Day One

Every day is day one. Even day two, or three or six or twenty seven or six hundred and forty eight. They are all day one. Today is day one.

You get up and think this is it! It’s day one! And today I will resist. Today I will get through and not be swayed. And sometime you do. Sometimes you get through to the next day, which is day one. And some times you don’t.

Perhaps it was just a little stumble. Not something that anyone would even notice. A glass of wine with a meal. A pint after work with the lads. Nothing unsociable. Nothing extreme. Nothing wrong with that at all. And anyway, tomorrow is day one.

Sometimes it’s a big stumble. A trip and you almost land on your face. It starts off innocent enough. A pint or two on a Saturday lunchtime. Good company. Good laughs.

“Another pint?”

“No I’m full, I’ll have a rum and coke.

Make it large!”

Later…

“Have you been drinking?”

“No!”

“Have you been drinking?”

“No”

“You have, you stink of it!”

“Well just the one”

And more. Lying indolent on the sofa. A few more cans. A nip or two. A bottle!

Tears and angry tweets.

No more sorehead for you matey. No more being sick. It’s night sweats and paranoia. Anxiety attacks in the middle of the day. Inefficient and indifferent. A hair of the dog? No, this is day one! Tomorrow can be day one! Just one drink. Just to take the edge off.

And you fall.

Praying to land on your feet.

In day one.

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