Day 3.

I passed the forty-eight hour mark without incident, and I felt pretty good about myself.  It gets easier now, I thought.  At least physically.  The sweating and shaking start to go away, the energy level builds.  I probably would be able to eat some real food.  I knew that if I made it through the third day, 90% of the physical pain would be gone.  However, without the physical pain taking up all of your waking thoughts, the mind kicks into a different gear. The lower dose of Librium doesn't provide a noticeable feeling of relief anymore. There is no 'high'.  Thoughts of drinking return.  You enter the danger zone, a place where many people give back in to the bottle.  It's peculiar like that.  You make it through all of the pain of acute withdrawal, then pick up a drink.  I had done it countless times.  Why, I could not tell you.  But it happens.  A lot.

This time, I was determined to consciously attack this process.  I found a piece of paper and decided to write down everything that went through my mind that gave me permission to drink again. When it's there in front of you, out in the open, it's not as dangerous.  It is exposed.  So that is what I did, all of Saturday and into Sunday.  And let me tell you, I needed a couple of more pieces of paper.  I even surprised myself with some of the schemes that I came up with.  The seventy-two hour mark came and went and I continued to add to my list.  I thought about my children.  My girlfriend.  My family.  Even things like self-esteem and health.  Holy crap, I thought,  I am serious here about not wanting to drink.  I went into day four fully engaged in battle with myself.  But, for the first time I could remember, I didn't want to give up.