Tag Archives: milestone

6 weeks and going strong…

30 Apr

12:53 am

Ain’t nuttin’ gonna hold me down! Oh, no! I got to keep on movin’!

Welp, I’ve started like, four posts and can’t seem to organize my thoughts tonight, so I’ll be brief: 42 days again and counting. Six weeks has flown by, and I’m actually going to hit up my journal now and see what, exactly, I’ve done in those past 6 weeks! And, while I am looking forward to having 12 weeks under my belt again, I know the next 6 weeks holds a lot of choices and changes. So, I’m not looking forward to it going fast.

I remember how grateful I was when I had 6 weeks last fall. Now? Of course, I’m grateful. However, it just doesn’t seem like that long of a period of time. And, the cravings are still there, they just come in the form of reactions. I can see my reactions much more clearly than I can feel my cravings, so…in that way, it’s GREAT to be at 6 weeks again and be on such solid ground. Cravings have morphed into reactions, and the latter are much easier to observe and deal with.

I had a lot to say tonight re: AA, and cravings, and anger, and addiction, and… Alas, it’s not gonna happen. For tomorrow then. Say night, night, Unicorn with Sparkly Teeth. You’ve been a strong girl lately.

So much to post, but I’ll start with…Day 35 tomorrow

21 Apr

11:18 pm

But, it hasn’t been easy, or as easy as I thought it would be, I have to admit.

It’s been a few days since my last post–I’m sorry for getting lazy about acknowledging all of your amazing and supportive comments–and as seems to be the case with this “getting sober” business, I’ve gone up, down, and side to side. Some days I’m like, Aww, YES, this sober stuff is awesome! I feel good, I don’t want to drink, I’m getting shit done, I can’t wait to get more shit done. No wolfie-boy on my back, howling for a sip of red wine. Easy.

Other days–and there have been several–I’m like, FUCK THIS NONSENSE. My life isn’t that much better sober, and well, is it me, or do people just annoy me more? People–you know, I have a hard time with people, as an introvert; I just don’t get them. Choosing (being forced?) to interact with and witness other people while constantly sober? Well, let’s just say, it’s not the same without my merlot-colored glasses; I find myself wondering why so many people seem so fucked up and thinking how no one is as funny or kind or interesting as they once were. (Confession: I am REALLY FUCKING TIRED of the mainstream media blowing this Boston mess up, and I am PMSing. So, getting around me with a knife is a definite no-no at the moment, as might be taking any of my angry words to heart.)

Tonight, though, after a few days of simply biting down and letting the feelings/thoughts pass–for once, it feels, I am truly happy to have not given in. Over some bridge. At the clearing. (This has happened before, if I remember correctly back to a post I wrote last summer, but not nearly the same sense of conclusion: I don’t miss drinking once the urge to drink actually passes.)

I’d say that prior to today, not giving in was up to about 95 percent awesome; the remaining 5 percent was, Aww, man, I still missed out on getting buzzed, though! Not today. I’m relieved to have sat through the cravings, knowing full well–and trusting more and more in this experiential knowledge–that they will. Go. Away. And that, nothing–not one thing–is worth drinking over. (Yesterday I tripped while running and sprained my ankle; I cursed and cried and hated on my life, and was like, Why is this shit SO hard? All of this? My reaction was to want to drink; not that I wanted to be drunk, but I wanted to drink. Pretty soon, I was home, icing the ankle and realizing that no, I didn’t want to drink, and no, it really wouldn’t make me feel better, and no, it SO wasn’t worth breaking my 35-day streak over.) In fact, I don’t (really?) miss having been high, and I definitely don’t miss the memory loss, the confusion, the fake emotional roller coaster, the hangover, the disappointment and frustration…

Honk, honk! Sober mack truck, coming through!

Unicorns and glitter balls all around!

3 Apr

1:11 am

So, I’m on day 15–actually, just finished my 15th day sober. For the fourth time. (Starting last June, I went 60 days, then 5 weeks, then (cringe) almost 6 months). And, you know what? Unicorns and glitter balls all around!

I’m going to take deep breaths more often this time. I’m going to celebrate my milestones, instead of gritting my teeth as they rush by. And I think that, while it’s going to be more difficult (that slip really dislodged the little voice in my head that is still on repeat somewhere, telling me that I can drink one day), it’s going to be more meaningful. How? Well…I think it’s simply getting back to believing the OTHER voice again, the one that says that I don’t want to drink. That is going to simply take work. Not necessarily commitment, or passion, or pink clouds, or planning or willpower. Just hard work. And, while it scares me a little to feel so…well, like, the tip of the pencil is dull and I want to stop writing, put it down, and look around; I know I can get back into the mindset again.

Anyway, yeah. Life is moving ahead. Job searching, grad school applying. I got back on the running horse today and did an easy 4 miles. I hurt my left foot the weekend before last on my long 7-miler. It’s taken over a week to “heal,” and it felt great to get back on the trail. The foot hurt a bit in the last mile today (like, felt inflamed), so I’m going to go back to my old shoes on the next run, see if the support might be better. If you want to train down here, though, beyond a few miles, you can’t really avoid going up and down the volcanic hills at some point…and pound-pound-pounding down them. Yet, all was well up until I got these new shoes, which SEEM to be a better fit, but maybe simply aren’t? Anyhoo…it’s a great incentive for me to stay sober; I associate running with sobriety, and the hard work taking it back; something that relies on my sobriety (and maybe vice versa).

So, yes, rewards. Treats. Celebratory high-fives with myself. Heck, let’s throw in some unicorn parades and glitter balls, too!

Here’s to the 12-to-20-weeks window closing!

21 Feb

1:09 am

Almost, that is. I’m at 19 weeks today, and it keeps hitting me how FAST weeks go. Even though I’m still counting days, weeks are flying by! UGH! I have so much to do, but as I’ve moaned before, I just can’t seem to do things with as much speed, efficiency, and/or oomph as I used to. I still do as much as I can, but…it takes longer. I feel like my brain AND body are going in slow motion. S…L…O…W. M…O…T…I…O…N.

Weeks are going faster than ever before, yet… I still have cravings. I’d say they’re there, all day, every day. I’m still wondering, OK, so when can I drink again? Not loud, barely a whisper, but there. All the time.

Today, though, I felt a shift. Very slight, but I felt it. Like, a breath released. A giving in. Or maybe, a newfound perseverance to keep going. I mean, I’ve had major pangs since I hit 90 days. Yet, I know I HAVE to stay sober through the weekend, which puts me at likely standing my ground through the end of the month. Which will put me at 20 weeks… And, I see that 20 weeks is 140 days, which is ONLY about a month from the next big goal, 6 months. And really, I quit drinkin’ on June 13th last year (with, of course, a few times falling off the water wagon, but if I count them, less than 10-15 days of actual drinking during those weeks), so…only 2 more months after that until my “year” anniversary.

I can do this, sure. I know I can. But today, I kind of felt a shift, a giving in–like, resting my head on the shoulder instead of pushing it away, craning my neck in fear that I might get cooties or worse, like it.

I WANT to do this. Say what?

What I know now is that I want to not have hangovers more than I want to drink. Period. Hangovers, for me at 38, equal a bad, bad time. BAAAAD. They are unbearable, mentally and physically. AND, most importantly to my point here, I get fuck all done on those days. Right now, and since last summer, I haven’t had time to be hung over. Literally. I haven’t had the time as I can’t afford to jeopardize my goals. Like, I can’t afford to not get my shit done. So, the choice isn’t actually there anymore for me. Or, rather, it is: drink and jeopardize everything you have going for you now, and everything you want to have going for you; or, don’t. The difference now is, it’s MUCH easier to resist the “wolf voice” with rational thought than it was even last week, let alone months ago. Thank God(dess).

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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