Secrets, lies and self destruction

I have now been sober for 114 days and I can honestly say that I'm beginning to think less and less about alcohol.  I'm hoping that this is a good sign that I'm 'getting there', although I am under no illusion that I'm cured or over it.  I realise that I will always have a problem with alcohol and I can never moderate.  I know that just one drink of booze will lead to the bottle and then, ultimately destruction.  It's not that I've been constantly thinking about having or needing a drink, but I do think a lot about what I would have done in the past in certain situations;  you know... Hard day at work?  I'd rush home and pour a drink down my neck.  Good day at work?  I'd rush home and pour a drink down my neck.

'Mummy was a secret drinker' posted a great post today about alcohol and anxiety.  I've been thinking quite a bit about this subject since becoming sober.  For the last couple of years, when my drinking began to get really out of control, I suffered a bit from anxiety, particularly at work.  At first, I wondered if my boss, colleagues or clients could tell I had a drink problem... Could they see it?  Could they smell stale wine?  I then got to the stage where I got so nervous in front of my boss that I started to dread having our usual catch up meeting in the morning, I'd have a hot flush, I got that 'fight or flight' feeling, I felt faint.  I also started to have problems writing in front of my boss, for example filling out a form, writing a message or even signing my name.  I felt dreadful.  This eventually spread to me feeling like this in front of clients, so I would organise appointments where my colleague would deal with them.

At home, I would worry when my husband went upstairs.  I could hear him wandering about.  What was he doing?  Was he searching my wardrobe?  What about my shoe store?  Shit, did I get rid of that empty wine/vodka bottle that I hid under the bed?  More often than not, I would wander upstairs casually after him.... To get ready for bed, go to the loo or whatever.  Just to make sure he wasn't looking where he shouldn't have been.

At work I'd worry about what my husband was doing.  Was he going through my things looking for evidence?  Would he find it?

This was on top of the constant thinking about when I'd get my next drink.  Would it look odd to the cashier at the supermarket if I bought a bottle of wine, a small bottle of vodka and a bottle of water (to decant the vodka into of course)?  How much could I drink before Mr W got in from work, but still appear sober?  The usual stuff.

It's hardly surprising that I felt this way.  I was self destructing and imploding and, if I am honest, something was going to have to give.  It was all of my own doing.  I was leading a life full of lies and secrets (my own of course).  My life was one big fat lie.

Eventually, something did give.  Something that could have destroyed everything I hold dear.

Now, I am 114 days sober.  Apart from feeling guilty and ashamed for my past behaviour (which I am working on), I feel great.  My anxiety has gradually disappeared.  Why?  I no longer have those secrets and lies to hold.  I am free and working on staying there.  Most of all, I feel relief.  A burden has been lifted from my shoulders.  It feels bloody fantastic!