Every time evening arrives and there’s no wine, The Voice comes slinking around the corner.
This is terrible. You love red wine. Don’t commit to forever. That’s not what you want. Other people take breaks and then try moderation. Don’t be crazy. Be realistic.
I think I need to respond with anything that soothes the voice and am not above lying. I’ll say, ok, it’s just a 100 days. And that immediately seems to satisfy. Or I say maybe I’ll drink again when I retire. As long as the door to drinking again someday remains open, the voice calms down and accepts the plan.
Here I am talking to my own self as if it isn’t me but another entity completely, living inside my head. And I think I can trick it! It sounds irrational but it also makes sense that this voice is silent in the morning during the shame-filled hangover. Not much good to say about wine then, is there?! No, this voice waits until you feel a little less toxic and wine seems less like poison, say around 4pm or so. That’s when the voice comes out of hiding.
Belle calls it Wofie. I’ve heard others say Wine Witch. To me it’s just The Voice. And I’m coming to accept that it’s addiction talking, seeming to have a life of its own. It makes me sad that I let this happen to me, did this to myself. But at our house we say, about many things, it is what it is. And then we move forward.