Harry's Doubt

After more than three weeks of sobriety, I muse about an alcohol-free life after January. Shall I, Shall I not, Shall I, Shall I…. Normally I'm not a doubter, why am I now? One of the definitions of doubt is 'not being able to choose between possibilities'. To come to a decision, lists are needed, with the advantages and disadvantages of drinking alcohol. Without writing them down, I immediately know that the list of disadvantages of drinking is many times longer than the benefits of drinking alcohol. However, the benefits of drinking, the pink blanket, the frayed edges of the day that come off, the aches, physical and mental, disappear like an ice cube in a glass of white wine, outweigh the risk of esophagus…, heart disease, and on the long-lived Korsakov. Drinking gives a chance to these ailments, the pink blanket is there immediately.

Yet if I stop to think about the thoughts and be very honest with myself, then it is wiser to leave it alone from now on. But as I write, doubts strike again and I build in a back door, because I will soon be sixty and you have to celebrate that, and that beautiful sunset on the Mekong River, you can have a beer with that (note the abbreviation ).

Also, I know deep down that it's just better to stop, or could I curb it this time until the special moments and occasions. Again the doubt. And so it goes back and forth. Shall I defy fate and then experience it as my destiny? Or shall I pick up the sword and fight King Alcohol?

I'm very much leaning towards the latter, but I'm not convinced yet. Luckily I still have a week for my own mindfuck and to decide. Good luck with your last week, your mind fuck and decision.

Harry