I thought that the will to act, the steps taken to face the issue, would somehow support the combat against my addiction.
It does not.
Since I took that appointment at the addiction clinic, since I had my first meeting with a very sweet nurse who was 1000% more receptive and convincing than the former "mental health professionals" I've consulted with, I had hoped confronting my issues & deciding to address them would be a first step into helping myself. A first step into reducing, even if minimally, my daily intake. Or make me at ease with the concept of living without a bottle hidden in my rucksack.
It does not.
I'm more stressed out. I'm in constant panic attacks. I'm physically sick if I don't have access to the stuff. And I'm feeling like I drink twice as much. Which I'm probably doing.
I know it's a process, a life-changing one. I know there'll be a grief period; she told me. She told me I'm the only one able to do it. No magic, no technology. Just me.
Just me and that liquid shit.
You've got this brother. Those feelings, that anxiety, that means you're on the right track. Its definitely going to get harder before it gets better. But it will. Just take it one day at a time. You've got this.