If you know me, you know that this gal loves her wine. Red, blush, white, I love me a big old glass of that fermented grape juice. I used to love a cold beer but then I got into the wine side of things and while I’m no expert, I know what I like.
The trouble with alcohol, be it wine or beer, whiskey or rum, whatever the choice may be, I always have some concerns. There is this little voice in the back of my head constantly whispering to be careful, or second guessing me when I buy it. This is because alcoholism runs in my family sure as blond hair and blue eyes.
My dad is an alcoholic, pretty sure his dad was too. Countless family members at his level are undoubtedly also slaves to this vice. I’m always worried that I may be too. I’m not afraid to admit that once I pop the cork I see no reason not to finish the bottle. That day/night. Yes I do feel the same way about a box of Esther Price chocolate too, what is the point of opening it and eating one piece only to place the lid on it and put it away. Hence I do not buy boxes of chocolate because it makes my butt fat and isn’t good for me to consume the entire contents of that beautiful, gold foil lidded container. I KNOW I’m addicted to sugar (it is as addictive as heroin if you research it). Finishing the entire bottle of wine is also not good for me, because it can leave me feeling crappy the next day. It can also feed my lethal temper should I find myself provoked. Sure, many times I just walk away, but when I don’t brush off the provocation is when things get ugly. I do not believe that when drunk, folks are more honest, because many a man out there thinks he can fight and win against the biggest dude in the bar, only to wake up beaten to a pulp. But common sense seems to disappear with each drink. Mine goes on a serious vacation.
10 days ago I had the day from hell at work. And then, just before my shift ended I learned I might wish to join witness protection and change my name before a family member caused a major embarrassment in a very public fashion. While I did not relocate I did stop for a bottle of wine on the way home from work. I had not had a drink in several weeks, and that previous bottle had indeed made it several days before running dry. But that night I drank it. All of it. The next morning I was kicking myself for turning to alcohol to numb the rotten day before.
This was when I made a decision that I wasn’t entirely sure I’d make public. That day, 1/21/20 I decided I was done drinking alcohol. I don’t know that I have a problem, really don’t think I am an alcoholic. But I do know that reaching for it because of a hard day is not a good thing. My personality is less sparkly and more like unstable TNT when mixed with too much (though where that line is remains a mystery) of the spirits. So why bother? Nothing good or positive ever comes from consuming alcohol, but so many bad things, ugly circumstances, are known too.
I may or may not have a problem, but it isn’t worth it to me to find out down the road that I do. I’d rather skip it and enjoy life and remember everything the next day than be sketchy on the details if I recall them at all. Not to mention the trail of verbal damage that is sometimes left in my wake is simply no longer worth it to me.
Just pour me some ice water with lime, or a cup of hot, black coffee, really I’m good without the potential issues associated with alcohol.