Mildly Interesting

I had trouble stopping for a good while, then one day I realized it was Saturday morning and I was out for a walk on a chilly, sunny day and I felt good. It was like a switch flipped. In a flood I realized that I had trapped myself in a habit I didn't even like any more. My health had already suffered a bit from it, and the upside of having a ton of friends and family at gatherings cracking open a few had faded, friends moved on as they do, family expanded and the growing complexity of it all made alcohol an anchor rather than a buoy, and it went from a catalyst for fun to a stress factor that only had downsides.

I realized those old days were gone. My cousin wasn't going to hurl over the railing at my other cousin's wedding reception while our uncles roasted and toasted him from an open trunk. I wasn't loosening up in the hopes of talking to a cute girl at a party. I was sitting alone in my basement on a Saturday with a jug of questionable vintage, drinking because there was in that habit a faint recollection of good times past, and a compulsion that was just strong enough to keep me there, but weak enough to fly under the radar.

I love a fizzy club soda. I love a cup of mint tea. I love feeling the day as it happens, the drag of a bad time felt fully ricochets into the actual good feeling of an accomplishment, however small.

It's not a tough choice any more, because I've seen it in the light of day... But it's still there.

Also, to echo another poster, you CAN do it.