I can’t believe that I’m a drunk

My mother quit drinking when I was in the fifth grade.

She gave me lots of warnings about alcohol, explaining that being a drunk runs in her large Irish Catholic family.

Because of that, I have been pretty cautious. I know to limit myself to two drinks and to be very wary of any habitual drinking patterns.

Unfortunately, that drunk gene seems to be kicking in.

If you are not a drunk, here is an explanation for how it works (at least for me):

  • Phase One: You are able to have a couple of drinks and stop drinking.
  • Phase Two: You are able to have a couple of drinks, but every once in a while you drink until you pass out.
  • Phase Three: If you have a couple of drinks, there is a 50% chance that you are going to wake up on your sofa next to an empty wine bottle.
  • Phase Four: Just having two drinks is a nostalgic memory.

In the last year, I’ve started to realize I have hit phase three. Trying to prove to myself that I had not, I would have two drinks and one raging thought “I am only having two. I can drink two and quit.” Basically a miserable experience.

Once you’ve crossed into the next phase, there is no going back. That is sort of it. You can quit for five years, but if you go back to drinking, you pick up right where you left off.

So, I guess mother knows best. I think I’ve come to the end of the road on this one.

Countdown: 160 days until I move into my RV!

Countdown: 1 day since I woke up hungover!

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