There is a whole new world that exists after 7 p.m. It’s 10:29, and I just got home from a 1.8 mile run. Before that I made dinner for my siblings. Before that, I faced down reality and spent 90 minutes with an accountant and wrote out the first of many triple-digit checks. We may hit $1,000 before it’s all said and done, but I’ll be free. Not free from the repercussions, but free from the unknowing, the looming worry, the fear, the constant guilt. Yeah, free from that.

So, 21 days safely in the box. Three solid weeks, solid being the operative word.

I don’t have enough time these days. I ducked out of work early at 3:30 and haven’t stopped since. It’ll be 11:00 before I sit down and have a breather.

Now, I’m not saying I like this hectic pace long-term, but it’s an important reminder to me right now about just how much I can accomplish when I’m not jumping down the bottle.

I have...

I have an appointment this afternoon to start confronting just how bad the financial fallout is from my gambling in the form of monies owed to Uncle Sam. I can say that I kept the mortgage up and most of the other big things, but I did that by spending money that was due to the government.

It is time to pay the piper, and I think we’re going to be looking at owning about what the average American makes in one year. This makes me sick, as I have nothing to show for it, except a tumbling composter and a trip to New Orleans. The rest of my winnings I either frittered away or gave back to the casino, all while racking up huge bills.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to me, then, that I was - am - having HUGE cravings to gamble and drink and otherwise escape my reality today, the reality I made decision after decision to create.

It makes it tough because even though I’ve given my husband...

21 days today. 21 flipping days. Wow. The only benchmark I have to use is my previous all-time-high of 31 days. I feel very good about achieving that. Heck, I feel very good about achieving 90 days.

At this point, I like being sober. There isn’t one thing I feel I’ve missed out on in three weeks. Not one. Except hangovers, but I’m getting to be a broken record about that, I suppose.

The house is still a mess, but it’s the mess of progress. It’s the mess of things changing. It’s the mess of action, not the mess of hibernation, despair and drinking. A subtle, but important, difference.

Time is just flying by, boy. Seems I no sooner wake up than it’s time for bed again. For the first time in a good while, I’m working on projects around the house that I am super jazzed about.

I wish there were more hours in the day. And not just because I want to stay up to drink and watch crap TV.

So, A for enthusiasm. D for organization and accompanying serenity, though. Feeling overcrowded with stuff and things. I want less stuff and things. I feel a big, healthy purge coming on.

The less stuff I have, the less I have to take care of. Then again, maybe I just want different stuff.

Speaking of different stuff, I may have had a breakthrough on my future work. I spoke it into the universe, planted the seed on this full moon. I’ll be good as long as I remain honest, open-minded and willing to change.

A good mix of excited, hazy and scared shitless on day 20.

Shit, sailed right through day 18 and already onto 19. It felt good to honor my word and complete some outstanding work and to start updating the guest room, which has looked more like a storage bin than anything. It’s amazing what $80, time not occupied by gambling and hangover-free body can accomplish.

Something in my head is trying to get out. I can’t name the feeling. Longing? Sadness? Anxiety? Fear?

I don’t know, but it’s hanging out in the bottom of my tummy. I am tired.

Is this my life? This, here, tonight? Sitting on the couch, eating food, watching TV? My husband seems content with things. Does his happiness have to come at the sacrifice of mine? But am I really unhappy, or just bored? Aren’t they the same thing?

Tired. Out of balance. Bored. Really glad I didn’t drink tonight. I can hang my hat on that even if I don’t have anything else to hang my hat on … or even have a hat.

What is going on with this week? Holy Moses. Such strife, much drama, so unhappiness. Me, my friends, co-workers. Bonkers, I tell you.

Another hard-fought day, but I’m feeling pretty good that I’ll ring the register on 17 days before it’s all over. 17 days. Again, bonkers.

I don’t feel any giant shifts. I really don’t. I’m not gleefully happy. But it’s weird. It’s just like alcohol is not an option for me right now. Like, obviously, it exists - I know it’s there but for some reason, my brain is suddenly trained on the fact that it’s not something I do anymore. I can’t explain it. Like a switch has been turned off.

I’m mighty grateful, though. I can tell you that. This week has sucked dogwater, and I am certain that it would have been exponentially more hellacious with a hangover.

Thank you lord for looking out for me during this. In the past, feeling stressed out, frustrated...

The urge to drink has passed. Now I’m just tired and dreading tomorrow. And the next day.

Perhaps there is something to the Kindly Orthodox Jew’s low-level, long-term depression.

Regrets. I’ve had a few. Including the fact that I have a dog that I don’t particularly like. She’s difficult. It’s my fault as the owner; I know this. But I actually started to blame the dog for my unhappiness today, which is just crackers.

Listen, I know this. Typing this stuff out helps me get a handle on just how jacked up the stuff in my head is. But that’s precisely why I have to type it. My thinking is faulty.

I’m tired. I’m going to bang out 20 more minutes of work, and then I’m done. It will be here tomorrow.

Closer today to drinking than I have been in the past 16 days. Just a shitload of stressful projects converging at work, none that are really in my control. I’m at the mercy of other people to make these projects work, and I hate it

Hate it.

I hate group projects in general because other people just muck things up. Or slow them down. Or generally are annoying.

I am so fried right now, and I don’t even know what sounds appealing to talk myself down out of this state. Nothing sounds good because it all takes effort. I want the easy relief of drinking. I want it all to go away. I want everyone to go away and leave me alone.

Haven’t felt strung so tight in a really long time. And I have so much EXTRA work to do that even when this shit is resolved, I’m not done for the day. Not even close.

Lord, help. Help. Help. Please help me through this. I’m not on the edge yet, but I’m just a few...

Lord, please help me to be honest with myself and others, remain open-minded and willing to change. That should just about cover any challenges I come up against today.

Passing the two-week mark is surreal to me, folks. Surreal. Just as surreal that it’s been two weeks and I’m realizing that I was the one who was giving alcohol this great importance. I thought SO MUCH in my life revolved around alcohol - friends, family functions, my husband, blah, blah, blah.

Turns out, I was the one who was giving it priority. Well, how do you like that?

Today, I hope I can stay open-minded enough to remember that “the old way” isn’t the best way, that I don’t always have the right answer and the “new” isn’t the same as “bad.”