On serenity & permanent life changes

I officially dropped off the map. Dammit, normally I’m pretty good at follow through. Except for those years I knew I had a drinking problem and willfully ignored it

My last posting was in the spring – nearly 5 months ago (?) – and I would like to say, dear reader, that it’s all ok.

In these days of silence, I’ve done a lot of stuff I probably shouldn’t have: allowed myself to be sucked into family drama (oh my god, the blog posting I could write about THAT HOT MESS), I allowed myself to be a complete bitch negative for days on end, I’ve picked fights with my husband over really important shit like the proper way to hang a polo shirt, I’ve had too much coffee, I’ve snuck chocolate late at night when calories just don’t count. I’ve accidentally made my niece cry by being too pushy (god I feel like such an awful person), and I’ve made belittling comments about myself.

One think I haven’t done? Had a single drop of alcohol.

My commitment to sobriety is most certainly stronger than i was all those months ago, when I emerged from a horrible night, humbled & broken by my own addiction and the very dangerous place I chose to put myself & loved ones. 

I think some of this has to do with serenity; on fully accepting without a single doubt that I am an alcoholic and that I will never be able to handle alcohol in any form, in any situation, no matter what. I’ve surrendered to the fact that sometimes anxiety & sadness will rear its somber, tired ass; and I might have to have it sit on my shoulder for a little longer than I would like. (God, fuck you, anxiety, for the raw pangs of electicity that shoot down my chest and poke at the most vulnerable parts of me. For the haunting repition that occasionally beats like a drum: what if what if what it what if whatifwhatif. I’m coming for you, with my yoga and my gratitude and my self-care and my healthy eating.)

And you know, I don’t feel bad for myself. I feel empowered that I finally realized what path I was taking, and chose to turn around. I feel stronger for knowing my weaknesses and doing the daily work to remind myself why I’m here. I’m grateful.

I’m sober.

I’d like to see a heroin store on my block.

Today is day three for me, and I am slogging and sifting through the emotional fall-out of Saturday night. I am badly shaken, and fell asleep to myself saying, “You can do this. Thank God the night didn’t end differently. You can do this…” — and, yes, I do truly believe that.

Last night, I was watching my beloved trashy TV on Bravo, when an ad for Bailey’s came on. Now, Bailey’s has never been a drink I enjoyed, nor ever thought much about. But seeing this ridiculous advertisement (seriously, Bailey’s? You have grown women wrapped in swaths of taupe-colored fabric, shimmying around to sell your coffee flavored liqueur?) made me think…now where are the fucking ads for other substances? I’d like to see that heroin store, or perhaps the cocaine billboard greeting me as I drive to work. Maybe some happy actors popping pills to the tune of Christmas carols. No?

Yeah, that doesn’t happen. But it certainly does with the devil on my shoulder: alcohol.

Before anyone gets their knickers in a knot – I’m being a tad facetious. What I’m getting at is the pervasive nature of alcohol; its glimmering advertisements, go-get-’em posters, and  presence at an overwhelming majority of festivities and celebrations. It’s fucking everywhere, especially when you’re learning to leave it the hell behind.

Substance abuse and addiction is a rotten, difficult thing. But I have to think that the level at which we encourage & celebrate alcohol consumption makes alcoholism quite different from battling an illicit drug addiction. If you give up free-basing, I’m guessing your aunt and uncle wn’t ask you if you’d like to partake at Thanksgiving. Champagne? Wine? Beer? These are things I need to learn to be around, much as I’d like to never see them again. SIGH BITCH WHINE MOAN COMPLAIN STOMP MY GODDAMNED FEET.

As I told myself last night, laying in bed, alternating between waves of remorse and blissful moments of confidence – yes, I can do this. And YOU can do this. We can do this.