Will vodka win?

I have an on-again-off-again relationship with vodka …. it’s currently ON again.  I don’t really want it to be ON again, but I just can’t seem to silence that voice in my brain that says …. “hey, girlie, all you had was one lousy martini … you need to go to Walgreens and get toilet paper anyway, right????  Let’s just have one more, ok?”  And so I drive to Walgreens, during a STORM, pick up my Smirnoff, 2 packs of bacon (they were on sale!), a pint of Moose-tracks ice cream (another one of the voices in my head ….), and toilet paper.  So I got home and had …. *** 3 *** more martinis.  Slept like hell.  Got diarrhea and pooped (a little) my nightie pants.  The other day I woke up and swear I smelled like the inside of a bar.  Headaches.  Bloated.  Black outs.  Craving pints of HaloTop.  Drunk calling.  It’s fuckin’ stupid.

A grown-ass woman should be able to go home from work, cook a ribeye, watch a little Netflix, and NOT guzzle 1/2 a bottle of vodka.  If I start early enough, it can be 3/4 a bottle.

The thing is, I  LIKE IT.  The taste, the little buzz.  My ability to actually clean my house when martini’d up.  I sing.  I dance.  Once and a while I make a bonfire in my little firepit.  And I drink some more.

I’ve recently read the “warning signs” of alcoholism.  I can’t tic off all of them — I don’t drink secretly, I don’t drink in the morning before work (or at work), I’m not irritable or having mood swings, I don’t make excuses for drinking (happy, sad, depressed), I haven’t isolated myself from friends and family.  I do drink alone — I LIVE alone!  And I haven’t curtailed any hobbies or changed my appearance/habits because of drinking.  I stopped running when my right knee became too painful, not because I’d rather make a martini.

But I understand what it’s doing to my body.  That it’s slowly killing me.

I’m not ready to die yet.

I’m not a person who can do things in moderation.  I drink until I want to stop, which is usually never.  I don’t eat a scoop of HaloTop — no, I eat the entire pint.  If I want to start running 5K’s, I run them until my effing knee is so painful that I can barely walk.  I’m all or nothing.  I’m not ready to not drink.  I know in my heart that I will need to stop.  Sooner rather than later, I’m sure.  It most likely won’t be today.