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It got hard again, and I'm not happy about it

Monday 18/12/2017
I have no idea how I made it through this weekend.
I was completely mental.
I went to an AA meeting yesterday, I got there early as was going completely insane, then I sat outside in the sun with some other members, all male.  I’ve only talked to them a few times and have only been going to this meeting around every other Sunday because I’ve not really been feeling the need that bad until now.
What I wanted was to be at the beach enjoying the day without sitting there in the sun, crying over how bad I want to drink. 
The good news is I didn’t drink, but the fact is I fought it all weekend.  I had to daily make a decision to walk past the pub, the lawn-bowls club… to not go and gate crash my neighbour’s house party on Saturday night.
It was horrendous.
I want the cravings to go away.  I don’t want to have to talk to myself, literally talk myself out of drinking for days at a time.
I don’t want this to be this hard.  Please God, please remove the desire to drink alcohol from me.
I even tried a new Meetup.com event that was for people suffering from some sort of mental disorder – be it depression etc. because I need to meet new people and I need the event to not centre on the shared consumption of alcohol. The invite said we could bring a board-game.  I thought ok why not try this?  So I brought Scrabble and my tarot cards into a room full of very boring people.  No one interested in playing scrabble, in fact I don’t think any board games were played.
I read two people’s tarot cards and had a nice chat with one of them and then decided to go home.  Everyone else were just sitting in circles talking to each other.  These people obviously already all knew one another. 
At least I tried right?  I tried.
I got home to the whole street where I live lit up on something.  First there was the pub, I thought about going.  What is the harm in one my brain said?  Except one is never enough my mind then answered back, I kept walking.
I turned the corner to hear the lawn bowls place going off.  Even better my brain said, CHEAP wine!
I kept walking.
I got up to my apartment, told Sean on messenger that the party sucked and I was already at home.  I gave it 2 hours.  I wanted to leave after 5 minutes.  I think I did my best.  Elf was on TV, I had never seen it so watched it.  I thought it was a little funny, whatever it kept me from drinking.

Tuesday 19/12/2017
Sunday I did my normal thing.  I got up and went to Yoga at 9, ate some poached eggs on toast for brekkie.  I was going to go to the beach and spend the whole day tanning and enjoying myself but I couldn’t.  I had to go to another meeting and the only one I knew exactly how to get to was the 2:30 one, which meant I had to also miss Laura’s dance event she said I could go to… but I knew if I didn’t go to this meeting the likelihood that I’d end up at a pub getting wasted was like 99%.
So I made it through Sunday, just…
I made it through Monday too, I went to yoga.  I meditated.  I still wanted to drink though.  I still had to actively say no to my head.
What does this mean?
I don’t know if this is just my experience but the brain tells me that after 70 days of not drinking this thing should not be hard?  So why is it?
It is probably more than one thing.
I mean I’ve already begun to see massive achievements in the feeling better department.  I am occasionally looking for a sugar fix, but for the most part I eat okay, I am losing weight, I am sleeping somewhere between 6 and 7 hours a night.  I am sleeping marginally better but not exactly as good as I hope I will eventually sleep.
And then it starts.
So I feel better now, I can have a few drinks.  I won’t go back to where it was, I’ve learned! 
This is utter bullshit and where does my mind come up with this information?
How many times do I need to stop drinking, and then start drinking again to see that it very quickly becomes more than a few glasses of wine to un-wind, it becomes a bottle of gin sitting next to my bed that I drink from when I inevitably wake up in the middle of the night.  And it happens every night.  It will soon be me hardly holding in food and throwing up half of what I do eat.

How does my brain not remember this when it pushes me, seriously PUSHES me to think it is okay to have a drink?

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