I have a mild hangover this morning, and I have a lot (A LOT) of feelings about it. And a lot of those feelings are extremely contradictory. Like disgust and pride.

I am disgusted with myself because on October 20th of 2019, I decided that I was done drinking. And that was a huge decision because I. Had. A. Problem. I drank way too much. It was nothing for me to go through a fifth of whiskey by myself in a day. I didn’t care what time of day it was, it was never too early to start drinking. I think that’s a lie. I think I did plan some of my drinking around things like the kids school and stuff. I didn’t drink if I knew I was going to have to drive somewhere with the kids (because I didn’t drive by myself because of *mental illness*). I did drive hungover and hindsight has me cringing so much. I did a lot of things hungover. Back then, I drank to stay awake and I drank to pass out. I did not understand the concept of social drinking. I drank to numb everything and I drank to feel okay. If something went well, I drank. If something went wrong, I drank. If I wanted to have *marital relations* with my spouse, I drank (that’s something I’ll dig into later, I will state that with my present spouse, it has ALWAYS been consensual and I have never been pressured which is…something I am not used to receiving in a relationship). Anyway, it’ll be much easier to say: I spent most of my time drunk. And when I decided that I was done, I had decided that I was done. I was also scared. I would get so drunk that I felt like I lost control of my very flimsy hold on sanity and my mental health. There were a lot of contributing factors to my mental health, but it all culminated in me admitting myself to a psychward…which is…another story. So, yeah. I am disgusted with myself that I decided to drink again.

BUT. I am also really proud of myself because I did NOT go overboard like I used to. I did NOT drink hard liquor last night. I drank mudslides that were 12% alcohol (side note: I had never had a mudslide before last night and it was like alcoholic chocolate milk). I was in complete control last night. I said no to additional drinks. I didn’t even get a full buzz (so, thank you aging body for the hangover, you fucker). I didn’t seek out drunk. I just sipped at my drink and enjoyed the slight burn of the alcohol in my throat and the warmth that spread through my body. I didn’t stumble. I didn’t slur. I didn’t go overboard at all. And I am so proud of myself for that. I feel like I can handle it. I don’t want to drink right now. I’m not sure I even want to drink tonight. But I am glad to know that at least for the moment, I can handle it. I know it’s a slippery slope and I know that (especially because of my history) I have to be very careful…but… I am hopeful. I may be able to just…enjoy a drink for what it is and not to just destroy my waking self.