I decided to quit drinking several times before I followed through.
I’m not counting the literally hundreds of passionate, impulsive times I vowed to quit, out of remorse or shame or a hangover.
I mean the game changer, the whole new life plan.
When I shared my decision with my close friends and family their reactions ranged from lukewarm (“Really? I don’t think you’re an alcoholic, but if it makes you happy…”) to astonished indignation (“OMG, don’t be ridiculous!”)
It was easy to get talked out of my decision. It seems like the people around me preferred me not to change anything.
And since it seemed like hard work to quit, I accepted the verdict. I’m not bad enough to need to stop.
First, there was enough secret drinking going on that I more than qualified as a problem drinker. Second, what were their motives, my friends and family? Maybe my not drinking was going to make them think about how they drank, and they didn’t want to. Or maybe they didn’t want to give up their party girl.
The last time I stopped, on 4/30/18, I told my loved ones, “I’m quitting drinking. I drink too much, it’s not good for me, and I’m unhappy.”
For me; it was a decision, not a discussion. And it’s not one to make by committee.
My gut, my inner knowing, told me alcohol was really bad for me, and could maybe ruin my life.
I don’t care anymore if people understand why I’m sober. I just hope I live to see the day where, in a social setting, someone says “Oh, you drink?,” instead of, “Oh, you don’t drink?”