On the wagon

As of yesterday, it's been four weeks since I've had a drink. I'm just slightly proud of that, and I'm still trying to figure out why.

There are several reasons why I've stopped drinking.

1. One of my parents was a brutal alcoholic.
2. Prove to myself I could stop.
3. I hate the gut.
4. When I drink, I treat the rest of my family like shit and separate from them. (I didn't realize how bad this was until I stopped.)
5. Insomnia. (Didn't realize how bad this one was, either.)
6. Lack of energy/motivation.

Those are a few. Since I've stopped drinking, I've been more productive at work and my level of physical strength and drive has doubled.

The one drawback? I'm having trouble staying motivated when it comes to fiction. I keep thinking of all the stuff that my family needs me to do. However, I'm committed to fixing this. I've gotten too far to stop. 

I didn't make any big announcement about not drinking. But most of my friends and family have figured it out by what I consume and don't consume in their presence.

It was interesting to discover at least one major urge for drinking. I really didn't think I had any -- until the day that I learned I may have to travel to a conference for work, which is something I really, really hate to do. I don't mind traveling for fun, but traveling for work, being away from my family, and having to dress up in a suit is just horrible.

As feelings of dread washed over me, that's the craving hit, badly, right in my gut.

Was I, or am I an alcoholic? I'm not sure. I haven't had any sort of withdrawal that I can think of. But of the reasons listed above, the top one and number four are the biggest. And I never want to be in the position of being asked or forced to stop.

I remember as a kid having to call the police when shit would go down at home. As a parent now myself, I've never personally flown so far off the handle. But I've had thoughts, and that's not a place I want to go.