Maybe a year was a little too exuberant of me. Maybe I should have said a month or even a week. I think a week would have been a good test to my self-control. A year just seems extreme. Hell, I've been thinking about alcohol since yesterday afternoon, how the hell am I going to last a year?! I mean, it's a nice gesture, but shit. A person can really only do so much! The thought that has been coming to mind lately is "damn, I could use a drink right now". I don't think I'm an alcoholic, but I sure am dependent. I feel extremely naked and vulnerable. Which reminds me, my Christmas tree has been striped of all it's ornaments and lights and is currently flashing the neighbors in a reckless manner as it stands helplessly in front of the window. It's awkward for everyone. Mostly me because I can't stop staring at it. So sad and pathetic, its branches drooping under the weight of itself. I feel ya, tree...I feel ya.
Um, so this is pretty much like day one, give or take. And it's not like I haven't given it up before. A month or two ago I tried to quit for a good month then blew it by dressing up as Rufio from Hook, getting smashed at La Salles while being carried around by dudes on the dance floor, pretty much forgetting the rest of the night right up until I stumbled in my living room, taking out a side table and a candle holder. We all survived, but really, it was quite traumatic...the candle holder is still in therapy.
Needless to say the stumble was a wake-up call. Lucky it was just me at home and no one saw the spectacle...except maybe the neighbors, but I'm sure the naked tree distracted them. Or so I hope. Either way, I realized what it meant to fall off the wagon.
Falling off the wagon is about as painful as it sounds. Imagine a horse pulling a covered wagon running through a bumpy terrain, cider and raw hides bouncing all over the place at "high speeds" of 20 miles an hour...then fall off the damn thing onto the rough terrain. Now times that by 9 and minus two...it's kind of like that, give or take. In other words, you just about double your intake of alcohol to make up for the days you weren't drinking. And its all subconscious...you don't necessarily intend to get schmammered, but you forget how "fun" it was and how "good" it felt and forgot how much hangovers hurt. So in the end, you just ruined all your hard work and doubled your trouble. Keep in mind, though, my choice to dress as Rufio was a completely sober decision based on metaphors and a love for feathers alone.
So, back to my original thought...a year is a bit rash. I don't want to make promises I can't keep, but I refuse to let myself give up on myself. Something about the challenge is exhilarating, though exhausting to take in. It's like knowing you have 20 reps of the worst workout ever in which 2 reps alone make you want to vomit. But, if you take it one motion and breath at a time, before you know it, you've done 25 reps, easy peasy. (Yes, I said peasy. Shut it).
So, currently I am taking it minutes and hours at a time. Not in a dramatic way, but in a way that when it is in front of me, I decide that at that moment I will not drink. Or knowing it's in the pantry tempting me *as I turn around and scream "Shut up, Jameson! I'm not talking to you anymore!"*. I don't think about tomorrow or three weeks from now or even in an hour from that moment. I decide that that moment alone is a moment I decided that I will not do it. And never was a moment harder than that one....I just can't think of all the others I am about to run into...
I'm having a bit of a "twilight zone" moment. My ex-best friend Jack and I had 3 straight months of pure bliss which ended when I very nearly destroyed my marriage. I've never been much of a drinker (save for a few crazy years in highschool anyway) however, one day I picked up a bottle of Jack and didn't put it down for 3 months. I had always been a fan of bourbon. Who knew I could put back bottles without so much as a little spin? I was keeping up with the best of them. And when the best passed out, I kept chugging along so to speak. I was on the fast track to becoming a full fledged, carbon copy of my mother -in-law, DRUNK. I'm thankful for my son. Without sitting down and taking a good look at what I was setting him up for, I'd probably have kept right on drinking. I'm not saying I'm an alcoholic, but I've never met another female (till now) who could throw back whiskey like a marine (and Ive drank a few of them under the table)
ReplyDeleteI can't claim to know what you're feeling on your journey. I can tell you however, that for me it wasn't nearly as hard as quitting smoking (which I've yet to do)