Can you want two conflicting things simultaneously?

To me, the answer is strikingly obvious.

Yes.

I want sobriety. I’ve begged for sobriety. There have been moments where I have been down on my knees begging to not need that drink. Crying deep, stomach-churning sobs that have made every inch of my body convulse with the desperate need to take that drink, but also to stop myself.

Then comes that heartbreaking moment when you open it and take that very first swig. The relief that you did it, followed almost immediately by the painful betrayal of knowing you didn’t want to do it at all.

I want to drink.

Sugar-coating weakness, sugar-coating a basic necessity, is abhorrent in my own self-interest. Because there is something about that moment alcohol touches your lips. The first gulp. The feeling as it gently, smoothly moves through you. The almost instant relief of knowing you got what you wanted.

It’s like a child crying to get a toy from a shop because, within that tiny two-minute window of seeing it, it is suddenly all they have ever wanted. We all know as parents that had they not seen that bloody toy, they probably wouldn’t have given a single thought to wanting it.

And then there is the conflict.

The deep-rooted part of yourself that knows you really don’t want to drink. The part that understands the poison you are using to infiltrate your own body. The body that has carried you through life, through situations, through childhood, adolescence, adulthood, education, careers, relationships and marriage.

You are a vessel. A worthy vessel who can give so much to the people around you, but more importantly, to yourself. You owe yourself health. You owe yourself care. You owe yourself love.

And yet there is the contradiction.

Even now, whilst going through a detox that I begged for, I want a drink.

I want to go back to it.

And I feel so ungrateful for those feelings. I despise myself for even giving headspace to such a hideous contemplation. Hatred evolves from conflict, whatever that conflict may be. Hatred breeds slowly and consumes vigorously.

To say now, when I am almost one week in, that I am cured would be detrimental and ludicrous. But somehow, sitting here and admitting that I want an alcoholic drink feels like a betrayal beyond measure. After the effort. The time. The process. The team who do everything in their power to give you the safety to withdraw.

It makes me feel dirty. Disgusted. Undeserving.

But perhaps those feelings themselves are another contradiction I need to understand.

Because I want to stop drinking so desperately that there have been times I would have given up a body part to make this dependence disappear.

And I want a drink.

Both can exist.

Both do exist.

Perhaps now it is up to me to understand why those conflicting desires exist and put the work in to pacify an invisible contradiction. Because life is full of contradictions. Would we even be human if we did not contradict ourselves?

My battle is only beginning.

A battle I’m certain I am ready for, even if I don’t know it yet.