look at me, dealing with things! Not stuffing them down! It's so novel.

So there. There we are. Today is Monday, June 22. I haven't had a drink in four days. I'm done!