Tomorrow is my husband’s birthday, and I worry I didn’t do enough. He’s fairly particular about celebrating on the actual day and he’s working 14 hours tomorrow so I’m not sure how that will work. But I got him an item he’s been suggesting we get for awhile now and I wrote out a very nice card. I don’t know. It all feels fake.

My body hurts in ways that don’t seem normal. Sharp pains, dull aches. I feel old and worn down. And my friend is having a hell of a hard time with pregnancy. I don’t know what that has to do with anything but I needed to say it.

30 days. To celebrate, I’m going to take my sad, sore self to bed.

I’ve been feeling low and unmotivated, and then I realized I haven’t been writing here much. It does help to unburden my mind here on this screen.

Just tired, very tired. I thought when I stopped drinking (30 days today, believe it or not) that, if nothing else, I’d have more energy and feel better. While it’s fantastic not being hung over, I can’t say I feel exactly spritely. Perhaps my expectations are too high.

Or, perhaps I’m working too much. Or, perhaps I have too many financial what-ifs looming over my head. Or perhaps I’m realizing that my marriage may not ever be what I want it to be, and so I’ll have to make a decision there - either accept it or move on. Or perhaps I hate my job and I worry that leaving it would burn some bridges that I don’t want to burn just yet.

Perhaps.

Well, one thing I do know: writing here helps. So, I will continue that, and aim for once a day, at...

Whoo, I am struggling today. I keep envisioning having a drink and feeling that warm, loose feeling it gives me. I think it’s partly weather-related, partly that I’ve spent most of my work day doing stuff for the house and partly because my husband is off today and left to enjoy some golf with a friend.

I don’t begrudge him that, I honestly don’t. But I know that he’s going to come home fairly buzzed and … my first thought was to write, “It will be easier to deal with him if I’m drunk, too.”

Wow. I do find myself irritated at him when he’s at home upsetting my routine. Isn’t that something? I mean, my routine - I’m just here working typically. Is it that I’m jealous that he’s not working?

I think it might be. So, my brain, feeling jealous, says, “Hey, go ahead and blow 28 days of sobriety to quiet that little green monster.”

No, thank you. I will not. I’m going to continue getting...

Starting to wonder if not drinking might go on longer than 90 days, a good while longer, in fact.

Also starting to wonder if my marriage would survive it. That sounds dramatic, and maybe I mean to be, but while my husband is a super sweet guy with a great heart, he doesn’t bring a lot to the table. There, I said it.

But, wait. What do I mean? Even I’m not sure except that I don’t view him as an equal. In some areas, I’m superior, and there are some where he leads. Is that how it’s supposed to work? I feel like I should have married my “match” but, then again, maybe there is no such thing as a match. Maybe the best we can hope for is someone we like who is kind to us.

The truth is, if we had a better sex life - hell, any sex life - I would say I have a wonderful marriage. But we haven’t had sex in two months, and the last time we did was so-so and came after another two month drought.

Didn’t have much to say for day 26. I skipped my GA meeting Saturday - sort of on purpose accidentally - and have felt guilty since then. But otherwise, it was a nice, sober weekend where I crossed off two items on my “scared to do sober” list: going to a bar and going to a movie.

Our theater sells beer and wine, and we’d always sneak in extra wine so that “going to movie” was also code for “drinking damn near a bottle of wine each in the span of the movie and getting shitfaced so that the rest of the day was a total wash.”

The movie was just as enjoyable with a diet Dr. Pepper and a pack of Twizzlers, and I cam home and worked in the garden afterward.

I’m realizing I used to compartmentalize my days so extremely. There was “before drinking” and “after drinking.” I’ve read many sober bloggers who customarily planned staying home after 7 p.m. so they wouldn’t drive drunk and, yeah...

I was in a bar tonight, and I had fun listening to live music and talking with friends, all while drinking water.

I think, most of all, I’m grateful that I’ve made it through all of the things that I perceived as difficult or not fun sober and have found that they’re not only easier to do sober but I’m not sure I ever found them fun … but at least now I can be present enough to find something to enjoy.

What I mean is, at least in regard to tonight, I don’t think I ever would have been hopped up to go to a crowded bar and listen to mediocre music. Before,whilst drinking, I probably would have been anxious and concerned what others were thinking of me when I walked through the door and would have drank to make it tolerable. I would have felt trapped and counting the minutes until I could go … until I got drunk and stopped giving a shit.

Tonight, I realized no one cared a whit about me...

Yes, definitely weakening here. I considered drinking today. Not seriously, not intently, but I did. I think what I’m feeling is sad for myself. Lonely. Tired. Worried about finances. Rinse repeat.

25 fucking days is no joke. But I haven’t talked to my best friend, or made love with my husband, or tried anything new (except not drinking) in 25 days. So, what’s my point? Nothing changes if nothing changes.

I’m feeling rough and unsettled and exhausted. And my husband is out for a beer.

I’m not entirely sure we’re going to make it, he and I. I don’t think I want to have kids. I’ll close with that. Sleep on it and see how that feels in the morning.

More than three weeks sober, hot damn. I can’t even believe myself how easy it’s been. Honestly. I mean, it’s my third or fourth sober weekend, and I’m actually looking forward to it! Looking forward to what I’ll get done and projects I’ll start and the honest-to-God opportunity to truly rest my mind and my bones.

It’s crazy to think about that just 24 days ago, I was fearful of this time, worried I’d be going crazy, climbing the walls. Now I want things to slow down.

I don’t know why this has been so easy, but I’m grateful. And, it makes me wonder what other things in my life I have built up to be so very difficult that probably really aren’t. Perhaps quitting my job. Perhaps getting my finances in order. Perhaps pursuing other dreams that have long been buried.

The possibilities are endless. But, if I know anything - and I do know a few things - it’s that I should take things slow...

Trying to be mindful because I feel a slight shift in myself - not a particularly positive one, like a backslide of sorts.

I went to a modern Christian church in my late teens where, side by side bad apples fresh from juvie who were supposedly reformed and good lambs who had always grown up in the church, I accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as my personal savior. Aside my ticket to heaven, I also learned the word “backslide” and it’s always been one of my secret favorite phrases.

But back to my backslide … I haven’t done anything yet, but I feel the vigilance weakening. I feel laziness creeping in. I feel vulnerable in a way that I haven’t in the past 23 days.

Of course, it could just be that I’m tired and coming off of several really challenging weeks of work and longer days. It could just be that.

I don’t know. Tonight I’m going to hunker down, watch multiple hours of TV and get to...

It seems odd to write that I was proud of myself for going to support my sister and her husband in a big endeavor of theirs but that’s the way I feel. Proud that I didn’t screw it up, or take attention away from them by arriving late and disheveled, proud that I could be present and available to support them - and present in that I wasn’t distracted by a hangover, or by being slightly buzzed from pre-event wine, or even taken out of the moment by the thought of, “When is this thing over so I can go home and drink?”

No, I was just there, simply part of it all, a member of the crowd. And I remember all of it, and I can debrief with them about it thoughtfully later on and share my feedback about the event because I was there.

And, yes, there was the obligatory awkward small talk often associated with Events, capital E, but my conversations with these very same people in the past have...