I’ve been thinking about something I wrote in my last entry. I think it may be the key to my recent frustrations.

I wrote that I’m not too worried I’ll begin drinking again, because I feel like I CAN’T, and that if I did I’d practically have to kill myself.

I’ve spent a lot of time training myself to recognize the negative consequences of my drinking, and to immediately consider the negative consequences whenever I consider drinking. I’ve built a nice little support system that includes this Web site. I’ve gone public, sort of. But maybe it’s all worked too well, because now I feel trapped. I feel like the choice to drink has been taken out of my hands -- I myself have handed it off -- and now the decision is no longer mine to make. I just CAN’T. That makes me so mad. It makes me crazy. I think, in the long run, feeling like this will make me more likely to drink again, or at least to drink again sooner and more and with a mission of total carnage.

Maybe I need to step back and remind myself what this is all about. Maybe, and I’m treading lightly here, maybe I need to remind myself that I CAN drink. The world wouldn’t end. I wouldn’t really have to kill myself. But bad things would certainly happen -- some at once, and some over time. I don’t want those bad things to happen, so I choose not to drink. I choose. It’s my choice. Ugh, it’s almost like starting over. Even worse, I bet I’ll go through this process over and over for the rest of my… uh, for the rest of the time I’m doing this.

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