It’s still astonishing to me that I clung to my wine like I needed it to live. I did not want to stop. Then I wanted to stop and couldn’t, and tricked myself into thinking I just wasn’t ready, it’s not a good time, it’s soooo hard.
The hardest part was actually making the decision. Not in the midst of remorse and hangover, but in a miraculous moment where my inner knowing finally took charge and said, “The end. Enough.”
I had FOMO but I wasn’t missing out on anything but chances to get drunk and made bad choices. If I started drinking again I’d miss everything I have sober. My friends, my attitude, my feelings.
All I lost was the struggle and mental turmoil, body weight, shame, secrets, and hangovers.