Marianne, I'm no psychiatrist, but your post really struck a cord with me and got me thinking (dangerous.) What we're dealing with here are the five stages of grief.
http://psychcentral.com/lib/the-5-stage ... ief/000617I say we, because, like you, as a longtime daily drinker, alcohol has been my most constant companion, my longest dysfunctional relationship, my friend and my foe, and has at times taken priority over everything in my life.
And now we're attempting to end that relationship, or to change it dramatically. We're trying to cut the cord. We're in the process of saying goodbye. And even if we know it's the best thing, the right thing, it doesn't make it any easier. So of course we go through denial and anger and sadness and depression and isolation and bargaining with ourselves - over and over, until we can reach a level of acceptance and move on.
At least with TSM, it's a gradual process. We're not changing the locks and throwing our beloved's possessions out the window. We may decide eventually that we can actually have a healthy relationship with alcohol, and find other passions and relationships that drive us. Or we may realize that we can never truly enjoy a healthy relationship at all with alcohol, and choose to shut that door permanently.
Right now I don't know which camp I'll fall into. Thanks to Nal, I've had fleeting glimpses of what it might be like to drink like a 'normal' person. To take it or leave it. To have an 'off' switch. But I'm nowhere close to being able to say goodbye completely. And with TSM, we don't have to.
So maybe what you're struggling with, what I'm struggling with, is the fear of having to live without your lifelong best friend for the rest of your life. That we're just procrastinating the inevitable. But that fear may be unfounded - you may not have to say goodbye. We may find down the road, when we've given Nal the 4-6 months to work or however long it takes, that it's not nearly so hard as we fear it will be. We've read the stories of people on this board who have had success with both approaches, either going AF entirely or dramatically cutting back to where they can enjoy a few drinks now and then, and break that daily chain of abuse.
One thing is for sure: we're both doing better today than we were pre-TSM. We have a plan. We don't know yet the outcome of that plan, but if we pay attention, zealously follow the protocol, and be patient with ourselves, at least we have options for changing our lives. Options we didn't have pre-TSM. And that gives me hope. It doesn't relieve all the stages of grief, but it helps to put things in perspective.
Hang in there; as our friends in AA would say, and Eckhardt Tolle for that matter, you're right where you're supposed to be. And I'm saying this to you because I need to hear it for myself.