Good choice, Rack-a-Bones. I’m coming up on three years sobriety myself, and I cannot emphasize to you how much better my life is now that I’ve quit. Alcohol was my great stagnater, and now I can think and function and discover old hobbies and new ones, and better myself, and I’ve lost 40 pounds, and it is WONDERFUL.
My advice: take inventory of all of your stumbling blocks. You probably drink for a reason, even if you don’t know what it is. Social fear and low self esteem were mine. I couldn’t learn to fix them right away, so I learned to endure them and avoid them, and that kept me sober. Now I’m working on fixing them.
If at first you don’t succeed, try try again. Find out what works and what doesn’t. What gets you to three days? What helps you make it to two weeks? A month? Eventually, you’ll work out enough coping skills to make it to freedom.
Consider counseling, AA (or other support group), or both if you can. I’m an atheist. I went to AA meetings four times a week, did not work the steps, but sat and listened and used it as a reminder that “I will not drink today.” It helped me in a big way. Days when I could not make it to a meeting, I used other coping skills.
Learn to say these words: I am an alcoholic. Then, tell people. Go on. Tell your family, the people you go out with. Hell, if the subject comes up, I tell my co-workers. Enough people know that it would be impossible for me to take a drink in most any public capacity without someone expressing concern. Eventually, the phrase will become, “I am a recovered alcoholic.”
Learn about liver disease and cirrhosis. Not everyone gets to see it up close and personal like me (I’m a nurse), but learn what you can. It’s a horror show that will stick with you. And if possible, don’t learn by pretty diagrams. Learn the shit. Learn the blood. Learn the delirium and agonizing screaming of hepatic encephalopathy. Learn the liver transplant doctor leaving a little opening in your giant chest incision, and each morning, he takes his gloved finger and shoves it in deep to check for inflammation. I’ve seen more tough guys cry than I can count.
Most of all, good luck.