Drunk and Brooding

The bottle and a half of wine sitting in the house since Thanksgiving finally got the best of me tonight. Funny, I have a case of beer in the fridge and I don't pay it any mind. But that bottle of wine hidden in the back of the cupboard calls to me like a seductive lover.
After Saturday's two-bottle binge, I didn't think I'd drink for quite some time. I didn't sober up until Sunday night. Monday was the first day of clarity. Tuesday was better. Today sucked.
Been reading sobriety blogs. Scary. I've spent a lot of time over the past month telling myself there is no way I could be an alcoholic. I'm a successful professional. I'm a mommy. I'm the person everyone goes to when their world is falling apart. I am the glue that holds my team, my family and my friends together. I'm the voice of reason, the responsible one, the capable one. How can I be an alcoholic, a slave to the bottle? Not me; no way.
And then I read these blogs, especially the "drunk mommy" blogs dedicated to alcoholic moms. And their stories are too close to mine. They aren't degenerates with criminal records and broken relationships. They have it all together on the outside, and like me, they fall apart on the inside when they are all alone and no one is watching.
That's what happened today. Sunday and Monday were easy days not to drink. My husband was off work and hanging around the house. Tuesday, I had an event to attend after work that ran until late in the evening. But today, today was quiet. I worked from home (didn't even need to get out of my pajamas), but felt busy and occupied -- until my husband left for work. I lasted about an hour before I cracked open the bottle of wine. Instead of having dinner, I finished the half-bottle left over from the weekend.
Now I'm here...feeling defeated, a failure...but too drunk to do anything about it. So I'm drinking water, lots of water, in hopes of being sober by the time my husband gets home. If not, then I hope to be in bed so he doesn't notice.