I had one of those awful memories yesterday. You know the ones...something happens and all of a sudden you remember something from your drinking days that makes you feel like shit. Yeah...those.
The oldest-at-home and I went to get the hubs a new phone after work yesterday and then stopped by the school to drop it off. Everyone is in full out crazy mode because the musical opens on Thursday. One twin is the lead and the other has built the set (along with help from the hubs). Once again I was struck by how blessed I am to not only have the best six kids on the planet but also to be married to the best husband/father on the planet. These drama productions have brought us even closer as a family and I'm grateful that we've been sucked into the vortex.
We stopped by the store on the way home to pick up a few things and began chatting about all of the school's productions since they started attending there. That's when the memory hit. It came and punched me in the gut and almost brought tears to my eyes.
See...I've been to most of the school productions...but not all. The first few I didn't get to because I was too busy with my ass in the chair sucking down a couple of bottles of wine a night. Go to a high school play? Puh-lease. That kind of stuff just doesn't interest me. Oh...my kids want to go? Well then I'll go and see it one night but that's it. By the way, how long does it last?
In other words...don't bother me, I'm drinking.
Then I got sober. And about the same time, the kids began to get really involved. And so that's when we started to get really involved. Then last year's musical is when I started the "I-want-to-see-every-rehearsal-and-performance" syndrome of which I now gladly suffer. I even sit in a different place in the auditorium every night so I get a different view of the performance. It gives me such joy to see how hard these kids work and then watch them as they grow and succeed. I cry a lot at these things...they are tears of joy and gratitude. My hands are bruised and sore by the end of the season from clapping so long and so loud. I've usually lost my voice because I've been hooting and yelling "Bravo!" And my hamstrings and quads are a little stronger from all the standing ovations I've given them.
I am so grateful for these sucker punch memories. They keep me sober. I wouldn't trade my life now for all the Chardonnay in California.
Namaste
Yeah it really does help eh... I chucked a couple in my last post too... the longer we get from that boozy loser the harder it is to remember why we gave up. Never forget... never forget... xxxx
ReplyDeleteJust read your comment back to me on the last post... I forgot about your dedicated yoga room! But what music do you have in there? I am finding music is the best way to give me happy endorphins right now... maybe it's a hangover (pun intended!!) from my humungous dance I did at the last wedding where I felt sooooo happy! Get some cheesy pop tunes going (try the ones I wrote in my last post, they are very mainstream and cheesy but they do make me feel happy!).. use headphones if you need to .. it's such a lovely release I think! xxxx
ReplyDeleteDon't bother me, I'm drinking. Whoa. That one hit home.
ReplyDeleteAnd dear lord I can totally see you cheering your heart out. That I'm so proud of my children I could actually burst feeling. Hurrah.
Namaste. :)
The bad memories make the good one that much sweeter. As hard as they are on our hearts, they keep us pinned to sobriety and grateful. Clap another round for me.
ReplyDeleteThanks for this. I needed it.
ReplyDeleteWell said! We get those little shots now and then, those sort of painful reminders of who were used to be, how we used to act, where our minds were most of the time. It sometimes hurts, sometimes stings, sometimes just gives us slight buzz in our ear. I usually swat them away, but they do leave a little mark on me at times. Cringe-worthy marks at that. But I think that is just part of recovery, and they will come, and they are reminders we aren't there any more. We have moved on...it's like thinking about an old high school flame. Yeah, there might be that quick flush of old excitement, but we are so past that.
ReplyDeleteGreat stuff!
Paul