Two weeks! Yeah, baby! It’s my dream to count my sobriety in weeks, months, and (hopefully) years. Now I can at least claim weeks. Sure it’s only two but that’s still plural. I’ll take it.

If you’re reading this and saying, “Big deal.” That’s good. It means your not an alcoholic. I guess the only way you might relate to this is if you gave up verbal communication for two weeks.

“I can’t stop talking! How can I function? How would I get through the day? What will my friends say? Will they shun me because I can’t communicate with them?”

These are the same questions I asked when I quit. Alcohol was part of my life. Giving up my car, my job, my TV – these things are easy. Giving up alcohol seemed impossible.

But it is possible. The cravings haven’t gone away but I’m learning to cope. Little by little, I’m letting people know that I’m trying to change my life. That’s harder for me than it might seem. It’s not that my friends and family are giving me grief. It’s just hard to admit I have a problem. I feel foolish. I’m embarrassed. I’ve pissed in the soup. But the worst part is the nagging fear that I’ll fail. That someday I’ll give in to temptation and hop right off the wagon. Then I’ll just be an even bigger disappointment.

Oh well, I can wallow in self-doubt or I can celebrate two weeks of sobriety. I think I’ll do the latter. I’ll take a nice walk, visit a farmers market, and remember that today is today not yesterday or tomorrow.