lead by my old friend, the wine witch, is back from holiday and they’re well-rested, have a nice tan and they’re ready to GO.
Ah. The chitter-chatter in my head, it’s driving me insane. I KNOW, for a fact, that I need to stop drinking. I’ve tried (and failed) the moderationthingy for years now, it just doesn’t work. I KNOW this, there’s not a doubt in my mind and STILL, here comes the voices. “What’s the point in going to Greece on holiday if you’re not even allowed to have that tiny bottle of Retsina with lunch? You know how lovely and just enough that 0,5 litre bottle is and this time around you wouldn’t continue drinking after that, you could just get that perfect buzz (remember to not eat any breakfast and just have a small salad for lunch otherwise that small bottle won’t really hit that perfect spot) and have a lovely vacation. It helps you relax. Makes you a FUN person again, not this introvert bore that you’ve become these last 10 days. Come on. COME OOOOOOON!”
I’m hoping the Jason Vale book get’s here today, I really do. I need to re-read my list of reasons to quit.
Just did. Oh jesus lord almighty, I really have embarrassed myself in the past. The waves of shame are making me sweat. So. That was constructive. All of a sudden I now remember how I felt in Greece last year. Of course I had sworn to moderate because… Well, you know, that’s what one thought was the way to go, and of course I failed. Some days that small bottle of Retsina amazingly did do the trick and I stopped. Other days it was just enough to make me want MORE. So much more. Remember being extremely grumpy on the beach one day because my dear husband told me it was poor form to bring wine and I sulked like a toddler. I mean really, like getting all quiet and walking away and not answering when he spoke and just being really. Embarrassing. Oh, and also having been able to moderate for a whole week (those white knuckles were shining bright) of course I ended up being completely drunk the last evening, over-sharing with my new brother in-law, really, really drunk and then of course having to get up at 4 a.m the next morning and pretend not to be hungover at all and traveling all day and just wishing I was dead instead. So there you have it. No more Retsina for this old drunken lady.