I acted out last night while at home alone. Beth was at class, Emma was with her grandparents, and the other kids were with their dad. I didn't want to act out, but I did. And I don't know that I even got any pleasure out of it. All the guilt and none of the pleasure ... Satan is a master bargainer.
I read the following reflection today on Hazelden's website and thought I would share it with you:
"Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. Commencing to drink after a period of sobriety, we are, in a short time, as bad as ever. If we have admitted we are alcoholics, we must have no reservations of any kind, nor any lurking notion that some day we will be immune to alcohol. What sort of thinking dominates an alcoholic who repeats time after time the desperate experiment of the first drink? Parallel with sound reasoning, there inevitably runs some insanely trivial excuse for taking the first drink. There is little thought of what the terrific consequences may be." Have I given up all excuses for taking a drink?
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