Fuzzy
Am I really on the evening of 70 days sober? Because that means I’m on the evening of about 80 days gamble free, which is my longest stretch and only 10 more days to the all-mighty 90 (though there is no graduation, I know. I know. I know already, geez.)
But here’s something worrisome: My memory is terrible even sober. Apparently I wrote a post last night. I remember writing it, so that’s good. But could I tell you one golden doodle thing I wrote? No. No, sir.
I worry I’ve got Alzheimers or some such. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the ass?
But, then, I also worry I’m pregnant despite evidence or rationale.
I am just a worrisome person.
How about I just worry about stayinh sober for at least 20 more days, eh?
Things are better. Remember when I couldn’t even fathom the idea of staying sober in a hotel room? Staying sober away from home? Staying sober while eating dinner? Hell, eating dinner in a place that didn’t serve alcohol? Remember when I used to call buying alcohol “getting provisions” like I was going on a goddamn expedition?
Yeah, remember all that? Remember waking up so hungover I’d need to chug a bottle of water before I even got out of bed? But I hadn’t slept well because I’d gotten up four or five times to pee in the middle of the night?
Remember how my guts would boil and my eyes were red and I’d tell people I had allergies to explain the bloodshot eyes. Remember being so sick to my stomach that I could barely walk down the hall?
Remember all that? That wasn’t very long ago, my dear. It’s not been a perfect 69 days, but it’s been a much better 69 days than it would have been if you’d been drinking. Don’t you forget how gloriously unhappy you were and how strikingly you used to hurt yourself with alcohol and its brood: bad decisions, lying, isolation, exhaustion, avoidance, denial, guilt, shame, shame, shame. Remember them?
They’re still circling outside your house ready to pounce. I know you’ve been thinking that drinking would probably be OK, that you’ve come this far so it proves you don’t have a problem. You don’t need a diagnoses or a terrible thing to occur to know that you have a problem with alcohol.
You can call it (or don’t call it) whatever you want, but the simple fact is that you’ve felt more like yourself in recent weeks than you have in a decade. So, you can test and tempt yourself by drinking and maybe you’ll be “lucky” and find out that it’s not gambling that’s helping you feel better. Or maybe you won’t be so lucky and you’ll find that not drinking was helping you get back to yourself.
How about you just trust yourself for once and accept that you’re really far better off not drinking … if only for now? You haven’t missed out on a single thing in 69 days except hangovers and dread. You haven’t. You know it’s true.
It’s also true you need to find a way to help quiet your mind. I’ll grant you that. But that liquid lover isn’t it, my dear. He may quiet your mind momentarily, but he’ll rile up all of the beasts and incite their snarling and yelping quicker than you realize.
So, let it be, OK? Just love yourself enough to let it be.