Tag Archives: alcoholism

Choosing not to drink…because my life depends on it

26 Jan

4:01 pm

Literally. Having a life depends on me staying sober right now.

I’ve been seriously thinking about drinking the past few days/weeks. I mean, why not? The other night in bed, I got a text from a friend, who is 40, I guess will be 41 this year, who just popped out her second kid. As usual, I felt the wind-tunnel-in-my-gut feeling, and then, the curtain of sadness. It’s brief, and irrational–I’ve done some awesome shit in my life, right?–but…it got me thinking: I have to make some decisions.

Moreover, I have less than a year and a half; said another way, I have 16 periods left in which to get preggers.

It’s not so much that the possibility of not having kids of my own makes me sad, it’s the fact that I LET so much time pass, so many opportunities. Did I let life roll me over? Did I stay with men who were noncommittal, like me, out of fear…or was that just the way it went, was supposed to go? I mean, I am definitely of the pre-online dating generation, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have gotten on the bandwagon in 2005 or 2006 and like some of my friends, made a list of “to do” and “to have,” and got on with it. Like picking a career, or a place to live, or a job, should I have prioritized having kids in this way? Instead, I wasted a lot of time bouncing around in my 20s, and didn’t really pick a career (one that, of course, I’m no longer happy with!) and start on it until my 30s. How could I have both invested most of my 30s making a career for myself in journalism AND finding a man and having kids? It just seems that no matter what decisions you’ve made, you’re going to end up regretting your choices in some way(s).

I think I’ve spent the past decade, at least, drowning out the inevitable, NOT making a choice and then drinking to avoid the entire affair (not choosing, feeling bad about myself for not wanting to deal with not choosing). Now, with less than a year and a half until I turn 40, I wonder: is it really too late? Could I have made any one of the shitty relationships I was in work, back then, if I had chosen to have kids? Would I have picked different men, or more importantly, would I have stood up for myself and forced us to decide? It’s hard to tell, but one thing I do know: drinking played a major role in where I am today. It’s not that I’m unhappy to be here by any stretch, but I think if I had gotten sober earlier and stopped using wine to basically avoid these so-called “hard” and “scary” decisions… I don’t know.

I’m a biologist; I know that I’m not unique, reproductively-speaking. Every year counts, once a woman gets past 35. Past 37, every month. I don’t think I want to be childless at 50, I really don’t. I don’t know why, and I’m not sure I can even stomach the thought of giving up all the dreams I still have in order to raise kids, but… I don’t know.

What I do know is, these things can’t wait to be examined, just shy of 90 days sober or not. At 20, I remember having All These Options. In a way, I still think of myself as 20, or 25, or 30…not pushing 40! How do I reconcile the sadness of realizing that my options are vastly different now, if not limited, and the necessary acceptance of this truth? I have to accept it in order to move on, but more immediately, in order to not freak out and start drinking alcoholically again.

Happy weekend?

Binge drinking and brain damage

25 Jan

12:00 pm

This is really depressing, mainly because, theoretically speaking, I shouldn’t be able to form ANY long-term memories at this point (if this article is correct in saying that the damage occurs in the hippocampus, which is where short-term memories are converted to long-term memories elsewhere in the brain):

Effects of Binge Drinking Almost Immediate

It’s hard to ignore the FACT of the matter, which is, even IF you’ve gotten sober, you’ve still got brain damage and you’ve still got an increased risk of dementia in your later years. I almost feel like drinking over it–why not? The damage has been done.

ANYHOO, it’s sort of a rainy day down here and I’ve got work to do, and my biggest concern as of the moment is my lower back (burning pain today–ack!) and NOT my hippocampus. Alas, I’ve got some blog posts to dazzle you guys with:
1. Weird and Awkward
2. Drinking is a disorder, not a disease
3. The continuum of “alcoholism” is like the continuum of sexuality–we’re all on it, somewhere
4. ?

See you later!

Pushing my sober boulder uphill past few weeks

23 Jan

4:47 pm

So, as you may know, I’m going on 15 weeks of sobriety tomorrow–90 days plus 2 weeks. And, let me tell you, the past 2 weeks have been hard. I’ve felt so lethargic, mainly due to the slightly overwhelming number of things I now feel I have to start on. Resume.

And, I’ve been leading full days, too (well, full for me right now): walking the dogs, working out, closing several editing projects. Yet…there’s so much more to do!

Now that I’m sober…I should (want to) start some “beat” science and health reporting around the island. (In process today. We’ll see where my footsteps lead…)

Now that I’m sober, I should (want to) re-apply to some public health master’s programs and/or re-visit my deferment at a school down south.

Now that I’m sober, I should (want to) invite peeps down here to vacay, and make a trip back up to [cold east coast city] to reconnect.

Now that I’m sober, I should (want to) start on/re-visit some personal writing projects; I’d be heartbroken if I didn’t at least TRY to do something with/about them. (The truth will set you free, right?)

Now that I’m sober, I should (want to) come to some sort of…resolution?…about starting a family. I sense it’s something I can no longer reasonably put off. (Well, maybe one more year… 😉 )

Now that I’m sober…the list goes on and on.

I want to and feel excited about the future and the work that lies ahead, but I’m tired, too. Mentally. I guess staying sober IS a full-time job, mentally and emotionally. It has been for me. At the same time, I feel like I’ve been spinning my wheels, spending all my time getting up the energy to do stuff and not executing. I want to, sure, but my body is like, Oh, what? I guess it’s still Fake It Till Ya Make It hour, but I’m wondering, when does that turn into Make It?

So, I’ve been pushing that boulder, and having no time or energy really to think about drinking–the more I think at all, the more things I come up with to put on my to-do list. So it goes. Sigh.

Then, I force myself into “mantra mode:”

One day at at time
Give your MIND time to heal, and not just your body
You’ve accomplished SO MUCH getting sober, probably the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do–so be proud, take stock, and build on that
Be patient
Stay on track

The last is a big one. Just because my thoughts and feelings are bringing me into the center of a mental black hole, doesn’t mean I have to let them. Sit back and watch them pass. They will. And, don’t react to anything. Just sit back, grind it out if need be (you can do it, you really can), and let them go. And, they will. Annnnnnd, then it’s back to your regularly scheduled PLUGGING and PLODDING, which are, by the way, AMAZING programs. Have you seen them? If not, you should. 😉

Time to get to work, I suppose. Poor old me, with all these CHOICES and OPPORTUNITIES. (For me, remembering that I bring on a lot of my stress due to overthinking and overplanning, due to expectations and self-judgments–it helps to remember that all these ideas and choices and things to do are GOOD, nothing is BAD, and no one is out to get me, beat me, or otherwise hurt me. Unless we’re talking about journalistic colleagues and people I’ve hurt while drunk, but I’m going to ignore the fact that I have very real enemies and pretend everyone is riding a unicorn with sparkly teeth, just like mine.)

Learning to enjoy and not overthink

22 Jan

2:16 am

Lately, I haven’t had the time to continually think about drinking. I have a bunch of posts I’d like to write, and comments I’d like to make, but staying “here,” in this head space–eh, it’s a bit much. Unnecessary, at some point, to keep beating a dead horse, y’know?

I feel “healed” in a certain sense. I don’t go to meetings anymore, and that’s been a great help in allowing me to feel normal again, and not diseased or “broken.” Grasp-y. Overexposed. Judged. That mentality had a huge negative impact on me–in addition to feeling like a piece of shit who was always drunk, I constantly felt ashamed, helpless, and broken, and it was exacerbated by this constant rumination/reflection on being ashamed, helpless, and broken! I’m learning to accept that it’s perfectly OK to not like AA. And, that I don’t have to “save” others in order to be and stay sober. I really don’t. I can, but that’s my choice when/if I want to be of that type of service. It’s a lot of work, being there for someone when you’re your own full-time job. I don’t have to do it, any of it. AND THAT’S OK!

In fact, I think I’m going to have a Big Book burning ceremony soon, just to sort of cleanse that (relatively negative, but not entirely) experience from my bones.

I also feel like I need to focus on training myself to simply enjoy, for three reasons:
– stressing ruins the moment, and all that the moment entails
– stressing takes the “play” out
– stressing messes up my hormones, making things even more unpredictable

I have a lot on my to-do list for 2013 and am feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all, BUT, I’m going to try to keep it simple, take it easy, and stop overthinking. And, drinking? Yep, I’d love a glass of wine (or, would I?), but I have too much to do and being altered or hung over would simply waste more time. It really is that simple–for now. The sober “car”/boulder is rolling, and rolling fast, so watch out! 😉

Off to bed. So tired after trying to understand all the amaze-balls dialogue in ‘Lincoln’ tonight. Tony Kushner is a god.

Healing is boring

21 Jan

2:42 am

Or, maybe I’ve just let it bore me, and therefore, define me as “bored.” Who knows, but I’m ready to rock and roll on out of this “thinkin’ about drinkin'” phase.

I feel a lot like my old self, now that I’m well past 90 days–made it to 100 last night. I’ve been having some GREAT days, with lots of coffee, running, swimming, dog walking, cooking, rastafarian food fair-going… What I mean is, I’m not sure how others feel, but quitting drinking has allowed me to literally go back to who I was. Where I left off, so to speak. Ready work, to play, to run around like a chicken with my head cut off again.

Really?, I secretly dig at myself. Or, is it the opposite? I don’t know, and that’s where I’m going to simply have to say, I don’t know myself right now and I’m going to have to live around that fact. Live anyway, y’know? Work, dream, plan, move forward, minute to minute, day to day.

See, I used to have a lot of well-defined needs, wants, and goals. Now, however, I feel like I’m not sure which, if any, of those needs, wants, and goals are even of any value! I think quitting drinking, actually, is but ONE SYMPTOM of the transition that is staring me in the face, like a disease: the disease of mid-life, of mortality. I could not both survive this disease and its symptoms AND drink, so I had to quit. And, now that I’ve quit, I see this crisis for what it is–a lot of work to do, a lot of information to parse. Sigh. I don’t even know if I’m making any sense, which is why I haven’t written in a few days.

All I know is, I’m feeling my way forward, with blinders on, and it’s NOT because I’m drunk and confused. And, I’m starting to feel like my old self, and it doesn’t mean that I want to down two bottles of wine. I might, if given the chance, though; but that’s MY CHOICE.

(Yes, this is the problem of having to go to bed sober; thoughts are still whirring, a lot of them negative, but only YOU can turn them off because you realize they’re meaningless; you can’t use The Wine, and it never did a good job anyway.)

Not PAWS, but maybe PTSD?

16 Jan

3:16 pm

Well, you guys have got me thinking again–so, of course, I have to follow up on my last post.

Lately, I’ve been feeling burnt out by the littlest of things, the slightest pressures, the shortest to-do lists. Or, maybe the to-do lists aren’t that short, but my energy definitely does not match my ambition. I no longer seem to have the get-up-and-go that I used to when I was drinking. Or, rather, the go-go-go, and chase-chase-chase.

I think I was simply running on fumes when I was on The Wine. Like, my adrenaline was constantly up, and my immune system was running on overdrive–no wonder I could do and go and stay up and drink, and it seemed like I felt much more alive than I do now. Or, was I just wired? Actually, I was probably a nervous wreck, and my body was about to go from saying “Hello, we can’t keep you amped up like you’re escaping from a pack of hyenas much longer!” to “We quit, bitch!”.

The more I think about it, the more I don’t really buy PAWS, or, post-acute-withdrawal syndrome. The main issue I have, after having quit drinkin’, is getting used to not being fueled by the anticipation of getting drunk. I have to say, it is still a struggle for me to not feel anxious, sometimes panicky, and often sad whenever I realize (daily, still sometimes more than once a day) that I can’t get buzzed. I used wine as a motivating factor for so long (i.e., If I can get through this day, then I can have wine), as a way to combat the stress and fatiguing aspects of my life. Now that it’s not even an option, what is my go-to source of strength? What becomes my motivating factor? I mean, at this point, I don’t NEED to work full-time and/or compete and achieve in the “real world;” I sort of dread the day I have to go back to that shit. What I’ve come to understand is that while there are plenty of people who use substances to propel them on their career paths, I cannot–and don’t want–to be one of them anymore.

And, while I know about most of the physical damage I’ve caused to my body, I cringe–stricken, to an extent, as if I have a mild case of PTSD–at some of the things I’ve done and lived through while blacked out drunk. Waking up in bed with a stranger? Spending entire evenings out, with only fleeting glimpses of what I might have said or where I might have gone? Cursing out strangers (or friends, or bartenders) on every other street corner on the LES? Getting into a fight, being shoved, and breaking my arm as I crashed my shoulder onto the sidewalk? And then, passing out and having to deal with it the next day, so hung over (and in such excruciating pain) I could barely keep my eyes open as I stumbled from ER to ER, trying to find one where the line wasn’t hours long? Spending nights (on more than one occasion) in jail, alternately screaming belligerently at the cops through my blackout and curled up in the fetal position as I waited for my court papers to come through; communing for days with 20 other women over a non-working toilet, rotten cheese sandwiches and sour milk, and gymnastics mats that served as our “beds” in a 40-degree holding cell? YIKES. I could go on and on.

Moving back to [cold west coast city], pining for a romantic relationship, for friendships, for an old self–all of which had been thoroughly extinguished years earlier (and, if they hadn’t, DEFINITELY flitted out to a mass of dank coals during the ensuing 18 months that I continued living there)? Drinking entire weekends away, so that my first encounter with daylight was at 3 pm on a Sunday, when I would walk to the Safeway to get more wine? Drinking several times for entire weeks at a clip: commuting while drunk, working while drunk, passing out in my cube while drunk? Drinking to obliterate my nerves at having to go back to work the next day, not sure what my coworkers heard or saw, not sure how the shuttle driver deposited me at the train station because I had blacked out hours before leaving work and don’t remember anything of the commute home? I could go on. And on and on and on.

Post-traumatic stress disorder? Yup, I think I got it.

But you know what? I’m through it, on the other side, and I feel great! Stronger, calmer, and much more capable of taking care of myself. I obviously was taking my anger out on the wrong people, including me, but, that’s behind me now. I am onto a better–and very different–way.

And, all this is to simply illustrate that yes, these things can depress and/or overwhelm, but we get past them, forgive and forget for our own sakes, and deal with the memories of how they made us feel. Slowly, but surely. And in our own time and graces.

All in due time, I keep telling myself. All in due time…

I think I might have PAWS

15 Jan

1:53 pm

And, we’re not talkin’ about the cute kind! (I have baby giraffe hooves, remember?)

PAWS = post-acute-withdrawal syndrome. The symptoms can range from everything from depression to anxiety to fatigue to “physical coordination problems” (uh, had that covered BEFORE I quit), for months or years after you stop drinking.

Say what?! YEARS?!?! Come ON. No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

First, I have to go through withdrawal, then I have to make it 90 days, and now, I have to keep going through withdrawal, indefinitely? NOT FAIR. (Well…you did get yourself into this mess, Drunk Drunk Girl; now you have to get yourself out.)

I’m finally, after 90 days, starting to feel less moody, and less pouty, when it comes to drinking. To feel less depressed when I tell myself that once again, No, you cannot drink tonight, or Yes, you have to at least try to convince yourself that this (everything) might be even a little bit fun without wine. Le sigh. I’m beginning to know–in my heart AND mind–that drinking equates to not getting things done, which is what I really want right now. Those to-do lists are simply popping, and I finally want to dive in, like I used to.

However, my body is not really wanting to dive in, let’s just say. I feel TIRED a lot. Like, I only have a finite amount of both mental and physical energy, and then I have to stop and go to bed. My days could very well consist of eating, walking the dogs, and resting/sleeping/zoning. My “go go go” tenacity seems gone, zapped. Like, I cannot IMAGINE, really, holding down a full-time job right now, let alone living again the lifestyle I was in my drinking days: up at 6 am, in bed by 2 am, with an 18-hour day, a full meal, and two bottles of red wine to digest in those 4 hours before I had to get up and do it all over again. I’m OVER the rat race, for sure, but it has a lot to do with realizing that I don’t want to, let alone can’t, spend the next 20 years vying for prizes that mean next to nothing to me, alongside people who are as unhealthy in their outlook on life as I had become.

I DO wonder, though, if my soreness (here, there, everywhere) is not related to too much artificial sweetener (i.e., Diet Coke). I read that somewhere, and it stuck. Lately, my knees, both of ’em, really hurt when I run. I went for a 4- or 5-mile hike yesterday–and am BURNT today. Jesus! I used to (like, less than a year ago) be able to do 10-, 12-mile hikes–and drink to blackout afterward–and feel fine when it came to my muscles and joints. Hmm… I wonder if there wasn’t good stuff in wine that was actually buffering me against the inevitable decline toward old age. 😉

In any case, it’s much better than it was even a month ago, but the physical fatigue is concerning. As is my continuing desire to emulate my dogs (wake, walk, eat, sleep, repeat).

Does anyone have anything to add or contribute? It seems that the defining characteristics of PAWS and its “progression” or “remission” are about as nebulous as the definition of alcoholism, so I’m all ears (or paws–har har)!

96 days and not lookin’ back…right now, anyway. 😉

PAWS, WAA, disorder, and, well, sleep

15 Jan

12:59 am

The last is what I’m going to be doing ASAP, so, y’all’ll have to wait until tomorrow to hear about:
1. Post-acute withdrawal syndrome (PAWS)
2. Weird and Awkward (WAA) moments (i.e., real life), and my how-to tips on how to get through them sans alcohol
3. MOST IMPORTANTLY, my germinating hypothesis (I’m sure it’s been proposed, and I’ll be the first to admit that I have not read any addiction literature but plan to get on PubMed soon and start Finding Out): Addiction is not a disease, it’s a disorder–of thought, yes, but of memory and similarly, neuronal circuitry. Yes, there is a huge difference (in my mind at least) between a disease and a disorder. Drinking causes disease, but addiction is a disorder, a dysfunctional set of behaviors.

However, I hiked my arse off today on a somewhat impromptu trip to [beautiful island], so I’m beat. I guess it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.

And while I’m here, if I’m honest, I DO want to drink. I said I didn’t, but…I want the release, I want the buzz. Yet, when I re-think it, as I must do over and over, again and again, day in and day out–I really don’t want it THAT MUCH, or, at all. What would it do for me, at one in the morning? Nada. To boot, I’d have a hangover tomorrow, calories to burn, and well, I’d have LOST. Lost the game, the fight, my righteous edge, my newly reclaimed power (will blog about that soon, too), whatever. I’d have lost.

So much to share, friends, but I’ll see you tomorrow–calm, sober, and well-rested. (At 90-some days, I can’t really imagine putting up with being sick and fuzzy-headed en route to the sack. Eww. I’m glad I stuck it out, simply, and that I worked through the shit to get here. This is nicer, way nicer. The wolf voice screaming in my head at night to “drink drink drink” is finally gone; and perchance do I see my sparkle-toothed unicorn, smiling my way? YES! She’s hanging out with a baby giraffe, fluffing glitter out of her mane every time she turns her head to smile at me. (A sparkle-toothed unicorn pulls my water wagon, as she has been doing since my “first” first day of sobriety back in June. Well, why not?) 😉 )

Moving on from thinkin’ about drinkin’, or, life after 90 days

12 Jan

1:54 am

Yes, folks, I’m actually not thinking that much about drinking. Say WHAT? I’m just kind of grooving on living, drink-free, and not wanting what I “don’t have” or wishing that “I could have fun.” (In fact, when I look around now, and see people on Facebook, for instance, lugging shittons of booze on like, ski trips with their significant others, I have to wonder WHY…but that’s another post.) It really is a rational thought *process,* convincing your brain–or re-setting it back to NORMAL–that being drunk does not equate to having fun. Much of my process of quitting drinking has actually been quitting relating drunkenness with fun, and stopping equating chemically-induced numbness with calm.

The other day in AA, I heard some woman lamenting the fact that she was still a “lunatic” until she started doing the steps. Well, if it takes you 11 years (as it did in her case) to realize that being drunk is not, actually, all THAT much fun (compared to having real conversations and doing real things with your friends and family), then… I don’t know. I don’t want to hate on AA again/anymore, but my 90-day chip meeting will likely be one of my last. At least for now. Meetings make me cringe; I feel very uncomfortable inside “the rooms.” But, I’ve realized that some people simply need that “tough love,” that rigidity, that almost thoughtlessness of approach–deviation from the formula can pretty much guarantee relapse, I think, for some people who simply want to stop drinking but can’t immediately (or ever, let’s face it) process the motivation(s) behind getting shitfaced on the regular. So, yeah. Check ya later, AA.

Anyhoo… So, I’m working on an editing project on memory–everything from how memories are encoded in our brains to memory and trauma–and I came across something that made me pause: problems with substance abuse and addiction, some researchers say, are actually problems with memory. For instance, associations, i.e., memories, take over when you think about drinking, which makes it hard to untangle the the associated memories from the getting drunk memories. How can I not want to drink when I’m at the beach, for example, when that’s what I’ve always done? When that’s what’s been encoded in my brain–thinking about one makes me remember the other, and vice versa. It’s why drinking becomes an obsession, I guess, because EVERYTHING makes you think about drinking. Like, I can’t forget all those times I drank at the beach so it makes it hard for me to go there and not drink, or not want to drink…unless they find a way to either erase those memories or replace them with something new or different. Therefore, can I truly be relieved of the obsessive thoughts while at the beach sober if I don’t work at minimizing or repressing these old memories? Interesting to read about an entirely new paradigm (that’s the word they used in the article, so I had to, OK?) regarding addiction.

It’s been a pretty slow past few days, which has been, literally, wonderful! Lots of dog walking, coffee drinking (decaf!), and reading/editing. I went running yesterday, and it was better than the first time. I liken my legs right now to baby giraffe legs–when I try to stand on them, they crumple. (While cute, it’s rather pitiful.) I think things should even out once I get on a normal (read: non-vampire) schedule, reign in the sweets (especially Diet Coke), and continue to push my legs a little longer each day/every other day. ‘Tread lightly’ is my mantra, and don’t worry about how far or how fast (“run” and “running” should be put in quotes until further notice).

Thanks, all, for your encouraging comments to my 90-day post! I honestly could not have done it without your support. Rock on, 93 days!

90 days sober!

9 Jan

11:59 pm

Wow. It’s HERE. It’s really here. As of today, January 9th, 2013, I am 90 days sober. I made it!

Actually, this is my third try since last summer. I quit drinkin’ the day after my birthday back in June (I had had ENOUGH after yet another drunken night of being alternately up and down, yelling at people, and passing out in the middle of important things, like, um, making out with my boyfriend), went for 60 days, drank twice during the next 2 weeks, went for 5 weeks, then drank, oh, several times over the next 3 weeks before I finally–after a horrendously hungover flight from [big city near my home town] to [beautiful island where I now live]–gave up. That was 90 days ago.

Over the course of these 90 days, things have definitely changed. Majorly, in some respects, subtly in many, many others.

If I think back to June, things have changed immensely. I made some huge, and important, life choices–giving up my place (and all that entails) in [cold west coast city] and relocating most of my belongings back to my storage unit in [cold east coast city] was one. The “and all that entails” was confronting (or, in my case, avoiding confronting with any kind of maturity or grace) some of the emotional baggage from my first time in [cold west coast city] (I lived there for 6 years prior to moving to [cold east coast city] in 2005; I moved back to [cold west coast city] in 2010 for a job), which I’ve detailed in past posts.

What I’m saying is, it wasn’t easy starting. It wasn’t easy continuing to not drink through the fear, the worry, the “wolf” voice in my head yelling at me near-constantly that wine would make it better, that life was literally impossible to do without it. It wasn’t easy getting here.

Moving to the [beautiful island where I now live] wasn’t easy. Deciding to dive in and start freelancing wasn’t easy. Going through withdrawal (for I’d say, 6 weeks of a low-grade “flu”), starting this blog and opening up about my drinking problem–that sure wasn’t easy. Going to my first AA meetings here, on said island, was definitely not easy; reading the Big Book and coming to terms with my own opinion and beliefs about AA and “The Program” wasn’t/isn’t easy. Dealing with constant “God DAMN it, wine would make this SO MUCH BETTER/EASIER” pangs was/is probably the worst thing I’ve ever had to do; thankfully, thinking through these thoughts, rationalizing myself out of drinking over them, and practicing this over and over–in addition to doing what I would say is a “personalized” version of the 12 steps–has allowed me to at least tuck the pangs in for a nap.

Those are some of the big ways my life is different. It’s the small ways that are SO abundant, and so rewarding. While today is my 90-day anniversary, it was just like many of the past 90 days: I woke up relatively early, with no hangover and no regrets; I made coffee and walked the dogs, soaking up the wind, the sun, the water, the sky; I went jogging; I went to an AA meeting; I made cupcakes to celebrate my soberversary; I finished an editing project; I commented on some blogs; I wrote a blog post; I kissed my boyfriend. I mean, my days seem simple, but yet…they’re brimming with possibility! Flourishing, actually, in spite of any and every habitual notion I have of containing them.

And, each one of those “simple” acts and actions reveals a major step forward, personally, for me; and most of them, I see now, involve conquering a grander fear. None of this conquering of fears (like, doing it and doing it and doing it until the fear is less than my faith) would have been possible if I were still drinking. It’s that simple.

Fear? Well, the fear of life without wine, first and most important of all. I mean, I was afraid of doing a LOT of things sober. Like, eating dinner, going out, having sex–you get the picture. I worried about the “weird and awkward” moments that were SURE to come up. I didn’t believe that I could do them anymore without wine, or the reward of wine more precisely (I think I ONLY made it through journalism school and my job as a science reporter with the reward of loads of wine at the end of my days)… I guess I just had faith because I saw–thank God(dess)–that I truly had no other option.

Now? Well, I’ve done it. Felt the fear and did it (well, many of them) anyway. Had to say, Wow, THAT was weird and awkward, and then shrug my shoulders and move on. And, what a HUGE RELIEF, knowing that I CAN do these things without being buzzed, AND that I’m actually starting to truly want to do them sober.

I’m HERE, which means I actually made the decisions that led me to give up my place in [cold west coast city] and move down, which could only have been preceded by me actually confronting my sense of loss, my fear of change, and my apprehension of Things Working Out, both personally and professionally. I was not only afraid of geographic change, I was sort of TERRIFIED of being in a relationship, I see now. Of getting to know someone; of someone getting to know me. I used wine to hide from that truth–for years, actually–and the more I avoided it, the worse I felt and the more I wanted to (and did) drink! So, being here, with this wind, and sun, and water, and sky; with these dogs; with this person–it’s all because I began confronting (and continue; it ain’t over yet!) my fear(s) instead of drinking.

Anyway, 90 days. Like I wrote earlier today, I made a deal with myself that I’d go for 90 days and then re-assess. Well, all I can say is, I feel great, I’m regaining my powers of concentration and affect and memory (sort of), I’m LOVING the consistency of never being hung over, and well…yeah, the list goes on and on as to how my day-to-day life has improved by quitting drinking.

Was today any different than any other sober day of late? Not really. I thought about drinking a few times, as usual, but the thoughts are now accompanied by a quick ushering out. I can’t, is all I know. I could, but I’d drink four glasses, not one–I’d WANT four, this I know. Is an hour of “fun” worth 48 hours of time wasted, spent in agony? NOT. So, the loop goes back to the beginning with me not being able to drink… For now.

Well, there ya have it. What’s next? 6 months? Bring it on! 🙂

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