In the Calm
Welp, the counselor made the very suggestion that I thought he would: I should give up drinking … but just 90 days. “Most people would say they could not drink 90 days. Let’s try.”
I sputtered a bit, and he pointed out that I was sputtering because I have a relationship to alcohol. No doy, sir. “If I asked you to give up cauliflower for 90 days,” he said, “You might think I was a bit nuts, but you could do it no problem. That’s because cauliflower is emotionally neutral.”
I’m glad I mentally prepared for it, or else I might have been a bit defensive. 90 days he said to “re balance” my mind and help me find the excitement in everyday life. Our path, he told me, is to try and dissolve some long-term, low-level depression I’ve been living in. Pretty spot on, actually. To the outside world, I’m getting it done. But I know inwardly that all is not well. So, low-grade stuff but debilitating none-the-less.
He also suggested I exercise 30 minutes a day and meditate to help me to enjoy being “in the calm” - all excellent ideas and, while pretty fundamental stuff and nothing new or earth-shattering, it carries a different weight coming from a kindly Orthodox Jew who, believe or not, has been to casino and can identify with the allure of gambling.
Interestingly, when I told him that it was simple for me to agree with the first step of GA and admit that I was a compulsive gambler, that my life had become unmanageable and that I could never, ever gamble again, he essentially, “Whoa, Nellie’d” me.
Very surprising, considering that’s all I’ve heard for six months from fellow GA folks. Not, of course, that he said I had license to go back to the casino and fully agreed that my judgment when gambling was poor, but he asked that I not be so quick diagnose my gambling as such. “I think you need to have a few more years under your belt. Of your 34 years, you only had a problem gambling for 3 of them. Let’s keep it in perspective.”
I’m not sure if I’m relieved or pissed off about that. It was much easier thinking “nope, never, ever again. Never.” Maybe I can someday gamble “normally” again … but maybe not. The gray areas are tough for me.
I told my sweet husband about the 90-day challenge, which is how I’m looking at it. I tried to joke it off, saying our wine bill would be lower, but, truthfully and as you folks know, it’s a little daunting for me. I haven’t been sober for 90 days since … roughly 1999. Shit, that’s 15 years. I suppose that’s reason enough in itself to do this.
I’m under no illusions it will be easy, but I racked up 3 days last week, so I know I can get at least that far. Joking/not joking.
Thinking the best way to tackle this with friends and family is honesty. “I’ve been feeling low, so I met with a counselor. He says the best way to re-balance the chemicals in my brain is to stop drinking for a bit. So, that’s what I’m doing.”
No grand gestures. No sweeping confessions. No forevers. Just, “So, that’s what I’m doing.”
Excited/nervous/relieved/worried/pissed off/fearful/over it/ready.
That about sums it up.