On the Wagon-an alcoholics dairy

Day one

The first of November. The first day of a new month. A chance for a fresh start. A clean slate. A time to turn over a new leaf. Last night, I did something I know will never happen again, never. I got totally and utterly off my head, I got so slammed drunk, I got completely lamp shaded. One pint of vodka and three glasses of wine was never going to leave me with a clear head. I’m surprised I’m not dead. That is the last time I am ever drinking vodka again.

I made a resolution this morning, after I woke up with a splitting headache, like my head had been sawn open, and a terrible, dire, awful stomach ache. I felt like I had been run over by a bus followed by a lorry and dragged ten miles under the wheels. All the acid and alcohol sloshing around in my poor, abused stomach like the glass of a drunken person in their tipping hand.

I am going to go, for the month of November, without a single drop of alcohol, that heavenly poison, touching my lips. I drink a glass of wine about three times a week, sometimes more; my average weekly intake is about 18 units, not overly exceeding the government’s guidelines of 14 a week, for a woman. But none-the-less, I am giving it up. Not only binging, but all alcohol.

Last night was terrible, I blacked out. I can’t remember a thing for the 7 hours I was at the party. Seven hours of drunkenness, letting my body and mind do their own thing while my consciousness took a back seat in the drive towards sobriety. That’s not going to happen again.

No, for these 30 days and nights, I will not let myself be seduced by the rich, ripe red of molten happiness, nor will that devious amber liquid of white wine pass my lips. Not one drop of creamy, smooth, golden baileys will go into my body. A tipple of jack Daniels, love in liquid form, will not touch my lips. And I will not, defiantly not, drink a single sip of the devils drink pass my poor pink lips. No vodka which tastes of broken glass and toilet cleaner will be drunk straight, not now, not again, never.

This is day one on the wagon.