Over the last few years I have been in and out of the rooms, once staying dry for a year but for the most part weeks months or perhaps days at time.
On of the things that has always puzzled me about this is the determination with which I stop and yet the ease with which I pick up. There hasn't been much 'white knuckling' or deliberation. While I have wanted to not drink I have found it easy, and when I have decided to drink it has been a whim, I just think why not and do. Normally it has been around 11 or 12 at night, and I think 'hell, why not?'
Two days ago, Friday night, I had such an urge - and the normal thought process began - why not, on the way home, pick up a few beers, it doesn't matter, and so on...
But I didn't. For the first time in recovery I didn't. I mulled it over, thought of the consequences, of what I have been building and decided not to.
This may not seem much, but for me it was a really profound moment. For the first time it wasn't just not wanting to drink, it was deciding not to even though I wanted to.