4:05 pm
I can’t believe I’ve gone 20 FUCKING (oops) weeks, sans The Grape!? HOLY SHIT.
Haha. Faux-drama aside, it’s been hard work. It hasn’t been easy, especially concerning my brief stint in AA and the grappling with all THEIR ideas re: my sobriety versus all MY ideas. I think a few people linked out to Amy’s excellent post already, but I have to say, this line really hit home for me:
Surrender to sobriety. Surrender yourself to strength. Don’t surrender to a higher power- be a higher power. And no, I don’t mean start calling yourself God. But I do mean create a universe. I do mean create days and nights. And light. I do mean make a life. And on some days rest.
YES! Surrender. I really don’t think I have yet. The other day, my boyfriend and I were talking about my last post, which was about how I feel “recovered”–whatever that actually means. Am I? I guess I am. I don’t know. None of that matters anyway. What matters are my answers to the following questions, and how I feel about those answers:
1. Can I not drink without a specific reason to not drink? Right now, I don’t want to drink because: I don’t want to consume the calories; I want to keep running regularly; I like saving money; I NEED to be totes ON–for the indefinite future, anyway–when it comes to building my freelance business (which involves building a level of drive and self-confidence that for whatever reasons, I don’t have right now); etc. Like, if I didn’t have those very good reasons to not drink, would I still choose to not drink? Do I need the either/or scenario to help me blot out the “wolf voice” (which, admittedly, is now a squeak in comparison to the roar it was months back, but it’s still there)? I’ve been thinking about drinking a lot lately, but the reasons not to always win out. BUT, if I DID want to say “Fuck it,” then I might say yes to drinking.
2. Can I drink a glass or two, comfortably? NO. After 20 weeks? Definitely not. I know this, and I know how it will go. I might WISH and HOPE for it to be otherwise, but I know I’d drink the whole bottle. Probably two (and a half, why not, I’ve got new liver cells to kill now), since I’d have to make up for the past 20 weeks. And I’d feel like ass. I’m not afraid, per se, of slipping or relapsing–it is what it is, you drink and then you feel like crap; would it be any different for anyone else, even anyone who isn’t an “alcoholic?” I’m not even afraid of being hungover (or doing stupid shit) as I am of being “back there” again. Of being disappointed in myself, disappointed in a way that I don’t even know yet because I’ve never gone this long sober and fallen off the wagon. Of KNOWING that I gave it all up, and now I have to Start Over. Nooooooooooooooooo!!!
I had a friend of a friend come out to me recently that he is sober. He drank beer; a LOT of beer. I asked him if he could ever drink again, and, he thought about it for about 30 seconds and then said, “No, I can’t. I don’t think I ever could.” It puzzled me then, in my early days of sobriety, why it would take him that long to reply. I get it now. I mull the question over and over in my head now, too. To drink, for me, would mean to want MORE to drink. Which, if nothing else, is annoying. It’s why I didn’t drink on Valentine’s Day: I knew I’d feel WORSE after that glass or two precisely because I’d be jonesing for more the whole time. I’m pretty sure that my distance, so to speak, from drinking and getting drunk does not correlate AT ALL to my distance, so to speak, from my always wanting more. I guess it’s like quantum physics or something: twists and turns, bends and distortions–they don’t make sense, and they don’t follow “logical” rules or linear relationships. DAMN IT.
3. Are you only recovered when you can take or leave booze? Yes. I think so. Will that ever be possible for me again? Uh…I don’t know. There were times in my life, in my 20s before I discovered wine, and how to abuse wine; times when I could take or leave it. I’d hit the bar, have a few beers, then go home. Maybe I was more excited than I remember about this newfound freedom to get drunk after work at happy hour (how things change when you leave college and enter the “work”force)? Maybe I was just much more of a lightweight?
I guess I feel sad–and relieved?–as I get closer and closer to that point (let’s just call it a singularity, the beginning and the end, since we’re on a physics-themed rant!) of no return. Accepting that I may never be able to simply take or leave booze. I might be able to consciously struggle through the experience of drinking wine again, but it wouldn’t be much fun.
Surrender. For me, that has come to revolve around not “giving in” or “giving up,” but accepting–and then, embracing. I embrace not being able to drink in moderation…for the indefinite period that lies ahead. (“Forever” does not compute in my brain.) It’s making a clearing for other stuff to come through, I guess. Like, my sparkle-toothed unicorn, pulling my water wagon, maybe?
Drunky Drunk Girl 