Dreams are weird

Dreams are weird

The days fly by, I count them with the plop of the retainer cleaner. One blue glass at a time. One blue glass a day. One day. One day. One week. One month. It’s crazy. The time. It flies. 

A whirl of colors. A whirl of experiences. A whirl of thoughts. A whirl of words. I never get them back. The colors. The experiences. The thoughts. The words. See them. Feel them. Remember them. Hear them. 

Always waiting. Every night. Every evening. Hurry up time. Pass quicker. Pass faster. Wishing it away. The one thing I never get back. Telling it (time) it’s okay to go. I need you to go. Hurry up and go. 

I try to save half. I really try. But just a tad bit more. A topper offer. But then, then there’s not enough for tomorrow night’s buzz. So it starts again. The cycle. The cycle of trying to not do it. The strong in the morning, weak in the afternoon cycle. Why can’t I? Why can’t I just be? 

Have you been there? I was there and I was there a lot. I got to that point around 4 pm or after and started thinking about it. After all, it’s normal, isn’t it? Everyone does it. We are told we can’t make it through our day without it. We are told we are so much happier with it. We are told we need it to cope with our fucking miserable lives. It makes us happy, right? 

I stopped believing that bullshit. I stopped believing that it can be healthy. I stopped believing that I needed it to survive, to cope, to make it through my day. See, I finally quit following the sheep. I became aware that alcohol was no longer serving me. It was no longer serving my body or my health. I got tired of burning off that morning fog with caffeine. I bet you know what I mean. The foggy brain. The foggy mind. Having to get up and get moving. Not wanting to . Wanting to just get back into bad and snuggle up with the beautiful warm sheets and blankets, wrapping around your body. Getting that coffee going. Kicking in. Hurry up. Time again. Time. Passing. Wishing it away. 

A dream prompted this post. I had a dream that I drank margaritas with friends. It was so strange. It felt so real. But this isn’t who I am anymore. I was worried. I thought I blew it. I thought long and hard when I woke up. I wondered why, why now? It’s been almost two years since I have had a drop of alcohol. Was this a final farewell thing, or was this a this isn’t a forever thing? I wondered. 

I don’t miss drinking. It’s one of the best decisions I have made for my health and my life. I will tell anybody who asks me about it. It slowed me down. It slowed down my getting to enjoy this life. It set me back. My health was suffering. It does make a difference. It will catch up with you and then it will be there, tapping you on the shoulder, whispering in your ear. Baiting you. Convincing you. Bringing all its friends to sit with you. Telling you it’s okay. Telling you no one will know. Telling you it’s just one damn night, what’s the big deal? Telling. Taunting. Convincing. 

You want to be strong. It wants you to be weak. You want to stand up. It wants you to sit down. You want to break free. It wants to tie you down. Hands. Feet. Control. Ears hearing. Eyes seeing. The silent voice, not silent. Pushing you. Goading you. Urging you. Telling you. All those voices. Getting louder. Incessant with their chatter. Trying. Trying to get you. Wanting to destruct you.

No more. I fought back. I am strong. I am not weak. I stood up. I broke free. I silenced the voices. I pushed back against them. 

I do not feel the need to drink. I do not feel the need to numb myself. I do not feel the need to escape. I feel. And that’s enough. 

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