Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Right now, I'm really wishing that I wasn't an alcoholic. These work events are starting to get to me and I'm not looking forward to the one we have tonight. I thought it was just because this one is in an actual bar but we had one earlier this week in a beautiful museum, catered by a wonderful caterer and all I could obsess about was the wine. It's like my senses are heightened and I can smell it so much better now (well...there actually might be some truth to that), and so all I can see and smell is wine at these things.
I also think it's a hoot that tomorrow I will be exactly 2 years and 6 months sober and I thought I was going to sail through this summer and all of these events because I was soooooo good at this "being sober" thing.
Man plans...God laughs.
I don't want to drink and I won't drink. Okay...that's not entirely true. I would love to have a glass of wine. I know how it would feel and I know what it would taste like. I know that feeling of warmth and that feeling of confidence as the warmth spreads and my endorphins begin to fire. I love the feel of a wineglass in my hand. I love to reach for it on the bar and take a sip. I love to signal for a refill.
And I would love to be able to do that only once over the course of an entire evening and then get in my car and go home...but that's not my story. It really never was. I am an alcoholic and since I can't go back to all the shit and circumstance that goes along with my particular way of drinking - there's not a chance I am going to pick up.
The hell of it is that while I know, intellectually, that I'm in a better place now as a sober person, my body and brain tell a different story when I am in a bar (or at reception/mixer for that matter). My brain betrays my intellect and I remember all the good times the hubs and I had in bars, (and there were many, many good times) and how we would seek out great bars wherever we went. (We once scoured the island of Oahu in search of the perfect Mai Tai only to find it was in a little Tiki Bar back at our hotel.) My body betrays my intellect and my mouth begins to water and there's a knot in the pit of my stomach and I become very distracted and can't keep up with the conversation.
I'm all, "look at me and how brave and wonderful I am to be here holding it all together don't I have amazing willpower" on the outside and all, "shit, shit, shit I hate being here when can I go home and why won't she just shut up and for god's sake please don't order another bottle of wine", on the inside.
And it's only wine that really bothers me (sometimes a beer but only when it's hot outside). These are beer and wine only events, but one of my co-workers is a pretend diva, so I always have a Cosmo waiting for her when we arrive. She can drink those damn things all night and I'm not bothered by it at all! But let her order a white wine of ANY variety and I'm in full craving mode.
Multiply that by 120 young people (you know, the skinny, young, smart ones I may have mentioned in a prior post), all drinking and partying and whooping and hollering (or chatting if their bosses are invited) and you see what I'm up against.
Or maybe I'm just not as strong as I thought I was.
To tell you the truth, I'm grateful. I'm grateful for these reminders that pop up from time to time and say, "Sit your ass down little girl, you're not nearly as recovered as you think you are." They help me stay humble and in the moment. They also remind me that this disease is cunning and baffling and will bite me in the butt in a New York second if I'm not hyper-vigilant. They remind me to shut up and listen to God when he sends me these gifts.
They remind me that no matter how many years go by I am and will always be an alcoholic and that I should just put my big girl panties on and deal.