Tag Archives: alcoholic

Made it to my new home! Let the real work begin…

13 Oct

3:16 am

I definitely sense the fact that getting sober and maintaining sobriety only starts after several months of not drinkin’. I drank both yesterday and the night before (two beers, and then two beers, and then two beers), but it’s OK. Onward and upward; I refuse to give up. And the thick, wonderful air of the [beautiful island where I now live]; the lush foilage; the night sky packed with stars; the near-roar of the coqui frogs — these have my back, too. 😉

Anyway, I’m tired and happy and somewhat overwhelmed. Haven’t written in a few days, but that’s more due to the fact of being in literal transit for the past 48 hours than not having a ton to recount, rehash, and wonder about re: sobriety.

Some points I’d like to cover in the next few posts:

1. Making amends with assholes. Seriously. My brother’s girlfriend responded, as I said in another post, viciously to my attempt — a very sincere one — to say I was sorry. I don’t necessarily know how to deal with that. However, now I realize:

2. Sobriety and letting go is REAL. It’s real in that you are clear-headed enough to make a sincere choice to have — or NOT — certain people in your life. Not only do I see what I was, and what I was doing, I see what “they” are and what they’ve been doing. I believe the past however many months of practicing and then actually becoming (becoming is the key word here) sober has lent me a newfound clarity and confidence when it comes to judging situations, making choices, and (more) calmly standing up for what I’m thinking rather than second-guessing myself. I have to stop caring about what others think, even if they’re family, and I have to let people who have equally nasty issues in their lives deal with them on their own. I don’t have to carry their burdens. I can care about them, but I don’t have to carry them. And, I don’t have to take abuse; I can shrug it off and move on, happily. I can choose who remains in my life, just as they can choose whether or not they want to “forgive and forget.”

3. Drinking “normally” again is possible, but I think my choice will be sobriety. I’ve learned so much the past few months, and I’ve become so much stronger, mentally and emotionally, that left at that, it’s almost a no-brainer. The clincher, what really convinces me, is the fact that I really don’t NEED to drink, to alter my reality such that it’s blurred, or “more exciting,” or whatever. Drinking is basically really quite boring.

I drank again, two beers the night before last with a friend I hadn’t seen in a long time, then two on the flight from O’Hare to Miami, and then two last night with dinner. I felt really tipsy, and it was irritating. I felt full. I felt somewhat stupid. I wanted to shake it out of my head. And, as is always the case with beer, I can’t do more than two before my brain turns off the “want beer now” switch. Thankfully, I have an off switch when it comes to beer. Anyway…there is just a BIG something to be said for not being beholden to or obsessed by wine. It’s a prison, and this mentality affects every aspect of my day, my mind, and my character.

4. Speaking of characteristics, drinking causes depression. Duh. Yet, overdrinking is definitely circumstantial, too.

5. Fear of intimacy was a huge trigger for me, including relationships and sex. I’ve known this for a long time, but it relates to this fact: getting over what seem to be huge mental and emotional hurdles helps one stay sober in that the process of doing this stuff while sober sort of takes away the obsession (which is based, for me anyway, in fear) to drink.

Enough for tonight. I have to get some rest as this weekend will be more transitioning, unpacking, settling into a new life (gulp). I only cried once since leaving [cold west coast city] last Wednesday — well, twice, but once was crying because my hangover kicked my ass so hard — and that was more a release for the past upsetting week spent with my dad. Lots of weird drama there, but that’s for another post, too.

Good night, friends!

Day 7…AGAIN…and zero desire to drink

9 Oct

11:38 am

For real! And, considering the fact that I’ve been doing the family thing AND dealing with my brother and his cuckoo bird of a girlfriend…I feel pretty strong!

BRING IT!

Actually, what I think it is — and I don’t want to knock abstinence, because I’m closer than EVER to believing in it — is that I caved, tried my drinking shoes on again (and again), and they were so very, horribly uncomfortable. In fact, I couldn’t even walk in them. So, now that I’ve found that out, I can move forward, knowing that the cravings will lead to no good.

I am, however, the type of personality that needs to see for myself. Experiment. I’m curious, a scientist. I don’t think that falling off the wagon oh, six or seven times in the past 90 days is necessary for everyone to succeed at abstinence.

Anyhoo, I’m here, seeing family and feeling pretty solid. My favorite aunt is in town, and she surprised us by being at my grandma’s when my dad and I popped over for a visit yesterday! AWESOME. She’s just one of those aunts who was always cool, young, hip, a friend. NORMAL. (My brothers and I needed normal back in the day.) She’d come over and give us kids massive hugs (her 5-foot, 100-pound frame doing little to belie her huge heart) when we were growing up within a very dysfunctional household. She and her sister don’t really get along with my dad, and my step-mom doesn’t really get along with either of them, and my dad has never really gotten over his own mother leaving them when they were kids and committing suicide… And now, my brother has basically condoned his girlfriend’s hate-mail to me the other day (more on that later, re: making amends and what you do when someone responds viciously to your attempt at that), and he and his girlfriend hate my father, but everyone, it seems, ranges from extreme dislike to extreme disappointment at my brother’s choice of partner…

Like I said, I’m feeling strong! LOL All I can do is make my way, remain standing tall, smile, and continue to express myself such that everyone knows that I care, I’m still doin’ my thing, and once I leave Breederville again, I’ll neither hate nor look back. I’ll just love. Everyone. For everything they gave me. Even all the dysfunctional, bad stuff.

Off the box. Must write/work now, get some sort of cardio in (ugh, feels like my heart is beating out of my chest from lack of exercise), and then off on another awkward lunch with my dad. Do I bring up his depression (we’re pretty sure he is an actual case of bipolar disorder), and his choices/future, what he’s doing about it? Ugh. I don’t know. It’d be SO much easier to just let it go, just be there for him. Yet…I feel like that would be letting it sit, fester. I don’t know.

At least the farm is peaceful and calm.

Made it to my dad’s! The fall colors look a bit brighter…

8 Oct

11:28 am

than they used to, looking out from my childhood bedroom window. (Yes, I stay in the room I slept in from the years 5 to 14 when I come home!)

I grew up on a dairy farm in [Corn Belt state], and I’m staying here for a few days. It’s been over 3 years since I’ve been “home home,” so this feels…good. Necessary. Time.

And, we’re making our way through the “so, you quit drinking” conversations, which tend to get even more awkward still because, well, let’s just say my dad is not the least awkward person in the world or the most expressive. BUT, that’s for another post, and I only have a few minutes before I have to do some work and then head out to see my grandma.

Last night, I got a very nasty Facebook mail from my brother’s girlfriend, I think EVEN TOPPING the level of nasty that I threw her way during my drunken blackout on New Year’s Eve. The fact that she has mental problems is one thing (ironic, isn’t it, that someone would get drunk and call me a “stupid worthless cunt who no man will ever love” and tell me to “die” when what she’s pissed about, supposedly, is me getting drunk and calling her the same kind of names = crazybird). It’s an entirely other thing that my brother made excuses for her, didn’t even apologize, and barely gave me a heads-up to look out for a message from her on FB yesterday when we talked on the phone. Yep, sobriety is a journey, and I don’t hold grudges, BUT…I can say — at least at the moment — that I don’t want her or HIM in my life anymore. At all. And maybe it took this drama and getting sober to realize how spineless and well, pathetic they both seem to have become. (And, it’s not that I’m saying that without having thought loads about it; I think I’ve finally decided that some people are worth it, and some aren’t. And, that includes biological family.)

(Also, I drank non-alcoholic wine the other night, and really didn’t like it. I felt the slightest hint of a buzz, but then I thought it might have been psychosomatic. In any case, I can say, going on day 6 again, I don’t really feel like being buzzed. I didn’t like the feeling the other night, of possibly being buzzed, and I hope that is significant and lasts.)

Wow. I will post a pic or two of the fall colors here. Gorgeous! I know I wasn’t born here, but I am OF here. Heart.

You’re ALL supposed to be on my blogroll…

5 Oct

2:32 pm

…but, you’re not! Must fix this tonight.

(For some reason — maybe I should tweak my widgets? — some of the AWESOME blogs by all of my AWESOME, ROCK-SOLID, INSPIRING sober bloggers aren’t showing up in my blogroll. This will change soon!)

On that note, I made it through one dinner sober while others were drinking, have to make it through another big one tonight, and then possibly one tomorrow night (which may not include booze, I’m not sure yet). THEN, I get to spend a LONG three whole days with my dad and step-mom in [Corn Belt state], where I must admit, the white wine in a box will definitely be calling my name.

BUT, hey, cravings come and cravings go. This is a fact. One that I really, well, approve of. (Yes, there are facts in life I don’t particularly approve of.) AND, I can do this. I really can. Last night, the whiff of wine made me feel sick, so I’m hoping even the IDEA of box wine makes me go, Oh, HELLS NO.

I have so many new insights I’d like to share re: this sobriety thing, but I must get outside today. It snowed here in [western state] last night, but it’s not too cold out right now. And, I really need to walk out some of the tension in my back. Good news is that the leg pain is subsiding = whew. Pretty soon, I think I’ll be able to start running again and get some of the harder-core detoxing and endorphins-releasing going on again! Thank God(dess).

See y’all soon!

Made it to my mom’s! Let the “No, thanks, I’m not drinking” begin!

4 Oct

2:00 pm

Sorry, this post is going to be a little all over the place, but I only have a few minutes to cover yet a lot more ground, another learning experience, and some new insights. I have to say, this ride is, at the very least, an interesting one!

So, “No, thanks, I’m not drinking”. Well, I don’t think I’ll have to be apologizing (why do I feel like that?) for not drinking around my brother and mom. They are extremely supportive of my quitting drinking, but still. Lots of chatting, eating, and general lounging makes for, well, lots of liquids being consumed. Oh, well, I really, REALLY do not want to be hung over here. Oof. NOT fun at this altitude.

Whew, what a frightfully busy past few days, which I’ll blog more about in detail later. In short:

After my trip to Palm Springs and Joshua Tree National Park (heart), I drove back to LAX on Monday and flew home that night. The next day — my last in [cold west coast city], thankfully — I rented a pickup and hauled some boxes to be shipped to the PO, cleaned, sorted, packed, re-sorted, dumped, left shit in my closet, DRANK, and in general, ended my “tenure” in that town on a very familiar — and depressing — note. I can go into it later, but the most important things are: I survived yet another hefty consumption of wine (two bottles = oof); and then, a VERY long next day packing my luggage, dropping lost/left items off (I passed out on my friend, ended up locking him out, and then had to repair the “damage” done by dropping of his left backpack at his offices downtown before heading to the airport yesterday morning = FUCK), giving up keys, catching cabs, flying, and shuttling in vans before I was able to put my head down on a soft pillow and forget about the night before and the early morning hours of dry heaving over my bathroom sink. (That’s happened a handful of times, and usually only after a LOT of alcohol. The worst part, though? Crying about it, because I felt so helpless. It was quite pitiful. BUT, I felt much better afterward and somehow (read: will of steel) made my way through the day.)

I am at my mom’s, and she’s great. I forgot how NICE it is to talk to her; and really, I must say, I feel relatively comfortable talking about my alcohol addiction. The last time I was here — a year ago? — it was obvious I had one, but I was very jumpy and still in denial. I have learned SO much over the past three months; over the course of my (attempts at) quitting, my acceptance of my addiction, my at least hitting a few AA meetings, my re-evaluation of my life and person and choices — my self-imprisonment, as it were. THE BEST THING ONE CAN DO IS ADMIT SHE/HE HAS A PROBLEM. What a positive thing. For some reason, I’m seeing it much differently; as in, if there is a problem, the first step toward solving it (success!) is finding it, defining it, and putting it into terms that can be worked out. When I look at addiction like that, I see nothing wrong or shameful about admitting you have a problem. The opposite, actually. It’s horrible that our society emphasizes the negative aspects of addiction and other “invisible” psychological illness when it’s recognized, rather than the opposite.

Much more to share, but we’ll be doing some stuff together today and then going over to my brother’s for dinner. While I’m still feeling open and revealing about the drinking thing, I’m not sure how much I’ll want to share again and again — my family, ironically, is a big fan of talking about things, in great and honest detail. (Except for me, who hides and keeps secrets. KEPT secrets.) BUT, I’m going to go in and y’know, tell it with pride and with decision: This is what I’ve done and what I’m aiming for the next few months, and I’m really glad about that and well, if you have your doubts, then have them, but I know I can DO THIS.

Thank you all for being there and listening. You are great friends to have on this journey. 🙂

Nothing like a trip to the desert to get the juices flowing…

30 Sep

11:08 pm

And to Tire. Me. Out.

Over the past few days, I not only planned a last-minute — and cheap and fun and perfect — three-day, two-night trip to Palm Springs/Joshua Tree National Park, I went! (What girl who was a teenager in the late 80s/early 90s wasn’t in love with Bono — whatever he wants, I want! — and therefore, Joshua Tree? (Remember the album cover?) Hmm? I dare you to say you weren’t.)

A great “no duh” moment: I realized that planning — and doing — trips like these require that get-up-and-go, that “capable-ness”, that *something* that is so integral to a non-depressed, non-drinking human being, it’s hard to notice it’s even there until it’s gone. It’s like the tarp under your tent, or the roof on your house; integral, foundational. I haven’t taken a trip like this in a long time; I can’t imagine having had that decisiveness, that go-with-the-flow/everything-will-turn-out-fine attitude while drinking. I didn’t even think twice about how much energy or will it would take, I was too busy bouncing off the fucking WALLS when I booked my flights and hotel the DAY BEFORE! I’ve wanted to go to Joshua Tree for as long as I can remember, and Palm Springs (and Desert Hot Springs, for my back) just made sense. Anyway, more on that in another post, to come soon.

(And, man, the trip down was a trip. I was hung over (6th time’s a charm; today is Day 2… AGAIN.) and literally felt it until I dropped into bed at my hotel last night around 10 pm. I had been up since 4, and had gotten only 3 hours sleep. And flew, with a hangover. Flying while hung over should be made illegal; and yet, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve flown NOT with a raging hangover. What sort of masochist am I?)

Long story short, I hiked a lot today — 7 miles — and my back feels great. Not pain-free, but not as bad as even just this morning. I think it’s due to one, the lack of humidity; two, the actual exercise of all those interconnected muscles that seem to be making one another more and more sore with less and less activity; and three, the lack of Hangover From Hell. (I must say, I am committed to getting back on it; that hangover was ridic, and the more I think about what I’ve gained from sobriety, the more I really Want What They’re Having, so to speak. And, the more I know I need it.)

More on all this later, and on some of my thoughts while hiking. I’m beat, and so will leave you with a lone picture of my beloved joshua trees.

And, I’m back…

27 Sep

11:26 pm

I had to take a little break from blogging the past two days, mainly because I’ve been feeling a bit…overexposed. (And busy selling off the rest of my furniture, booking flights, running last-minute errands, working here and there as it goes). Oh, and I also drank. TWICE.

Blarg! IT’S 100% NOT FUN ANYMORE.

I guess I don’t really know how to explain my choice to drink twice this week except for one, I’ve already broken my count so why not, and two, I wanted to “see how it felt.” Usually when I drink, it’s in response to feeling horrible, depressed, and/or desperate! Actually, I can’t remember the last time I drank when I didn’t feel like that. Anyway, I didn’t feel that way Tuesday night or Wednesday night; I felt more or less like I could take it or leave it. (If I’m honest, I think I just WANTED to. BUT, I wasn’t desperate for it.) I haven’t drunk for so long in that mindset that I was like, Well, I wonder how it — drinking — would feel if I actually didn’t go overboard? (I had absolutely no intention of inducing the same kind of hangover I had last week, that I knew.)

Well? It didn’t feel good. In fact, it’s reinforced more my desire to not drink, and to build on what I’ve accomplished both mentally and physically over the past three months. I’m feeling the worst about breaking down, slowly but surely, what I’ve built; I work hard, and I hate to see good work go to waste. KEEP THE FAITH, I keep telling myself. THINK BACK, I say, to all those nights in [cold east coast city], all those days when you were detoxing and feeling shiteous, all those moments you had to fight so hard to not run out and get a bottle. THOSE DAYS ARE GONE. However, I can see them returning if I sneak behind my back and drink once, twice, now three, then four times a week… You can see where it’s headed; so can I.

The first night I ordered Indian food and had three glasses. I was REALLY drunky drunk after just those three, so much so that I could barely think clearly enough to book flights. It was weird; I felt more or less mentally compromised to the point of having no functioning thought process. Not fun. AND, I felt so gross that night. One of those nights where you don’t drink enough to pass out, but you drink enough to feel totally gross, toss and turn, and feel every single ounce of ethanol pass through every single cell of your liver…for hours and hours. AND, I was hung over before I even went to bed. Bleh!

The next night, same thing (with the spicy Indian food), but I downed a whole bottle. I was hung over today, and it was not fun. Not as bad as the other day, but yeah. What stopped me from overdoing it beyond a bottle was the conditioning after last week’s bender (where I blacked out and broke my glasses) — I am literally AFRAID of having a hangover like that again.

So, no, thanks.

I’m not that disappointed, as it’s just another step forward in further convincing myself — and strengthening my resolve — to not drink. If it doesn’t work anymore, there really is zero point in doing it. It’s almost like caffeinated coffee, which for me has become a distant (albeit sweet) memory: back when I had my first panic attack in 2005, I had to stop drinking coffee altogether. The panic attack seemed to have “rewired” my brain, is all I can say. I used to be a coffee FIEND, but now, it just feels like someone turned a radio station to static in my brain. I haven’t had a cup of coffee since that day in November, going on 7 years ago. I would love to, but it just doesn’t work the way it used to. I’d never go back, though, let me tell you. No more ups and downs; no more sour stomach; no more extreme hunger pangs. Sure, I don’t get to get buzzed, but that’s OK, too, especially when it comes to sounding NOT like a total meth-head when I’m talking, interviewing, and/or writing. 😉

So, moving along. Starting over. Realizing that there are big things that need to be passed over and MUCH bigger things that lie in wait. This little hamster-depression-wheel can only whir for so long before LIFE, in all its actual glory, shines through and makes drinking grape water so…boring. (Although, there IS still a small(ish) pocket of brain cells whining in the background, But, maybe… Maybe it was this one time, or maybe it’s PMS fucking with the way it works, or maybe I just need to drink with people, or, I know, maybe I need to drink in a geographical location where the fog particles aren’t messing with the alcohol content…Huh?)

SHUT UP! 😉

(What am I, Gollum? My PRECIOUS. Jesus, get ahold of yourself, woman!)

Humming along…is the party over?

25 Sep

1:04 am

Nothing huge going on here. Which, in a sense, is good. Day 4, people.

I’m finally over my hangover (took at least two days; Jesus). I worked a little, and got into it (a little) with my editor (which makes me nervous, mainly because I don’t have that much alternate income at the moment). I checked out some new glasses frames (to recover the ones I broke; I do things like, buy the same version of what I lost, broke, or demolished while blacked out to make me feel like it didn’t happen — am I alone in this neurotic behavior?). I went to my final contact lens fitting. I sank into a mini-depression the past 24 hours but pulled myself out. I activated my superpowers. I managed to offload/sell a lot of my remaining SHIT today, including some kitchenware to a nice Jordanian woman and to a shy French boy; now, it’s just the bed (I’ve got a potential buyer tomorrow, after which, I’ll run to REI and get another sleeping mat). I talked with both my mom and dad and made plans to visit each en route to the [beautiful island where I now live] next month. I oven-baked some pretty awesome potatoes. As I was talking to my dad, I overheard the football game in the background and was like, OK, that’s enough football for me for the season. 😉

I’m ready to move, but I’m also feeling…many things that cause me anxiety. (I would usually drink at this point, for sure.) What, pray tell?

1. The [cold west coast city sex street fair]. While it was refreshing to see everyone celebrating sex so openly, that event stirs up some of my past here and makes me feel quite empty. But, more than that, everyone was fucked up. FUCKED UP. Booze, “G,” “E,” you name it. I was like, I can’t even be here, I’m so sober. I want to be cool with this, but I can’t. I felt so uncomfortable, so square. It was all in my head, and had more to do with the fact that I was there alone — again — but…yeah. Minor, but enough to cause me to overthink, and then, want to drink. I didn’t, though. Seeing people stumbling around in their underwear (literally), in the freezing cold 55-degree weather, barely conscious made me go, Hmm, now THAT does not resemble fun, and I’m really glad I’m not you.

2. I think I often feel judged and unaccomplished by my family. Why aren’t you with man/with child yet? Why have you never brought a guy home to us? Why have you never invited us over and/or cooked for us? (Well, I have, but in the larger sense: why are you not settled down beyond having roommates and dating the wrong guys/no guys?) These are much more likely questions I ask myself, and when they make me feel too scared or nervous, I drink. Drank.

2. The whole brother’s girlfriend thing, which makes me think of both my brothers. Are they happy? Moreover, should I be helping the one (more financially well off) more with banking away some money for my mom? She is on Social Security now, but up until a few weeks ago, she was working. At 66, she’s that uncomfortable with her retirement nest egg (none) that she still HAS (not wants) to work! She has arthritis in her hip and pretty severe osteoporosis, so it’s highly likely we’ll all have to chip in and buy her a home one day soon. Is my “taking some time off for me” a selfish thing to do, when I am 38 and in the prime of my professional earning capacity? It is. And, it bothers me.

The problem is, I TRIED working a “big bucks” job in “the Valley” AGAIN, and I hated it, AGAIN. And, it caused me so much grief to be doing something so passionless that I drank. All the time. Even at work. Doh.

And, now that I’ve gotten away from that life, and tasted something more relaxed…I can barely stomach a return to the grind, even one that’s “fun.” I worry, fret, worry, fret. Am I too old to go back to [cold east coast city] and work in the publishing industry? Do I want to? Can I fake it if I don’t want to? Can I handle it and the stress sans wine? Plus, I don’t want to sit on my ass all day, every day anymore.

I wish it was easy for me to have faith that I can earn a living doing what I’m passionate about. To that end, I can dream. And so, I’ve proactively come up with a few alternate careers to dream about: professional dog walker, cake baker, rare gem collector, field anthropologist, acupuncturist? 😉

I’m excited about moving (and moving on), and I don’t have to think about being productive, financially and professionally — not yet. I DON’T HAVE TO — right now. But, I will, in December or January or February, or whenever the money starts running out and I look at my grad school student loan debt and think, Oh, FUCKING HELLO. Or, I turn around and there it is again, the need to earn savings for myself, my future, my mother’s future…

It’s SO MUCH EASIER to avoid this fretting and worrying with wine. It makes me sad, in a very vague way. Life isn’t happy-go-lucky. The party IS over.

Or, is it?

Oh, HI, Haagen-Dazs.

23 Sep

1:35 am

OK. Another thing to NOT BUY. I eat ice cream JUST like I drink: in a feeding frenzy. What, am I going to starve sometime between now and when I wake up? Jesus! I finally get rid of my wine gut (well, it was going going gone before this stupid hamstring thing that has turned me into that “ma’am who walks while eating an apple”) only to replace it with a Haagen-Dazs gut?

Le sigh.

Must calm down. Must not eat to the point where I feel ill. But, damn, was it good. There is something called “too good,” though. Too damn good. And, why is Haagen-Dazs so much better than my beloved Ben & Jerry’s? Sorry, Ben. Sorry, Jerry. You lose.

And, it was coffee ice cream, so I’m up. UP! Oh, Sparkle Tooth? Uh, nope, she’s long gone to bed. At least she’s sleeping safely, under her weeping willow, knowing that her owner is not going to wig out because she sucked down eight glasses of wine tonight.

This is the hour, too, when I loved starting a bottle of red. Perfect time to wind down, be alone, day done, sipping a glass of red. Whiiiiiich always, ALWAYS was absolute bullshit, mainly because I knew I’d be finishing the whole thing, wanting a second and then having to either deal with the disappointment or huff to whatever crackhead store was open at 2 am and buy the Worst Wine on the Planet…that I would so totally drink anyway.

That gnarly motherfucker of a hangover is still fresh in my mind, so I’m going to say, honestly, that I’m SO glad to not be pouring wine down my throat. And, tomorrow I will start again, trying to revise my diet (I have become somewhat addicted/dependent on Diet Coke, and this is NO good; I crave sweets, and my eating is…off, no other way to explain it), hopefully going for a run if the back and leg feel up to it (btw, they feel SO MUCH BETTER, verging on a manageable pain, all thanks to acupuncture), and finishing my final move stuff. I am losing steam; this summer was a trip, having packed up ONCE back in June, moved and shipped to [cold east coast city] for 6 weeks, went to the [beautiful island where I now live], and now…back here. I have two boxes I’m going to ship to said island, and the rest I’m either selling for way cheap or giving away on Craigslist. So, yes, that’s my day.

Oof, feeling ill. See? When I eat a whole pint of ice cream, I feel ill. So, I don’t do it often. It registers in my brain. The way I eat it, when I’m feeling all “grasp-y,” is the problem. But, with wine, it seems (seemed?) that no matter how many mind-bending hangovers I have, no matter how many times I black out and do stupid shit like, ruin a pair of favorite (and expensive: I checked today and the same frame is going to cost me $244 — I managed to snap them in half across the bridge and tear off one of the sides, but the lenses don’t have a scratch) glasses, it doesn’t seem to sink in. Well, maybe a little. Well, maybe a lot.

I like being sober. I am going to bed sober, and it feels like…a relief. I can predict, I can rely on, I can take solace in tomorrow, and in those nights and days of practice this summer that have led me to KNOW that drinking does not fill time, it empties it.

And, outside my window, I hear a party going on, people talking a lot of bullshit against the backdrop of sirens and a dark early morning hour. (Also, the smell of long overdone charcoal, which is just…eww.) And you know what? It’s the last place I want to be. The very, absolute last.

Good night, beautiful Sparkle Tooth (my unicorn, with sparkly teeth, who is pulling my water wagon and sometimes lets me ride on her back…in case you’re wondering).

Post-it note in my “wolf” voice

22 Sep

10:24 pm

Good. Enuf.
Drank 9/20
on Day 34
FUCK. THIS. ABSTINENCE. BULLSHIT.

I wrote this on a post-it note (what, was I going to read it the next morning alongside my list of what to get at the hardware store?) to myself during the peak of my craving and right before I caved and downed a bottle and a half of wine.

HAHAHA. Oh, my. I’m SUCH a ‘tard.

Wolf, shut the fuck up! Craving, witch, demon, master of none, be gone!

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Ditching the Wine

Getting myself sober; the ups and downs

The Sober Experiment

Start your journey of self discovery

Sober and Well

Live your best life free from alcohol

Shelfie Book Reviews

The Honest Reviews of a Chaotic Mood Reader

cuprunnethover

Filling my Cup with What Matters

winesoakedramblings - the blog of Vickie van Dyke

because the drunken pen writes the sober heart ...

I love my new life!

Changing my life to be the best me. My midlife journey into sobriety, passions and simple living/downshifting.

Sunbeam Sobriety

Just a normal lass from Yorkshire and her journey into happy sobriety

runningfromwine

Welcome to my journey to end my addiction to wine!

Without the whine

Exploring the heart of what matters most

My Sober Glow Journey

Join the Sober Glow Sisterhood — where sober living meets self-love.”

New Beginnings

My Journey to Staying Sober.

Sober Yogi

My journey to wholeness

'Nomorebeer'

A sobriety blog started in 2019

A Spiritual Evolution

Alcoholism recovery in light of a Near Death Experience

No Wine I'm Fine

An alcoholfree journey in New Zealand with a twist

Untipsyteacher

I am a retired teacher who quit drinking and found happiness! After going deaf, I now have two cochlear implants!

Life Beyond Booze

The joys, benefits and challenges of living alcohol free

Functioningguzzler

In reality I was barely functioning at all - life begins with sobriety.

Mental Health @ Home

A safe place to talk openly about mental health & illness

Faded Jeans Living

By Dwight Hyde

Moderately Sober

Finding my contented self the sober way

Sober Courage

From liquid courage to Sober Courage

Musings Of A Crazy Cat Lady

The personal and professional ramblings of a supposedly middle aged crazy cat lady

Life in the Hot Lane

The Bumpy Road of Life as a Woman 45+

Wake up!

Operation Get A Life

doctorgettingsober

A psychiatrist blogging about her own demons and trying to deal with them sober

Storm in a Wine Glass

I used to drink and now I don't

Off-Dry

I got sober. Life got big.

Dorothy Recovers

An evolving tale of a new life in recovery

Lose 'da Booze

MY Journey towards Losing 'da Booze Voice within and regaining self-control

Laurie Works

MA., NCC, RYT, Somatic Witch

Drunky Drunk Girl

A blog about getting sober

The Soberist Blog

a life in progress ... sans alcohol

soberjessie

Getting sober to be a better mother, wife, and friend

mentalrollercoaster

the musings and reflections of one person's mental amusement park

TRUDGING THROUGH THE FIRE

-Postcards from The Cauldron

Guitars and Life

Blog about life by a music obsessed middle aged recovering alcoholic from South East England