One Year Sober – October 21, 2019

At night, when the air is ever so clear, a million things go through my head. A million ideas. A million what ifs, a million thank Gods. Because, really, this is when you feel things more. It’s when you tune in to your body more. It’s when you tune into your feelings more. The things you think about, the things you wonder about and the things you can’t control.

It’s been a year, one year, 365 days, 12 months since I quit drinking. Yes, I will now call it quit drinking, instead of since I had an alcoholic beverage. I have thought about it often. The first few months I thought about it what seemed like all the time. Now I rarely think about it. It’s a habit. It’s a behavior I choose to do it. It may last another year, it may not. I don’t feel any urge or impulse or pressure to drink. 

It seems when a person is contemplating either cutting down on alcohol or abstaining all together, we have a lot of fear about that. Fear of losing our identity. Because we had fun when we drank and we were the life of the party when we drank. We fear we might not be able to have fun or even be fun if we aren’t drinking. We fear we may lose friends. We fear we may lose a part of ourselves. 

All that, that’s on them, not us. 

So we start wondering and thinking and fearing and then wondering some more. Can we just stop. The idea can be overwhelming. I mean, we immediately put ourselves into the mindset that we can’t have it, which of course makes us want it more. And usually pushes us right back over the deep end. Just the idea of that truth can be an obstacle. The truth can be hard to face. But, knowing we need to make a change and thinking about making a change and then actually making the change can take some time. Truth is knocking all the time, but we usually don’t listen. I know I didn’t listen for a long time. 

The tipping point for me. The it’s time to do this point for me. The just fucking do it point for me. The last time I drank. The last time I got drunk. October 21, 2018. That was it. I was done. I drank four glasses of wine. I could feel things slipping away. My senses, my sense of okay you don’t need to drink anymore. You know that feeling, when you are on the brink of too much, but you just want a little bit more. Which always turns into not ever needing that last one. Always and never. 

I feel amazing. I feel like I own my health now. I felt out of control before. I feel like I can do anything. I didn’t before. I don’t miss the lost mornings. I don’t miss burning off the fog with the caffeine. I don’t miss the fuzzy thinking and trying to think clearly, but it just not being there. I wasted so much time. I wasted so much time on weekends. Wasted, as in sitting around waiting for some energy to kick in. Sitting around watching TV. Sitting around, doing nothing. 

The experts say that there is usually an underlying issue when it comes to drinking. Usually to mask emotions or numb emotions or because of something that has happened in the past, or whatever number of reasons. I don’t know if there is anything with me. I think I just drank to drink. I liked the taste of wine. 

Whatever my reasons, I’m happy to be done. It’s time for me to shine and keep working on myself and process things without alcohol. And I’m absolutely fine with that. 

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