Morning of day two of self-realization

It's morning and I feel like crap. I drank most of a bottle of pinot grigio while watching The Housewives of Orange County. A perfect show to justify my drinking - they are always drinking on that show. And while I certainly don't believe that they are a mentally stable crowd, nor are they or will they be particularly successful (come on Gretchen... a make-up line?), somehow it makes me feel that my behavior is a-ok. They are still rich... or were... they are still cool... not. So why do I feel good about associating myself with them through four or five glasses of wine for hours and hours (was Bravo's regular Thursday housewives marathon)?

Last night my daughter wouldn't go to sleep, so I yelled at her and had my own mini-melt down. Exactly the right parental tactic for getting a two-year-old to sleep. Had I not been drinking, and wanted to get back to my friends in Orange County, I would have taken a few minutes to snuggle with her - like I had the night before when I did not have a drink - and she would have gone to sleep in minutes. But no.

I have made some progress already. There is at least one night a week that I don't drink. But I went for many years... more than a decade... where I didn't miss a night. It started in college, probably junior year. And only a few years ago did I manage to grasp this tiny bit of control. I had made a lot of attempts.

I remember calling my mother and telling her that I thought I was an alcoholic, an attempt to get some support on the issue. She asked me if I drank before I went to work. I said no. She said then I wasn't an alcoholic. Hmmm... the plot thickens about why I have this problem.

And I'm probably not an official alcoholic. There doesn't seem to be a real definition out there. But I was particularly disturbed when one of my work colleagues made a comment about how I liked to drink. How did they know? Did I over-do it at one of the after-work mixers? I doubt it, because I had honed, over the years, the skill of being drunk but not appearing so. I remember in my late twenties, I would black-out, but I didn't pass out, someone else would just take over. My friends had no idea. So how would they know at work? Did I show up reeking up fermentation? Was I blurry eyed? It wasn't the type of question that anyone would give me an honest answer to in that environment, so I didn't ask. Or maybe I didn't want to know the answer.

More disturbing to me than this is the hours lost on the hobby. When I resigned from my job to take care of my daughter, I also had the ambition of becoming a writer - my lifelong dream. But writing in a haze of pinot noir didn't seem to produce anything good, if anything at all. I justified this process with famous writers like Ernest Hemingway (turns out, old Ernest didn't really start his alcoholic binges until later, and all his good work was already done) and Stephen King, my hero. But Stephen didn't drink wine and try to write, he mainly did hard drugs when he produced his best work. I guess I could transition, but probably not a good idea.

So another purpose of this blog, if anyone ever actually reads it, is to share how much time is lost if you're a drinker. All the hours I could have been producing some work (maybe I drink because I'm afraid my writing won't be any good) or I could have been at the gym (I've tried to go after a drink or two, not productive) or spend with playing with my daughter - although I only mostly drink when she's already in bed, or on her way.

I'm going out to dinner with my husband tonight. The goal is to only have one drink during dinner. Maybe two. See the problem is I don't want to give it up all together, I just want to get it under control. Why? Why not just get on the wagon? I think I'm afraid I'll change as a person. I mean, this is who I am - I like good food and good wine, is that a crime? It's just that good food and good wine turns into crap food after a couple glasses and crap wine is what I can afford when I'm glugging it back every night. But the fear is still there. What if I gravitate to new, boring people when I stop drinking? What if I don't like my husband anymore? What if I'm not as funny as I think I am?

So the objective is reduction, not elimination. Now I know the double A theories are that you give it up - all of it. And for hard-core, stumbling, stealing money for booze, beating your wife alcoholics, that's probably the only way. But I don't fall into those categories, I'm totally functioning, just not at the level I want to be.

So let's see how it goes.