The Beast is Only Sleeping

My last post was all about how it felt to be in New York watching people drink.  It was about how I could stand back and think about where I was and how it felt to be there and how damn grateful I am to be where I am now.  Truthfully, the whole time I was there I didn't really want to drink.  There weren't any significant cravings in spite of the fact that I could smell some really, really good wine from time to time.  It was likely because we were so busy and there was no time to think about drinking.  It didn't hurt that the people I was with really didn't drink either - there was probably only a half a glass of wine consumed the entire trip (which left me thinking...who does that?)

But make no mistake, that god damned beast was lying in wait to jump up and bite my ass as soon as I let my guard down.  She did it on Saturday...bitch.

The cake table from Saturday's party.

I threw a birthday party for a dear friend on Saturday.  It was her 40th so not only did it have to be fun, it had to be spectacular.  She had never had a real party thrown for her and I wanted to take her breath away.  After all of the decorations were up, the food was out, I was dressed and in full makeup and the beer and wine and sodas were iced, I was hit with one of the biggest cravings for a glass (bottle) of wine that I've had since I got sober.  I couldn't figure out why until I remembered that was when I would always "get the party started" so to speak.  Before the guests arrived and I started being the hostess with the mostest, I would crack a bottle and have the one (or two) glasses that would mellow me out and get me ready for the evening.

Fuck.

Double fuck.

Now let's be clear, I know how to handle my cravings - this ain't exactly my first rodeo - but I was so disappointed because it really did put a damper on my fun.  Of course, I didn't even come close to picking up.  I did however, become hyper aware of what everyone else was drinking...that's where the irony came in...no one was really drinking.  Or, I guess a more accurate statement would be that people were drinking like normal people drink at a 40th birthday party to which they drove and brought their kids.  Totally foreign behavior.  Fascinating.

Of course the bitch then proceeded to hang around all freaking weekend - once she's awake she's hard to put back to sleep.  We decorated the house on Sunday and several times throughout the day I thought, "This is when I would have started thinking about that first glass of wine," or "This is when I would have sat to admire my work and had a glass of wine."  Not as bad as Saturday evening but still there just the same.



My downstairs tree - I let the kids decide the lights...they chose the colored LED variety.

  

I love decorating my banister.



...and my mantle.

Now, before you begin to think that this is a really bad thing and why in the hell would anyone quit drinking if they are still going to have moments like this and damn, why can't all of this just stop....let me share some other tidbits.

1.  I did not and will not pick up a drink.  I'm just bitching because this is the best place to air those feelings.  There are people out here who will comment, and support and help to guide me through something like this.  And I'll listen because I know they've been there.

2.  I said it put a damper on my fun.  It, by no means, kept me from having a helluva time at the party.  I laughed so hard at one point my cheeks hurt and when we played the video my son and I did for her with her baby pictures and happy birthday wishes from everyone...I cried.

3.  My decorations went up on Sunday and my Christmas Spirit is in full swing.  In fact, by the end of the day yesterday I swear I could hear my beast singing a very sober version of "Deck the Halls"...off key of course.

4.  And, most importantly, my worst day sober is still better than my best day drinking.  And that's a stone cold fact.

Namaste