3.5 Years Into Sobriety and I Still Want That Glass of Wine

The smell of a good, full-bodied red had me peering over the edge of my wagon

My best friend is home visiting Michigan from California. We see each other once a year if we’re lucky. Definitely not often enough. She’s the sister I never had. We always pick up right where we left off, every time we’re together.

She’s the one constant in my life for the past 25 years and our friendship isn’t reliant on anything but pure platonic love and support.

She lives a much different lifestyle than I do and you can tell by the clothes she wears and the wine she drinks.

I’m strong in my sobriety these days, but never overly confident. I know all too well how easy it is to relapse. Addiction is the toughest game of mental gymnastics I’ve ever participated in.

I opened the door to the house and was embraced with wide open arms. Laughter and warmth filled the air as her large, loud family visited, ate good food, and played games.

The wine was flowing freely and I didn’t think much of it. That was until I caught a whiff. I inhaled deeply and slowly, allowing the aroma of her full-bodied red to engulf my entire face.

I subconsciously inched my way toward her drink like a hungry cheetah ready to pounce on its prey and devour it like it hadn’t eaten in a week.

The smell of her wine was instant nostalgia; a warm embrace from my old friend alcohol inviting me back into her arms like a siren seducing a sailor at sea. I was entranced and wanted so badly to drink the poison she offered up so effortlessly.

Of course, my friend then asked me if I was okay with them drinking and I said nonchalantly, “Yeah girl, no problem. It’s cool.”

It usually was cool, but I couldn’t trust myself that night. I slowly backed away from the wine that I had gotten way too close to. I hadn’t felt this triggered since my first year of sobriety.

At one point, I thought that maybe I’d steal a quick sip while no one was looking. Just for a taste.

I just wanted a taste.

You can take the girl out of the addiction, but never the addiction out of the girl. Wait. That’s not how the saying goes…

I enjoyed the rest of my visit and drove home with no regrets. I did not fall off the wagon but was reminded just how easily I could. Hell, there are days I want to jump off the wagon and set that fucking thing on fire.

But I won’t. Because the days I want to jump off are few and far between. They still pop up to remind me that I’m not a person who can have just a taste.

I never have been.

And it’s not going to change now. I’m just wondering at what point, if ever, I will never want a glass of wine.