Funny what a year of stone-cold sobriety will do to a person. It gave me clarity, a renewed spirit and a sense of accomplishment.

But it also smacked me upside the head with delusional bravado.

Right before New Years, I patted myself on the back, proud of my achievement. No, I didn’t hike the Andes or scale Mt. Everest, but the fact I remained booze-free for the last 364.5 days was empowering. And with power comes great responsibility, mind you.

Too bad I wasn’t prepared for what came next.

At some point on New Year’s Eve, I rationalized that I had enough gumption/self-control to start enjoying ONE glass of wine a day, you know, if I wanted it. Looking back, it was a pact with the devil. I still eschewed liquor, because liquor could get me in trouble, right? But for some reason I assumed white wine was harmless enough. It was calling my name, but I could handle it. Yes, 100 percent handled, I thought.

My new motto? “Everything in moderation—including moderation.” What’s the worst that could happen?

The next three days happened.

My dalliance with wine lasted three days. In less than 72 hours, I was back to my old booze-y, bender-y habits. It started off as one delightfully chilled glass of Chilean Chardonnay while on vacation. By Day 3, I hadn’t just fallen off the wagon. Nope, the wagon was attached to runaway horses who were about to careen off a cliff—à la Thelma & Louise.

Funny what three days of binge-drinking will do to a person. It gave me uncontrollable guilt, immense regret, oh, and a death knell hangover.

But it also smacked me upside the head with the eye-opening realization that I should have never attempted such a bonehead move in the first place. Do I have a problem with alcohol? Yep—and that’s unfortunate. Do I have willpower? Clearly. Fickle, aren’t I? On January 2nd of this year, it all came to a head and I stopped drinking—all over again.

Forget self-restraint. Forget moderation. Neither work for me. Lesson learned, and mercifully not the hard way. Lord knows this coulda been ugly. And you can bet that when January 1, 2018 rolls around this year, I’ll be stocked up with a palette of club soda and limes. Safety first, people. Sanity and self-awareness—a close second.