You awaken with a start, drenched in sweat, heart racing. A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s 2:18 am. You begin to piece together the events from the night before. One glass of chardonnay turned into two, which turned into a bottle. The way your head is pounding and your stomach is churning you know that it didn’t end once the bottle was empty. You remember picking a fight with your partner over something stupid and then flipping on the TV (loudly) when he wouldn’t engage. Then….nothing. You can’t remember what show you watched or how you got into bed. The rest of the night is erased. 

The voice comes next. You know the one. The voice that tells you you’re a failure for drinking again when you swore you wouldn’t. The voice that reminds you of all the times you’ve failed before. The voice that convinces you that you are broken in a way no one else on this planet is broken and makes you believe that you will never be free of the chains this substance has wound around your life. You know this voice well. It’s the same voice that’s been telling you for years that you’re weak-willed for not being able to get it under control. Every time you’ve tried to make a change or do something bold, it’s told you that you’re too stupid or too proud, too heavy or too thin, too loud or too quiet. It speaks in extremes and it seeks to destroy your confidence and self-compassion. It tries to beat you into submission. It tries to keep you small. And you listen because you believe that this is the only way to get better. The only way to improve is to berate yourself until you feel so badly about yourself that you magically transform. Except you never do transform. Or if you do, it only lasts a day, or a week, or, if your resolve is unusually strong, an excruciating month.