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Day...don't ask

I'm tempted to delete than damn Sobriety Tracker app. I've restarted it so many times already and now I'm just ignoring it because if I open it up and look at it I'll be staring at a lie. In summary, I've had seven drinks in the past seven days. Four of the seven were last night alone therefore I'm typing this with a splitting headache.

Last week my therapist and I tried to determine what my triggers are. We came up with nothing. Nada. I'm just a random drinker. A whimsical drunk if you will. Well, that's my interpretation. My therapist doesn't buy that of course.

My therapist would congratulate me on how far I've come so far. And my fiance keeps saying, "proud of you." Never mind that he said that last night while I was downing my fourth drink. And he doesn't do sarcasm. He honestly didn't know I had been drinking. I wasn't trying to hide it either. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

I'm also not sure that I'm proud of myself. Yes, if I look back to a few months ago I was easily drinking twenty-five plus glasses a wine on any given week and now I'm down to seven. That is progress. But it's not perfection.  And that p-word (perfection) just may be the underlying cause that drives me to the p-word (pinot) that I love so much.






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