I’m still here and today was five weeks alcohol free. I’ve never made it this far before and it feels alright. I am still waiting for the magic (magic! magic! stop being so coy!), but I am the first to admit that I may have been hoping for too much, too soon. I am still in the two-month “Valley of Emotion” (see previous post), and I know, I know, I just have to slog through. This shit is hard. Just ask anybody.
Thank god for the accountability I feel to my intensive (IRL) group or I may have caved by now, just out of boredom or disappointment (with myself or others), or out of a deep desire to feel good and loved and held. Because, you know that bad boyfriend I had, red wine? Yeah, he was a big dick most of the time, but sometimes he pretended reeaal good.
So…my urges and desire to drink come and go, but my resolve is extremely high.
A friend of mine posted this to Instagram last week and it was like an arrow to my heart. I love her and I’m so happy for her (her boyfriend is awesome), but it was basically my worst alcohol-free nightmare:
One of her hashtags was #datenight and I think the other was #makingtimeforeachother.
And all I could think about was:
How am I ever going to have an amazingly romantic moment like this when I can’t drink that bottle if sparkling rosé??
I have since talked myself down off the you’ll-be-single-forever ledge, but I still half wonder how that whole thing will work out.
And I reminded myself that I’m way ahead of myself. (Yes, I do a lot of talking to myself.) Because until I really start to love myself and build a life I am in love with, that dream/fantasy romance ain’t going to happen anyway.
At least that’s what all the sober and/or relationship gurus say. 🙂
So, suffice to say, it is clearer by the day that this (cheesy, cliché) quote is true:
Take the alcohol out of your life, and you are left with…
Yep. That shit is cliché for a reason. I have a perfectly fine life — seriously, I feel like a whiner with all my first-world problems — but all the time I spent throwing wine down my neck hole has kept me from building something I really love. And that’s the hard reality of quitting drinking, and why I’ve started drinking again so many times before: I have to spend a whole lot of time with myself, and that can be a lonely, conflicted, unsatisfying place. So naturally, the answer
is was to drink to make it better!
My intensive group leaders call this “dangerously misguided self care.” Yeah, I’ll say.
In my brighter moments, I expect to pull out of this grey funkadelic zone, because I do recognize that the mental and emotional gymnastics are part of the trial and there is an end to this period of existential hazing. I trust. I do. Another three or four weeks of feeling like this and hopefully (oh please baby Jesus Mother Mary Joseph) the grey will begin to lift, and this feeling like I’m caught in a murky psychic purgatory will begin to lift too.
“Let the beauty we love, be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kiss the ground.”
Yes, this. The next step. I am committed to cultivating my curiosity about the things I love, and building my life around them. Step-by-step. To “kiss the ground” with what I love. And to begin to find my joy.
I thought a good way to start would be to take a photo every day for the next 30 days of something I’m grateful for, something I wouldn’t necessarily have experienced or noticed when I was drinking.
Tonight I went on a long walk with my dog, Bub, and watched the sun go down over the Cascade mountains. When I was drinking I would have been well into a bottle of wine by now, and this would not have happened.
I’m so very grateful for my Bub, and I’m grateful for the beautiful evening walk in Seattle.
I’m going to breath it in tonight and really try to believe it in my bones. To be grateful for so much. So much.
Holding on and keeping the faith… Let the bigger yes be worth it.