One step forward, two steps back

I had a drink on my birthday. I thought that would be the end of it. At least, I thought that would be the end of it until something really important and special would come up, somewhere in the future, sometime far away, sometime not soon. But six days later I had a celebratory lunch for my 5 years of service to my company and for my birthday, where I had a glass of champagne. And then the next day while out on Fire Island for my first time this year I had a celebratory Planter's Punch. And then the next day while out celebrating Pride Sunday in NYC I had three, yes THREE drinks at the bar.

After a crap night of sleep I woke up Monday - today - with what I can only describe as a hangover. It was not how I remember them to be, but far worse. Before I only had the memory of them. They were something in my past that I remembered never wanting to have again. I thought I had them beat. But there I was, sitting at work, headache, queasy stomach, crankiness and what I can only describe as the feeling of alcohol withdrawal. My body was not happy with me.

And I've had a myriad of emotions running through my head as I have reviewed my decision to have a few drinks: I feel that I've failed myself. I had gone sixteen months without having a drink. SIXTEEN months! And after all those months with the incessant inquiries and explanations about why I'm not drinking and why I'm choosing to continue not drinking and the multitude of times where I've had to fight the urge to not drink and endure evenings around alcohol and put up with drunk people and not see friends because I wasn't going to bars and finally coming to a peace about not drinking and accepting my fate and being happy about it and putting in hours and hours at the gym and working harder than I've ever worked for anything in my entire life, after all that, I fell off the proverbial wagon.

I don't have a career or big accomplishments in my life. I can't say that I've done anything amazing, or gone anywhere special. The only thing I've accomplished recently that's made me feel good about myself were those sixteen months. And I feel like I threw it all away.

I've been sad and depressed all day about it. I just wish I could be like everybody else. I want to be like all the other people around me who don't think about drinking. It's just a casual thing that happens to them. It's not an all-consuming "should I do this, what are the repercussions of this, will this ruin my life" type of thought pattern. I want it to not be a big deal when I decide to not drink. I don't want people to ask why, I just want it to be normal. "I choose not to drink liquor, don't ask me about it, just shut up and drink your drink and let me sip my seltzer water and when you're wasted and we're not having a feasible conversation any longer I shall go home and you and everybody else can just stay out in the bars having fun without me while I go home and sulk and it will be fine."

So now what? I have no idea. I'm exhausted at the thought of what to do. To admit sadness about the week seems to say that I'm ashamed of it, that I was beat and couldn't continue on. To admit happiness about the week is to say that the sixteen months of sobriety I've had were a futile experiment. I feel like it's a no-win situation.

I guess in everything we do we are meant to learn something. I'd like to know what I'm supposed to take away from all this. Maybe it's too soon for me to realize the lesson.