It took me a long time to fundamentally, deeply, without a hint of doubt admit to myself that for me, there is no such thing as “one” drink.

I love the high I get from this drug. I love it so much that my body started to crave it.

I often wonder if the feeling of my high was that much better than someone else’s high, who can manage to have just one.

I’m in awe of people who can have just one and be totally fine—that woman who can sip a glass of Chardonnay for two hours and feel totally satisfied.

I would love the opportunity to feel what she feels drinking that first glass and compare it. Maybe I would think, “No wonder she can take or leave it. That doesn’t come close to the way that I feel!”

Wouldn’t that make sense? If it was only about self-control, then that would suggest we all “feel” the same thing. Well, what if the feeling that woman gets feels like a three on the euphoria scale and mine feels like an eight?

The feeling each one of us experiences from ingesting one glass of wine is subjective. For some reason, this helps me wrap my head around those who can have one drink. They still amaze me.

I’m still amazed by the amount of bandwidth I used thinking about drinking—trying to control and hide my drinking, trying to battle with the voices: drink, don’t drink, drink, don’t drink. All of the energy I spent on recovering from hangovers, hangxiety, and insomnia. So much wasted time trying to fight the fact that I needed to just not drink that first drink was exhausting and draining on me mentally, physically, and emotionally.

Deciding to live my life alcohol-free has gifted me the feeling of serenity. There are no more decisions to be made. There are no more negotiations to make, no more strategies to plan, no more broken promises to hate myself for.