tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19580573978769715652024-03-14T05:36:58.456-04:00Oh for the love of...meJust another 50+ woman trying to get her shit together.SoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.comBlogger382125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-50149813748647421812014-02-15T21:10:00.001-05:002014-02-15T21:40:51.987-05:00Moving to WordpressI am so sorry for this but I'm officially moving to Wordpress. I'm doing this because Blogger is not blocking the copious amount of spam I'm getting and I DO NOT want to make you all do the word verification thingy. So with Furtherton and my son's help...off I go.<br />
<br />
Anyway...I hope you come on over and keep following me but I'll understand if you're done with my jumping around.<br />
<br />
http://sobermomwrites.wordpress.com/<br />
<br />
See you there! (I hope.)<br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-38298853685272538512014-02-08T09:18:00.000-05:002014-02-08T09:18:32.193-05:00Read this...I'm seriousI read this blog from this brilliant woman who is funny as all hell and has a potty mouth that rivals mine. She blogs mostly about parenting but she's also a recovering alcoholic so, from time to time, she blogs about that too.<br />
<br />
This is one of those times.<br />
<br />
This is one of those posts.<br />
<br />
And it's fucking brilliant.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.renegademothering.com/2014/02/07/we-dont-start-with-a-needle-in-our-arm/">http://www.renegademothering.com/2014/02/07/we-dont-start-with-a-needle-in-our-arm/</a><br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-55113187977733027362014-02-05T14:15:00.000-05:002014-02-05T14:15:37.943-05:00The More Things Change...The More They Stay the SameI get emails all the time for Living Social and Groupons. If you're not familiar with these companies, they exist as a marketing tool to promote businesses. Basically you sign up for a specific region of the country and then periodically (i.e.several times a day) you receive emails with coupons and/or special deals on goods and services. Most of it's crap but occasionally I happen on a good deal. Once I got all of our carpets cleaned for $99. I also got the dogs bathed and their nails clipped for like $40. I've also gotten massages and other spa services at a fraction of the price.<br />
<br />
But, like I said, 90% of the time it's crap. I scroll through, looking for a good deal and then I move on.<br />
<br />
But today I saw something that made me pause. And caused me to think. And then caused me to LOL.<br />
<br />
I saw this...<br />
<br />
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Now this is not the first time I've seen a "go cup" like this. But it is the first time that I thought, and I shit you not...<br />
<br />
"Wow...there's a lot of wasted space in that glass. You should just take out the stem and fill that sucker up!"<br />
<br />
I guess some things never change. <br />
<br />
At least I'm consistent.<br />
<br />
Namaste<br />
SoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-8280046953105783282014-02-04T09:28:00.000-05:002014-02-04T09:28:51.069-05:00Happy Birthday Facebook!Facebook is 10 years old today. Wow. It's seems like there has always been a Facebook and yet it's a mere 10 years old. On the other hand, those 10 years have flown by and it's hard to believe that FB has been around that long.<br />
<br />
Quite a paradox.<br />
<br />
I love Facebook and social media in general. I love that I can stay in touch and find people who would have otherwise drifted out of my life. I love that my family posts pictures from far away and I can share in things. I love that I can offer love, support and kindness to people who need it and never have to dial their number (I hate talking on the phone). I love that the older it gets, the more social media touches lives in positive ways. I love that I can make new "Facebook friends" and it feels like we're besties even though, in some cases, we've never met face to face.<br />
<br />
I also love that it did not exist in the 80's...just sayin'.<br />
<br />
My kids tell me that Facebook is now for "old" people (translation...anyone over the age of 30) and that they've moved on to Instagram, Vine, Tinder and whatever else is floating around out there. What. Ever. Love it or hate it, Facebook turns 10 big ones today.<br />
<br />
Which of course got me thinking.<br />
<br />
Where was I 10 years ago?<br />
<br />
We were living on the Eastern Shore of Maryland in what I can only describe as my dream home. Small town, 30 minutes from the ocean, unbelievable house with an even more unbelievable kitchen, wonderful family...It was a dream come true.<br />
<br />
My drinking was escalating at the time but was no where near where it would be by 2010. That said, I was dealing with a lot in those years. The hubs had emergency bypass surgery. Matt was hospitalized for a very severe case of strep. My mother was slowly dying and trying to take me with her.<br />
<br />
But in spite of all of that, life was really, really good. The hubs was working at a job he loved. The boys were young and involved in activities that kept me busy. I discovered Little League Baseball which I grew to love with a passion. I made some life long friends. I loved our house and our neighborhood and we entertained a lot. I was in graduate school (again). I knew and loved every inch of that little town.<br />
<br />
I've often wondered why God took us <em>to</em> that life in 2004 only to help me make decisions that would move us <em>away</em> from it only three years later. I guess He just wanted us there. And now He wants us here. I think He wanted us here for the schools and the opportunities my boys would never have had in our small town. He wanted us here so that I could change jobs and find this one that I love. He wanted us here...well...just because He said so!<br />
<br />
I mean, who else takes a job that has her company spending 30 grand to move her and her family 400 miles south only to get laid off 18 months later? This girl! <br />
<br />
AND He locked us in here because we bought our house at the height of the real estate market only to see prices plummet within six months of moving in...can you say upside down? I think that you can.<br />
<br />
Sooooo...no matter how homesick I was (am?) in those first couple of years, He made sure we weren't going <em>anywhere</em>.<br />
<br />
And since my life here is so amazing, I guess He knew what He was doing. (Duh!)<br />
<br />
I still miss that house though. Just sayin'.<br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-71346025020653041092014-02-03T12:08:00.001-05:002014-02-03T13:36:27.426-05:00A ConfessionI have to confess to being triggered yesterday! Of all days! Superbowl Sunday hasn't been a drinking day for me in over 20 years. Sure, in my last couple of drinking years I drank on Superbowl Sunday but hell, I drank EVERY damn DAY then so it was nothing new or special. Other than that, Superbowl Sunday (even when the Redskins were playing...oh...wait...that's been over 20 years too) hasn't been a real party hardy day for me in a very long time.<br />
<br />
<em>But</em> "back in the day" we used to party very hard on this football day of days. In the beginning we either had a party or went to someone's house where we all sat around and whooped and hollered at the game, laughed at the commercials and drank way too damn much and cried when Whitney Houston sang the Star Spangled Banner.<br />
<br />
In later years, we started a HUGE football pool that was $1000 per square. At first we just paid out the entire lump sum to the winner. Then we decided to split it up by quarter and take some of the cash to throw at ginormous Superbowl party at a local restaurant for anyone who was in the pool. Since a lot of people bought squares together, there was usually a pretty big crowd. Not gonna lie...it definitely made some memories. As part of the founding group, the hubs and I would get there early with some of our other friends and start the festivities (translation...start drinking before everyone else got there). Then we would eat and drink and watch the game on a huge screen TV (WAY back before everyone had one).<br />
<br />
In a word...it was fun.<br />
<br />
But that was a long fucking time ago and I was sick of it 20 years ago! The hubs and I had kids and after that, we needed to be home on Sunday's to get ready for the next week...Superbowl not withstanding. In fact, I remember one Superbowl Sunday we spent in the emergency room with a 2 year old Brian who had gotten dehydrated from a stomach virus (thank God I wasn't drinking at home back then). That was one of the time's I told the doctor he didn't know shit from shineola and followed my own gut instinct...I was right.<br />
<br />
But I digress...<br />
<br />
So if I was all past the drinking and carousing of Superbowl Sunday, why in the name of fuck's sake was I consistently thinking about those parties and what a cold glass of White Zinfindel would taste like? White Zin? Really? I haven't like pink wine since about 1990!<br />
<br />
Hey Sherry...they 80's called, they want their wine back.<br />
<br />
ANYWAY...of course I swatted those thoughts away with a smirk, a WTF and a shake of the head. After all I'm used to them and they don't bother me any more, but whenever they come around I'm left thinking what the hell caused them?<br />
<br />
Was I tired? No. In fact I was energized from a beautiful day.<br />
Was I depressed? Nope...I'm medicated for that.<br />
Was I hungry? Hardly. It was Superbowl Sunday yo.<br />
Was I angry? Only at the Broncos...but that doesn't really count since they aren't the Redskins.<br />
Was I lonely? Nope...even Matt was home for dinner.<br />
<br />
Oh well. I'll just chalk it up to "one of those things". Like a snap that flies over the head of the quarterback and shifts the mojo of a game in the <em>first three minutes</em>. <br />
<br />
You know...one of <em>those</em> things.<br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-54008575780738651132014-01-31T09:59:00.000-05:002014-01-31T10:00:06.513-05:00It's Friday!<strong>Early Drinking Days:</strong><br />
It's Friday!!!! What's on tap this weekend? Happy Hour in Annapolis followed by drinks and dinner somewhere. Saturday is a party with friends. How many bottles of wine should I bring? I wonder if they'll have enough. Maybe I should pick up a couple more just in case. I can always save them for another time if no one drinks them. I need to be sure there's enough. Sunday is a champagne brunch followed by a get together at a bar to watch sports. I really hate Sundays. Everyone always wants to leave early because of work the next day but I'm not done! I just want to keep drinking and partying! I don't want to go home.<br />
<br />
<strong>Middle Drinking Days:</strong><br />
Oh my God I'm so glad it's FRIDAY!!! That means that tomorrow is date night! I hope my mom doesn't mind watching the kids. I hope the kids don't mind us going out. Where should we go? I don't want to go to that little restaurant on the corner...they don't pour enough wine in their glasses. Why is everyone always suggesting I buy a bottle instead of by the glass? If I buy a bottle I'll look like an alcoholic! I don't want everyone thinking I'm an alcoholic. I have to be careful how much I drink though - I have to be okay for the kids in the morning. The hubs will want to leave early but we can't go home until the kids are in bed...I don't want them to see me after I've been drinking. That's okay, I never want to leave when he does anyway. I love our intimate conversations. It seems like he doesn't really get going until he's had a couple so getting him out and away from home is important. It's important to our marriage. We need this time to connect. Alcohol helps that happen.<br />
<br />
<strong>Late (Alcoholic) Drinking Days:</strong><br />
It's Friday but the hubs doesn't seem to want to do date night anymore...he says it's too expensive. I'm sorry I ever turned the finance stuff over to him. He's always complaining about how much I'm spending on wine. So what! I deserve it! I work hard for this family so I should be allowed this ONE vice without being made to feel guilty about the money. Then again...the hubs always says that no one can make you feel guilty...if you're guilty then you feel guilty. What. Ever. Staying home is probably better anyway...we don't seem to really talk anymore anyway. It's like he's always in a rush to get home. I feel like I have to rush my wine in order to meet his timetable. It's hard to get enough...that's why I always need to stop by the store on the way home and pick up a bottle or two. Doesn't he know that I'm stressed and I need some downtime? Doesn't he realize that I need wine to help me <em>relax?</em> Well, at least I can drink in peace at home. I need time to myself. The good thing about Friday is that it signals the two days of the week that I can drink really late and not have to worry about getting up in the morning. Of course I don't want the boys to see me really drunk so I'll have to try and keep it together. I wonder if I have enough wine for the weekend. If I buy six bottles at the grocery store I'll get a 10% discount and if I buy the 8.99 bottles, the hubs can't complain. PLUS that's three bottles for Friday and three for Saturday. That should be plenty. Of course, if I keep it to two then I'll have some for Sunday. God I hate myself. I'm going to have to get this under control. I can't drink like this anymore. I've put on so much weight. I hate the look in my family's eyes when I put the wine bottles on the counter or in the trash. But I'll worry about that on Monday. Monday I'll think about quitting. For now it's Friday and as soon as I get off work I'll have my blessed glass of wine. Maybe just one this time? We'll see.<br />
<br />
<strong>Early Sobriety Days:</strong><br />
It's Friday. Oh my God how am I going to get through the weekend without my wine. This is so hard. I wonder if it's worth it. I mean...I'm not really an alcoholic am I? It's not like I can't quit. Look at how well I've done so far. It's been XX days and I haven't touched a drop. I just wish the weekend weren't so hard...especially Friday. There's something about Friday that just makes this whole sobriety thing hard. But I've come so far. I'm doing so well. My family is so proud of me. They are so encouraging. I can't let them down. Okay...I'm not going to drink today. I'll reevaluate tomorrow but tonight I'm just going to go home, meditate and practice yoga. Then I'll settle in with the hubs. In fact, let me call him and get him to pick me up some chocolate. Those little Hershey's block things will be good...the one's with almonds and toffee. Okay...I'm better. I can do this. I can do anything.<br />
<br />
<strong>Present Day:</strong><br />
I am so freaking glad it's Friday. And I have nothing planned with weekend except to be with my family. I think I'll cook for them. I have some new Paleo recipes I want to try. In fact, it's Superbowl weekend so I think I'll try my hand at some wings. I wonder if everyone will be around this weekend? They're all going in different directions these days. It's hard to keep track. I miss when they were little. This whole empty nest thing sucks ass. But I'll get through it. Especially now that I'm sober. I can deal. Thank God I'm sober. I am so blessed to be an alcoholic. I am so blessed to no longer have the voices chattering away in my head. I am so blessed to have the quiet. Speaking of quiet, I think I'll try my new meditation bench that Brian made me tonight. It was so sweet of him. I also need to do some yoga. I just feel so centered and whole when I do that. We were supposed to do date night tonight but, oops...I forgot. So we've decided it will be a monthly thing rather than a bi-weekly one. I'm just such a homebody now. There's such peace and contentment in my head and in my home...I don't need to be anywhere else. I love Friday.<br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-4355560790906346642014-01-28T13:42:00.001-05:002014-01-28T13:43:35.824-05:00Bread, Milk, Toilet Paper and....WINE!It's going to snow here in the southeastern part of the U.S. Maybe 1-3 inches. Maybe ice. If you know anything about this part of the country, you know that the "S" word makes people a little crazy. It snows so infrequently here that we don't have the equipment or people-power to manage it. Plus we have an abundance of transplants here so you've got wizened Chicago drivers on the roads with paranoid Floridians. <br />
<br />
It's not pretty.<br />
<br />
Most of the schools in the area are closing early today and will likely be closed tomorrow. For 1-3 inches. Yes...I know. I can see my Canadian friends doing their best WTF chuckle and my northern U.S. comrades shouting, "Rookies!" at their screens. But when your child has been trapped on a school bus for 6 hours in a traffic jam and you're home worried sick. Or when YOU'VE been stuck in a traffic jam caused by that person from Chicago trying to pass the Floridian and neither one can navigate the ice that has formed because we didn't have enough salt and chemicals to treat the road...well...then I'm GLAD they are closing schools.<br />
<br />
But even more incredible than the schools closing at the mere whisper of snow, is what happens at the GROCERY STORE. Even now I'm guessing that there isn't a loaf of bread, a square of toilet paper or a gallon of milk in any store within a 50 mile radius of Charlotte. People are flocking to the store to "stock up" just in case they're SNOWED IN. <br />
<br />
Because that happens <em>so often</em> in this part of the U.S.<br />
<br />
Um...not.<br />
<br />
However, you really get a glimpse of what people value when you sit and watch a few hundred of them go through a check out line. New moms and dads have cleaned out the diaper and formula aisles. Teens and college kids have cleaned out the cookies and chips. Milk and bread have moved from the stores to the pantries of families everywhere. And on the way out they all grab some cocoa and marshmallows because what's a snow day without cocoa and marshmallows?<br />
<br />
Four years ago, if you had seen <em>me</em> in that checkout line, you would not have seen any of the above (okay...maybe the cocoa and marshmallows) because I'm from a little further north and I know that the likelihood of getting SNOWED IN falls squarely in the "no fucking way" category. But...you would have seen several bottles of Chardonnay (or maybe a box...or both) on my belt.<br />
<br />
Some things are best not left to chance.<br />
<br />
I would PANIC if I thought I didn't have enough wine. I'm talking hyperventilating, racing heart panic. Of course I would never admit to the panic. I would call the hubs and toss a comment like, "Hi honey. On the way home could you pick up some popcorn and hot cocoa so the kids have it for their snow day. Oh...and grab a couple of bottles of wine too would ya?"<br />
<br />
Smoooooth.<br />
<br />
Since I worked from home back then, I got to enjoy a day where the kids ran in and out of the house precisely 3,465 times, got dressed and undressed a mere 845 times, drank all the cocoa, played every board game we had and watched every cartoon Looney Toons ever made. The sad thing was that in the back of my mind I would be thinking and waiting and waiting and thinking about what time would be a good time to crack that first bottle. Never fully present. <br />
<br />
Sigh.<br />
<br />
But that was then and this is now so I need to call the hubs and makes sure he gets the sugar free cocoa and the mini marshmallows and the ingredients for my chicken soup.<br />
<br />
Cause what's a snow day without chicken soup?<br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-30220599719913817492014-01-27T12:17:00.000-05:002014-01-27T12:17:50.727-05:00Sometimes All I've Got Left to Give Is Love...I have a niece (I've written about her before) who has been a part of my heart since the day she was born a little over 31 years ago. She was born to my addicted sister when she was 17 which means I was a mere 21. For the last 31 years I have loved that child with every fiber of my being and given her all that I could to make her life as normal as possible.<br />
<br />
While she was growing up, we had her every weekend and most of the summer. We funded and cheered her ice skating "career". We were Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny. We made sure she had clothes and books for school. But, most important of all, we gave her a safe place to land. We gave her "home".<br />
<br />
Or so I thought...<br />
<br />
You see, my niece has the "crazy gene", as my nephew calls it. She has the personality traits that make her behave like my mother and sister. Everything must always be about her. She's a compulsive liar. When she talks about herself she always has the best job, is the most important person in her neighborhood, is a better, mother, churchgoer, worker, student than anyone else. Everything in her life must involve drama or it doesn't hold value for her. She's sneaky and manipulative and will stop at nothing to get what she wants.<br />
<br />
The hubs has been telling me about her since she was five years old but I, like most mothers, would hear none of it. I just kept trying to be a better mother to her hoping that love would win out over genetics.<br />
<br />
I was wrong.<br />
<br />
The older she gets and the older <em>I</em> get, I realize that I love the way I love. I love unconditionally. I don't always love equally (I try) but I love fully and with my entire being. I don't define my love with material things but I try to fullfill wishes and <em>indulge</em> rather than <em>spoil</em>. I respect boundaries but will step in if asked. I listen with my heart and my head and, if asked, will give advice (and sometimes when I'm not asked...d'oh!) No matter what, I am always ready with a warm hug and a kind word. However, if your ass needs kicking then I'll do that too. I'm the mom...it's what I do.<br />
<br />
Sadly, it's never enough for my niece. No matter what I do, she needs more and even that is not enough. I recently told her that I was not able to love her any other way. She's convinced that I love "my" kids, or my stepdaughter or my nephew more than I love her. I don't do enough, call enough, send enough money, give enough presents, etc., etc., etc.<br />
<br />
All I've got left to give now is love. My love, my way. If that's not enough for her, then so be it. I'm out of options. Life is short and quite frankly, I'm tired.<br />
<br />
So I love her for who she is and I no longer take responsibility for her happiness. I used to obesses that she was angry with me or upset or bad talking me but now? Not so much. I am who I am and she is who she is and it's not my fault. I didn't cause it. I can't control it. And it's taken 31 years but I finally know I can cure it.<br />
<br />
But I can love it.<br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-68864165223486841142014-01-22T09:52:00.002-05:002014-01-22T09:53:43.109-05:00Getting PissedI posted yesterday about being sick but then took it down. No one needs to know THAT much about anyone else. Sorry to those of you unfortunate to read it. <br />
<br />
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br />
<br />
Things went very well Friday night. The hubs seemed to have a good time. I eat in places like that all the time for work but he never does so I think it was a really nice change for him. For me...meh. For one thing, I ate too damn much (the dessert was good but definitely overkill), for another...the pangs are still there.<br />
<br />
A little clarification here...the pangs are so tiny that they would not be seen by even the Hubble telescope but I still noticed them and they still <em>pissed me off</em>. And made me sad. But mostly pissed. At me. At genetics. At the alcohol industry. At anything. Just pissed.<br />
<br />
But that's okay. Being a little pissed off from time to time is good for the soul. It gets the heart pumping, the emotions rolling and the hormones (what few I have left) churning. It reminds me that there are things <em>worth</em> getting pissed off about. Like messing with my family, or injustice, or bullies, or screwing around with my sobriety. Those are the things that I allow to mess with my zen and make me angry. In fact, I'm pretty sure in the "How to Behave Like a Good Human" book (publisher...God) it states that you <em>should</em> get pissed off about shit like that. Because getting pissed inspires you to take action, to do something about that which is pissing you off. Am I right? Hell yeah! Oh..sorry...got a little carried away there for a sec. Carry on.<br />
<br />
Of course, it's only good as long as you don't dwell on it too long...as long as you recognize it, review it, feel it, take action if necessary AND THEN LET IT GO.<br />
<br />
So I took action. I shook my head, smiled at my adoring husband <em>and ordered dessert</em>. Because there is no greater weapon against being pissed off at alcoholism for me than a good dessert. See, when I drank I <em>never</em> ordered dessert. And, even though it was overkill...I ate it. Then I smiled inwardly because I know I am one badass motherfucking sober ninja lady and wine's got nothin' on me. I got skills and I know how to use them.<br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-59144648580454755592014-01-17T16:30:00.000-05:002014-01-17T16:30:28.691-05:00Date NightI've written about this many times before, but date night for the hubs and I always revolved around alcohol...well...at least for me it did. <br />
<br />
Back in the 80's we partied pretty hardy almost every night. If we weren't with a group of friends at a happy hour that stretched long into the night, we were at a restaurant having a 4-hour dinner where I talked and he listened. We drank a lot back then and somehow lived to tell the tale (in spite of my alcoholism and the hubs' bypass surgery a few years ago). <br />
<br />
After the kids were born we did date night once a month and then, after they got older, once a week. I told myself it was "our" time together which it was, but it was also my time with the wine since I didn't drink at home back then. We tried to do dinner but later just ended up hanging out a bars where we could grab a bite and talk until it was time to go home. I still love a good bar - I don't go into them much - but I just love the look and feel of them.<br />
<br />
The hubs quit drinking long before I did. He would take me out on date night but only have one, maybe two V.O.'s and Coke and those he ordered in a tall glass so he got more soda with each shot of booze. I didn't see then that he was just indulging my need to get shit faced and spill my guts. Or just get shit faced because looking back I realize that it was way more about the wine then it was about the conversation. I just wanted to drink and going out made it seem okay.<br />
<br />
Since I quit drinking, I've tried to reestablish date night. We've tried dinner, movies, even pottery painting. Nothing really worked. Nothing felt as good as just sitting home together watching television. (I KNOW RIGHT!) I remember the first time we went out to dinner after I really got sober. There are no words to express how uncomfortable I was. Between the calories, the money we were spending and the fact that there was only diet coke in my glass, I couldn't wait to get the hell out of there and back to the safety of my home.<br />
<br />
Well boys and girls, we're giving it another shot. I've come up with a plan to jump start this whole date night thing and see where it goes. Every two weeks, payday weeks to be specific, we're going out to dinner. We're going as soon as I leave work because if I go home first...I'll never leave. We're going to try new restaurants (that I get to pick...yay) and see how it feels. Try it on for size.<br />
<br />
If it feels forced or uncomfortable then we won't do it anymore. If it feels fun and exciting then we'll keep going. If we end up staring across the table at each other with nothing to say then I'm going to have to revisit the entire concept of date night, my marriage and my reason for existence on the planet.<br />
<br />
Just kidding...about the last part anyway.<br />
<br />
Because here is what sobriety and age have taught me. I do not have to do anything I don't want to do. I don't have to pretend that I like something simply because some pencil-necked, know-it-all that needs a biscuit says I should like it. I don't have to feel like a loser because I like sitting home at night, in my big green chair and watching television with the man who has put up with my shit for 30 years just because some lame FaceBook or Twitter article says I should. And I don't have to pretend to be an extrovert and the life of the party just because society says that's what is acceptable. <br />
<br />
Society can eat me.<br />
<br />
And what's more, I don't have to make excuses for not doing any of that shit. "We don't really have the money," or "I'm so tired after work," or "We're so busy on the weekends." What a load of bullshit.<br />
<br />
How's this...<br />
<br />
Date night is spending time with the man I love doing whatever the hell it is we want to do. All that matters is that at least one of us has a good time (because marriage is a compromise) and I don't drink.<br />
<br />
That's it! Simple stupid. Now if you'll excuse me, my ride is here.<br />
<br />
Have a great weekend everyone!<br />
<br />
Namaste SoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-78703890077548312372014-01-15T16:53:00.000-05:002014-01-15T16:53:32.641-05:00Refuge From the StormLast night one of my son's woke me at 2:30 to tell me that the young girl up the street (17) was spending the night because her mother had thrown her out of the house. Her mother drinks. The child has no idea how to cope. Her mother is violent. Child Protective Services has been called and the mother has been warned. Apparently it doesn't matter. She stayed in my other son's room for the night.<br />
<br />
But on the way to work this morning I told the hubs that I didn't want him alone in the house with her. I've told my boys that as well. The mother is crazy and I wouldn't put it past her to accuse my men of something because she's angry that we took in her daughter <em>at 2:30 in the freaking morning!</em><br />
<br />
Because clearly it makes perfect sense to put a child out on the street at 2:30 in the morning in the middle of winter. And believe me, no matter how old they think they are, at 17 they are still children.<br />
<br />
Clearly it makes sense to be drunk at 2:30 in the morning and arguing with your 17 year old who should be in bed because she has school the next day. <br />
<br />
I'm no genius but having been on that side of the wine bottle many times, never violent but also never in my right mind, and the fact that the young girl showed up at our door in tears and stone cold sober...well, let's just say I had no problem taking her in at that hour.<br />
<br />
Here's what is amazing to me. No one was out looking for her. At least no one knocked on my door. Let me assure you, no matter how drunk I was, if I thought my child was out there in the cold night somewhere I'd not only be knocking <em>on</em> doors, I'd be knocking them <em>down</em>. And then I'd call the cops and get <em>them</em> to knock down some doors.<br />
<br />
I don't know. Maybe she texted her mom and told her she was safe. Maybe her mom passed out. Maybe her step dad miraculously grew a pair and made the mom go to bed and then texted the girl to check on her. Doubtful...but maybe.<br />
<br />
In any event, I hope that things have been worked out but if they haven't, she's welcome to stay as long as she needs. Because I can't fix her fucked up family, but I can offer refuge from the storm, a hug to make her feel welcome and an ear to listen if she wants to talk.<br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-73954209802883231292014-01-14T17:24:00.000-05:002014-01-14T17:24:57.374-05:00I WriteOnce again I am unable to comment on Blogger posts from my work computer. Last week I could...this week I can't. I wish the IT department would make up it's mind! So again, if I don't comment it's not because I didn't want to...it's because I work for the Internet police!!! ;-)<br />
<br />
It's particularly frustrating because I've been clicking my way through some new and interesting blogs of late. BTW, if you leave me a comment and you have a blog, I always click on your name, find your blog, read it (maybe comment IF I CAN) and put it into my reader so I can "read you" on a regular basis. That's the way I've found many of my friends. That and going to other blogs and clicking on their blog roll to see what I can find interesting. Lots of good stuff my friends...lots.<br />
<br />
I still scratch my head and wonder about which blogs get loads of comments and which don't. I've never been one to get a lot of comments and I get roughly 100 hits a day or so on my blog. And that's okay...I'm not out here to count stats and worry about who's commenting - when I first started I did...it was exhausting! I'm out here to keep myself sane and sober and if anyone reads and wants to comment...BONUS!!! I've also made some lifelong friends out here folks (DOUBLE BONUS TIMES INFINITY) and I wouldn't trade them for a million hits and 100K comments.<br />
<br />
But it still leaves me scratching my head sometimes. Then I get all, "What's wrong with me?" and "What am I doing wrong?" And then I shake my head and kick my own ego to the curb and refer back to the paragraph I just wrote. Sheesh!<br />
<br />
Then I wonder if it's time to throw in the towel. Many of the blogs I started out reading no longer post (still missing you Lou). Some moved on with their lives. Some were unable to keep blogging for fear of being found out or "outing" family and friends. Some just ran out of stuff to say. So they signed off, some for good, some to start other blogs. If I have the address I follow the new ones. If not, I just miss them.<br />
<br />
And I've thought of all of that. Am I outing family and friends (many of whom read this here blog thing I do)? Have I moved past this whole sobriety thing? (BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA...oh sorry...Uh...no.) Have I said all I have to say? Well, since I've tried to quit twice (or is it three times) and each time feel compelled to write...I guess the answer to that is no.<br />
<br />
I write because it helps to get the crap out of my head and on to the page. My head, like that of many alcoholics, is a very dangerous neighborhood. There is stuff flying around in there that would make me insane (or drink) if I didn't remove it. Since I don't have a pensieve and a wand like Dumbledore, I have to rely on this blog to get it out of my head and onto the page where I can see it, review it, and hit delete if necessary. <br />
<br />
I write because I've always wanted to be a writer but I lack one critical component...an imagination and talent. I took a creative writing class once in college and it was...well it wasn't good. I recently found some of my old writing...I cringe thinking about it even now. But on the blog I don't have to worry about my lack of imagination...I don't have to make shit up. It's all for reals yo! (That's for you Annette.)<br />
<br />
I write because it makes me happy. Since I am a firm believer in protecting the happy, I will continue to write.<br />
<br />
Did I mention I tend to ramble...<br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-78295397133787136982014-01-13T17:19:00.000-05:002014-01-13T17:19:55.659-05:00THIS is why I quit drinking...So we all know I've got four years of sobriety under my belt. Four years ago my kids were 38, 27, 19, 16 and 14 (x's 2). Essentially, I still had a full house. The first three were gone but I still had three, very needy and growing boys at home. They still needed me for a roof, sustanance, guidance, hugs, kisses, some entertainment and a good laugh from time to time.<br />
<br />
But I knew...<br />
<br />
I knew the day was coming when they'd be gone and I'd be left staring at their empty bedrooms wondering where the time went and drinking myself into a coma. I could see it!<br />
<br />
I was right.<br />
<br />
Thank GOD I listened to my gut (and my husband).<br />
<br />
We took my youngest (by 21 minutes his brother will tell you proudly) to school this weekend. He's living on campus. Now...it's only 20 minutes up the road and I expect to see him frequently (at least to do his laundry) so it's not like he's 3000 miles away (how DO parents do that?) but this one is hard because I know <em>he's</em> the one that will never really be "back". He'll come home over break and to get a hot meal, but he's chomping at the bit to get on with his life. He wants to spread his wings. <br />
<br />
His father and I were discussing this the other day on the way to work. He and I both were out of the house at his age. Married (not to each other - when the hubs was 18, I was in kindergarten...ewwwwww) and running our own lives. I left home and got married to get the hell away from the dysfunction that was my home. He left because that's what you did in 1966. You got a job, got married and, for him, went to Vietnam. Regardless of why, we were ready.<br />
<br />
When I compare how I felt then to my own kids and how they must be feeling, I shudder. Because time has taught me that I wasn't ready, that the world was big and ugly and was going to hurt me. That actually, I didn't <em>know shit</em> even though I thought I <em>was the shit</em>. But it was also exciting and new and...well...fun.<br />
<br />
They're leaving...and they are the last. But's that is what they are supposed to do...right? I've always said that my job as their parent was not to be their friend but to raise good people who would be assets to the world. People of integrity with a loving heart who cultivate goodness and light.<br />
<br />
I did my job. They are great humans. In fact, they're awesome. For now. I don't know what will happen out there and what's more I CAN'T CONTROL IT. My job as I knew it is over. I have children with the addictive gene that I'm turning out into the world and just praying. <br />
<br />
I've being reassigned. My job now is only to support, guide and love them...more and more, only when asked. They will, one day in the future (way, way future I hope) have families of their own that will be their first priority. That's how it should be. They need to complete the cycle.<br />
<br />
Have I mentioned that I don't like change? That I hate not knowing what I'm doing? This job is new and unfamiliar and it makes me nostalgic for a different time. And. It. Sucks. Ass. Because I'm scared. Scared = fear. Fear = alcoholic out of control. <br />
<br />
No thanks.<br />
<br />
I am SO glad that I don't drink any longer. This could have been VERY ugly indeed.<br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-43141651977288356282014-01-10T12:26:00.002-05:002014-01-10T12:26:39.628-05:00Job HuntingNo...not me. I'm actually very happy with my job right now. It's the hubs. He's been retired since we moved to this area and has been the best stay at home dad EVER. He drives my sight impaired where ever he needs to go and just generally takes care of the house. I haven't cleaned a toilet in five years. Not to mention having dinner ready every night and not having to do the dishes (I offer...he says no). Oh and the laundry? Done.<br />
<br />
But we knew that eventually he'd have to get a job because we need to pay off debt that we incurred while I was out of work. I'm glad we had the availability when we did, but now it has to go. I weighs on my mind like a 2,000 lb elephant and while I love elephants, I don't want the sucker sitting on my head. Not to mention the fact that the interest rates are of the 2007 variety vs the 2013 variety which just plain pisses me off. I hate paying other people to use their money.<br />
<br />
For the past two years, my man has applied to every job on the planet. He's on CareerBuilder, Monster, Indeed, Snag-a-job, and any other job site you can imagine. The problem is, as we see it, he's too old and too overqualified. I'm sure people are looking at his "professional" resume and thinking, "He'll never be happy here" or "He's too old. He won't be interested in long term potential."<br />
<br />
These people and companies are missing out on the find of the century. The hubs will do ANYTHING. Nothing is beneath him. And he can sell ANYTHING. Besides, we just need a little extra income for awhile (because after the debt is gone, I want my 1950's style wife back - he's the best). Plus, he needs to get the hell off FaceBook and FoxNews and talk to other adults for awhile. I swear the way he rants and raves about politics, I'm expecting the Secret Service or FBI to bash down our door any day and take him away in cuffs!<br />
<br />
But...to date there have been no takers. <br />
<br />
I know it's a tough job market. Until I got laid off I had never had to interview for a job...ever. All my jobs were either as a result of someone reaching out to me or me getting promoted. I had to learn the skill of the interview from scratch and position myself in the job market so that employers would even LOOK at my resume, much less schedule an interview. There are so many applicants for so few jobs out there that getting noticed is the name of the game.<br />
<br />
A conversation with someone else in the job market got me thinking yesterday. A good way to get your resume back to the top of the pile is to take it off the internet, tweak it a little, and then upload it again. That way you look like a new applicant and the recruiters start calling again. <br />
<br />
So today that's what I did. Here's how I tweaked it for him...<br />
<br />
Old resume lead-in:<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN; mso-font-kerning: 1.5pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Self-motivated, results driven, problem solver who possesses excellent sales, marketing, negotiating and management skills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Extremely knowledgeable sales professional with extensive experience in anticipating, uncovering and capitalizing on client needs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Proven ability to significantly increase company revenue by quickly developing positive client rapport, establishing solid business relationships and fully developing new and existing accounts.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
New resume lead-in:<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN; mso-font-kerning: 1.5pt;">Retired (since 2008) salesman/banker/business owner who is just trying to earn some extra income and keep busy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I come armed with a deep sales and business background to help your company reach its objectives; a strong work ethic; no lofty goals about where I want to be in 10 years; and completely negotiable salary expectations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
We've tried everything else...maybe a little honesty will be the ticket.<br />
<br />
Namaste<br />
<br />
<br />
SoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-86634758605411175672014-01-09T08:48:00.000-05:002014-01-09T08:49:34.905-05:00Celebration - Part II<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: x-small;">Celebrate what you want to see more of.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: x-small;">~Thomas J. Peters</span></div>
<br />
<br />
No quote was ever truer to my old life. I had long since stop celebrating life and life's events and had moved onto just celebrating wine. Not celebrating <em>with</em> wine. Just celebrating wine. The fact that I could drink with abandon and no one could tell me what to do. I was a grown ass woman! If I wanted to <strike>kill myself</strike> drink, I could! Leave me alone. I know what I'm doing! All I want is MORE! Why can't anyone understand that?<br />
<br />
But the quote is also true now and will be forever because I want to celebrate more of what I have <em>now</em>. I want to celebrate the peace that comes with sobriety. It doesn't come right away. In the beginning that damned recording just kept playing over and over and over in my head and I had nothing to numb it. It was more exhausting than anything I had every encountered while drinking.<br />
<br />
But eventually it quieted. And I found peace.<br />
<br />
And so I want to celebrate that peace. How do I celebrate it? Well thank you for asking.<br />
<br />
I celebrate by thanking God, several times a day for all He has given and all He has helped me build. We talk a lot but I make a special effort every morning to really pray as well. That way if I get too busy to stop and say "thank you" or "guess what" or "damn God, that was crazy" during the day, I'm covered.<br />
<br />
I celebrate by trying to be kind. I love that word. I think it's my favorite word. You can be angry or frustrated or upset and still be kind. In fact, I've seen seemingly <em>happy</em> people be very <em>un</em>kind (I don't think they were really that happy to tell you the truth) from time to time. As I said in a former post, it's never okay to be unkind and guess what? It doesn't cost a dime. Plus it fills up your karma account which is some good stuff.<br />
<br />
I celebrate by looking at the world through rose colored glasses. I've been called (among other things) a silly optimist, a hopeless romantic, Susie Sunshine, and my personal favorite, "For Christ's sake Sherry would you stop putting a positive spin on EVERYTHING?" But that's just how I see the world. I don't think it will all work out, I <em>know</em> it will. It may not be the way I thought it would be, but it still works out. And so I celebrate that by always trying to see good and light and love in everything.<br />
<br />
I celebrate by loving. Loving not only people and pets and housing and jobs and all the other normal everyday things, but loving things that you might not think about. Like the maintenance guy in your building that has some challenges but overall has a pure heart. Or the homeless guy begging for money on the side of the road who may or may not be scamming me but who gives a fuck. It's cold and he needs money. I'm warm and I have some (not much...but some). No brainer for me. Or the salesclerk who is being rude. Who knows why she's being rude but I'm certainly not going to add to her bad day. I'm going to approach her from a position of love...and hope for the best. Or the old pond along my walking route that looks just <em>awful</em> but is home to some of nature's more beautiful creatures. Pretty little frogs and graceful cranes and, my personal favorite, Mallard ducks. Or yoga (I'm sticking to my resolution!). Or a big green chair by the fire that welcomes me home in the evening and in which I firmly plant my ample behind.<br />
<br />
I celebrate by staying true to my sobriety and not letting myself down by drinking. I know I'm only one bad judgement call from relapse, we all are, but doing so would be to violate everything I've come to love about sobriety. It's just not worth losing what I've gained. I pray I never forget that. <br />
<br />
I celebrate by writing this blog everyday and communicating with "my people" (you guys are "my people"...I love having "people"...I feel like Beyonce). People who have been touched by addiction in one way or another. Some are recovering, some are just sober, some are still struggling and some are dealing with family members who are caught up in this web of ugliness and pain. All are precious and giving and loving and without this blog, I don't think I'd still be sober. I know I never would have moved into recovery*.<br />
<br />
And yes, sometimes I just celebrate with cake! Because it's good and life is too short to pass up the opportunity to eat cake.<br />
<br />
In moderation of course. {wink}<br />
<br />
Namaste<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>*I talk alot about being sober vs. being in recovery. For me this marks the time I moved from just sober to the place where I started dealing with all the ugly crap that I had shoved down for 30 something years. It's when I started to heal the broken little girl and started the journey to liking - and maybe one day loving - myself. It's different things for different people. This is what it is for me.</em></span>SoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-45887239865227079012014-01-08T09:59:00.001-05:002014-01-08T10:03:45.855-05:00Celebration - Part IThank you to everyone for your responses to my last two posts. The fact is that I would write this blog even if no one read it. It's way cheaper than therapy and <em>it works</em>. But the fact that I know you guys are out there, cheering me on, supporting me when I'm low and laughing at my stupid jokes has made this blog a part of my life and you all a part of my family.<br />
<br />
And if even <em>one person</em> gets even an ounce of comfort from my words then it's worth every keystroke.<br />
<br />
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br />
<br />
Yesterday got me thinking about the word "celebrate". The meaning of that word has changed so much in my sobriety. Believe it or not fellow alkies, everything is not cause for celebration! I know! I was shocked too.<br />
<br />
See, when I was drinking I was constantly on the lookout for situations that would make me feel normal AND allow me to drink as much as I wanted. The key was to celebrate something so that everyone was drinking and I didn't feel so alone. The words "Let's Celebrate" rolled off my tongue like "What's for dinner?" and "Do you have any cash?" roll of the tongues of my boys. Anything was cause for celebration for me. Anything to keep me from feeling like I was drinking too much.<br />
<br />
Because I knew I was. I just was not ready to admit it.<br />
<br />
This process worked fine, for awhile. I was able to drink only while celebrating and my normal life just kept going. I held down jobs. I parented my children. I loved my spouse. I hid. I lied. <br />
<br />
I drank.<br />
<br />
And somewhere along the way it all went wonky and I found myself celebrating alone more and more. I mean, why go out and pay for wine when I could get much greater quantities much cheaper and stay home? Plus, going out meant I'd have to bring my mental calculator so I could keep track of how many I'd had, how many my nearest competitor had, how much was left and whether or not I was slurring yet.<br />
<br />
Sheesh! Way too much work!<br />
<br />
So I just stayed home and drank by myself. I'd still celebrate the stuff I used to celebrate, (you know, like the laundry being done) but I did it alone so that I wouldn't have to expend so much energy <em>thinking</em> and I could just concentrate on <em>drinking</em>.<br />
<br />
Because drinking "moderately" was <em>hard work</em>. In fact, it's fucking exhausting! Keeping track of all that crap, worrying constantly that I'd be found out, that someone would notice how much I had to drink, that someone would judge. Nope...just too much to do and it ruined my happy time. So I preferred to just sit home alone and drink. Because I deserved it. Because I was <em>celebrating</em>!!!<br />
<br />
And then one day it was not so much fun anymore. In fact it was painful. I was full of shame and remorse and guilt. It was hard to get out of bed every morning and keep that life I loved so much together because I was sick. Not just sick from being hungover, I was used to that. Sick from being in so much pain all the time as a result of the thing that was supposed to <em>numb the pain</em>!<br />
<br />
Now no one was celebrating. Not my family who were concerned but tired of seeing me slurring and incoherent every night. Not my friends who wanted to see me but I'd isolated myself so much I turned down every invitation. Not my colleagues who saw me sick and pale every morning but, since they were the last to know anything, thought I might be ill. Not my wonderful and loving husband who would have done anything for me but was so tired of rehashing the same arguments, night after night, when he should have been sleeping.<br />
<br />
Damn I'm glad that's not me anymore. {shudder} <br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-71214314801735309802014-01-07T16:21:00.000-05:002014-01-07T16:24:36.144-05:00Four YearsYou know how I always say that counting days doesn't really matter anymore, that I'm past that and that's it's no longer about the time sober as it is the recovery going on into that time. <br />
<br />
Well, while the latter is definitely true, the former is bullshit.<br />
<br />
Congratulations to me!<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZ_9NWToCDchOtLKyXWWz-F6HGiV_GajhJUCEc1EabavNEy-PCOBHQEwd5ETm9VHZOz3NS5B4ADWRh4a2UPx__0JyXlWqXqsUNgHN6XwJ-pgsHWZnkVV5onfDB0I-lg3-9ewmgVBrsqZM/s640/blogger-image-1295390463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZ_9NWToCDchOtLKyXWWz-F6HGiV_GajhJUCEc1EabavNEy-PCOBHQEwd5ETm9VHZOz3NS5B4ADWRh4a2UPx__0JyXlWqXqsUNgHN6XwJ-pgsHWZnkVV5onfDB0I-lg3-9ewmgVBrsqZM/s320/blogger-image-1295390463.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I suck at selfies but you get the idea!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Namaste<br />
<br /></div>
SoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-60615727514599796032014-01-06T12:27:00.000-05:002014-01-06T13:58:05.515-05:00January 7, 2010Today marks four years since I stopped by the liquor store during my daily errands (I had been laid off from my job and was living on severance), purchased a ridiculously expensive bottle of Cakebread Chardonnay (plus another cheap bottle), went home and announced to my husband that this would be my last bottle of wine. Once he got his composure back (the Cakebread was <em>expensive</em> and I was spending a lot on wine at the time), he smiled. What I noticed about that smile is that it didn't reach his eyes. He said, "Good for you beautiful. You know I'm here to support you in any way I can." But what I heard in his voice was, "We'll see. I hope it sticks this time."<br />
<br />
I drank those two bottles...slowly for a change...and sat up in my room alternating excitement with panic. "Oh my God...what have I done! How will I ever have any fun if I don't drink? What will we do for date night? How will I entertain?" Finally I just stopped thinking about it (because that's why I drank right?) and went to bed.<br />
<br />
The next morning I got up, with a hangover of course, and proceeded to start my day. I went online and found an online AA meeting and started up chats with several people. I joined two different groups and vowed to stay in touch with them (which I did for about the first six months). I took my Nook and ordered several "drunk" books. I drank orange juice. I talked with the hubs.<br />
<br />
And I waited, terrified, for five o'clock.<br />
<br />
Of course it came and went and the rest is history. The difference in the five o'clock on January 7, 2010 and every other five o'clock in my drinking history was that this time I was <em>determined</em>. I had dug my heels in and decided, stubbornly, that I was going to break the cycle of addiction that had ruined my family for as far back as I've been able to trace. Divorce, dysfunction, poverty, depression, death. It had to stop. I had worked very hard to build a life as close to Norman Rockwell and Currier & Ives as was humanly possible. A life so far removed from anything I'd ever experienced that it was almost unrecognizable to me on some days.<br />
<br />
And I was throwing it all away, <em>one bottle of wine at a time</em>.<br />
<br />
So I quit. I gave myself permission to sleep...<em>a lot</em>. And to eat peanut M&M's. And cry. And throw temper tantrums. And love on my family. And let them love on me. But I never, ever gave myself permission to drink. I <em>thought</em> about it at first...<em>a lot</em>. "I'll just quit until vacation." "I'll quit for a year and then I'll learn to moderate." "Maybe I'll still drink when I travel for work. No one will know." But everytime I thought about it I told myself "tomorrow I'll see how I feel." It worked.<br />
<br />
It also got easier. Day by day, hell sometimes it was minute by minute, it got better. Those first few months were all about just staying away from wine. That's it. Just. Don't. Drink. Dumbass.<br />
<br />
Then it became about, "What the fuck do I do <em>now</em>?" I didn't have one clue about how to be sober. I had to redefine my life in terms of what was real instead of what I had created under a cloud of booze. I had to learn to be honest with myself and face my feelings and deal with life as it comes, warts and all. I didn't worry about having any fun or socializing or even contacting friends. I was a hermit. I stayed home and dealt with me. I contemplated going to the beach for a few days by myself because the ocean is my zen. But I decided against it because, well...because I didn't trust myself yet. I pushed away feelings of guilt about things I wasn't getting done (like finding a job) and just concentrated on being <em>sober</em>.<br />
<br />
Once that first year was done...the year of first Valentine's Day, birthday, summer, fall, holidays, Tuesdays, a full moon, a sunset, (insert lame drinking excuse here), I could breathe a little easier. I'm pretty sure that was when I started to actually enter recovery.<br />
<br />
I've never regretted one single solitary sober moment. Sometimes I miss the hell out of the taste of a really good Chardonnay or a single shot of Jameson's but that's just <em>taste</em>. Because I know it was never about just one for me. It was always about getting wasted. Always about <em>more</em>. Here the thing though...I never left anything at the bottom of a wine bottle that I need to go back and get. There's nothing there for me anymore. Actually, there never was.<br />
<br />
Everything I will ever need is here for me, right now. Sobriety let's me reach out and take it and for that I will always be grateful.<br />
<br />
So if you're out there reading and you're trying to decide (or have decided) that your New Year's resolution will be to give up the booze, then DO IT. Reach out to me via the comments or email and I'll talk you through it. Or reach out to anyone you see on my blogroll to the right and THEY will be there for you (trust me on this people). Or keep reading all the sober blogs you can find and stay sober that way. Or Google AA (<a href="http://www.aa.org/">www.aa.org</a>) and THEY'LL be there for you. <br />
<br />
But, to borrow a phrase from Nike, JUST DO IT. Get your life back. You're worth it. I promise.<br />
<br />
Namaste<br />
<br />
<em>Note: If you find yourself sick after you've tried to quit, throwing up, shaking uncontrollably and you just can't function without some alcohol PLEASE call your doctor or AA and find a detox center. Withdrawing from alcohol can be dangerous and if it's not done correctly it can kill you. Be careful - it's not worth the risk. Contact a doctor or detox center.</em><br />
<br />SoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-14868725104866421282014-01-05T14:33:00.001-05:002014-01-05T14:34:54.921-05:00I'm Okay; You're OkayI knew when the "holiday season" took off that I'd be doing another Whole 30 to jump start 2014. I felt sooooo good at the end of the last one and I've remained cognizant of everything I put in my mouth since then. There's nothing new there really, I've <i>always</i> been hyper aware of what I ate because I was counting every freaking calorie and exercising my butt off.<br />
<br />
Okay let's be honest - you can replace "hyper aware" with obsessive. I mean that's what it was. I was completely obsessive. But I've spent the last year or so really examining what this kind of thinking has done to me and how I can approach myself in a kinder way. How I can come to a place of acceptance for <i>who</i> I am, exactly <i>as</i> I am. That's been a huge part of my recovery. After I took away the booze and stripped my soul bare (which is EXACTLY what it felt like) I had no choice but to look closely at who I was and why I did the things I did. More importantly, I had to figure out how to keep the good stuff and ditch the crap.<br />
<br />
I've made a great deal of progress with all of this stuff but I continued to struggle with the whole calories, sugar, food, scale, weight, clothing size, etc. and I got tired people...so tired, but I couldn't figure out how to break that freaking cycle. I'd get a little ways toward something only to fall back into old habits at the first speed bump along the way. Situation normal...all fucked up.<br />
<br />
But then I found the Whole 30. I can't remember where I saw it first but I know it was on one of the blogs I read daily. One of you beautiful, wonderful souls (byebyebeer? runningonsober? karen?) talked about it and planted a seed and it grew. And I did it. And I felt FANTASTIC. <br />
<br />
And I broke the cycle.<br />
<br />
I stopped obsessing about how I looked and started caring about what I was putting into my body and what it was doing to the inside rather than the outside. I started paying attention to how I <i>felt</i> rather than how I <i>looked</i>.<br />
<br />
Un-fucking-believable.<br />
<br />
So I'm actually anxious to detox from a wonderful holiday season. Because let's be clear, I don't regret one single thing I ate. I enjoyed myself. I loved cooking for my family and baking the "once a year" treats. I loved not worrying about my diet because I knew that it was only temporary. It was a treat. And that's OKAY.<br />
<br />
And now I'm ready to get right back on that Whole 30 horse. Tomorrow morning I'll be<br />
practicing clean eating once again (this time no cheats...maybe...we'll see) for 30 days. After 30 days I'll continue by adding things back slowly, if necessary, and avoiding sugar as much as possible. And get this...I'm EXCITED. (Who the hell am I?)<br />
<br />
As far as exercise for the new year...I've had to come to terms with some things. I've been trying my best to learn to run but I've been thwarted by a bum knee as a result of extra weight and 20 years of high impact aerobics. Both my Athletic Trainer son and my doctor have told me not to even think about running (on pavement which rules out my daydreams of half-marathons and triathlons). Elliptical, walking, yoga and strength training are okay as long as I modify things like squats and lunges. The damage is done. My knee is old which makes me feel old but I'm not going to let it get me down. I love to walk (I mean <i>love</i> to walk) so that's what I'll do. I'm still wearing my FitBit and logging about 7,000 steps a day which I'll bump to 10,000 as soon as possible. Add to that the yoga, some Advil and an ice pack and I'll be okay. <br />
<br />
I've also made a pact that I intend to keep <i>no matter what</i>. I got on the scale on 1/1/14. I recorded that number. I do not plan to step on that motherfucker again until 12/31/14. Breaking. The. Cycle.<br />
<br />
This is going to be an <i>okay</i> year. I've come so far in my recovery (next week I'll be four years sober) and I've made great progress in understanding who I am and what I want. I'm also beginning to understand that I am <i>okay</i> and that, no matter what happens this year, I will continue to be <i>okay</i> as long as I stay connected to what's important in life. Things like God, family, friends, truth, love, kindness...and our dogs. Everything else is secondary. As long as I maintain an open heart...it will <i>all</i> be okay. It may not always be great, or fantastic or wonderful but it will also not always be shitty or hard or ugly. It is what it is and that's all that it is and that is OKAY. <br />
<br />
Jeez...I'm rambling...guess I'm a little out of practice since my hiatus.<br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-20850384319002156472013-12-31T09:33:00.003-05:002013-12-31T09:33:53.227-05:00You Say You Want a Resolution<div class="vk_ans" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-large !important; font-weight: lighter !important; margin-bottom: 0px;">
<span data-dobid="hdw">res·o·lu·tion</span></div>
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<span class="lr_dct_ph">ˌrezəˈlo͞oSHən/</span><span class="lr_dct_spkr lr_dct_spkr_off" data-log-string="pronunciation-icon-click" jsaction="dob.p" style="display: inline-block; height: 16px; margin: 0px 2px 4px 5px; opacity: 0.55; vertical-align: middle; width: 16px;" title="Listen"><input height="16" src="data:image/png;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAABAAAAAQCAYAAAAf8/9hAAAAcUlEQVQ4y2P4//8/AyUYQhAH3gNxA7IAIQPmo/H3g/QA8XkgFiBkwHyoYnRQABVfj88AmGZcTuuHyjlgMwBZM7IE3NlQGhQe65EN+I8Dw8MLGgYoFpFqADK/YUAMwOsFigORatFIlYRElaRMWmaiBAMAp0n+3U0kqkAAAAAASUVORK5CYII=" style="height: 16px; width: 16px;" type="image" width="16" /></span></div>
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<div class="lr_dct_sf_h" style="padding-top: 10px;">
<i>noun</i></div>
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<b></b><b></b></div>
<ol class="lr_dct_sf_sens" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px;">
<li style="border: 0px; line-height: 1.2; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><div class="lr_dct_sf_sen vk_txt" style="font-weight: lighter !important; padding-top: 10px;">
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<strong>1</strong>.</div>
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<div>
<div data-dobid="dfn" style="display: inline;">
a firm decision to do or not to do something.</div>
<div class="vk_gy" style="color: rgb(135, 135, 135) !important;">
"she kept her resolution not to see Anne any more"</div>
<div>
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<tr><td class="lr_dct_nyms_ttl" style="font-style: italic; padding: 0px 3px 0px 0px; vertical-align: top; white-space: nowrap;">synonyms:</td><td style="padding: 0px;"><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+intention&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CDAQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">intention</a>, <a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+resolve&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CDEQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">resolve</a>, <a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+decision&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CDIQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">decision</a>, <a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+intent&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CDMQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">intent</a>, <a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+aim&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CDQQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">aim</a>, <a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+plan&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CDUQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">plan</a>; <span data-log-string="synonyms-more-click" jsaction="dob.m"><span class="lr_dct_more_btn" style="color: #1122cc; cursor: pointer; padding-left: 4px;">More</span><div style="display: inline;">
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<a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+commitment&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CDcQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+pledge&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CDgQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+promise&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CDkQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a></div>
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<tr><td class="lr_dct_nyms_ttl" style="font-style: italic; padding: 0px 3px 0px 0px; vertical-align: top; white-space: nowrap;"></td><td style="padding: 0px;"><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+motion&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CDoQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+proposal&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CDsQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+proposition&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CDwQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+resolve&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CD0Q_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><span data-log-string="synonyms-more-click" jsaction="dob.m"><span class="lr_dct_more_btn" style="color: #1122cc; cursor: pointer; padding-left: 4px;"></span><div style="display: inline;">
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<div style="font-size: small;">
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<tr><td class="lr_dct_nyms_ttl" style="font-style: italic; padding: 0px 3px 0px 0px; vertical-align: top; white-space: nowrap;"></td><td style="padding: 0px;"><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+determination&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CD8Q_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+purpose&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CEAQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+resolve&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CEEQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><span data-log-string="synonyms-more-click" jsaction="dob.m"><span class="lr_dct_more_btn" style="color: #1122cc; cursor: pointer; padding-left: 4px;"></span><div style="display: inline;">
<div style="display: inline;">
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<a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+perseverance&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CEMQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+persistence&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CEQQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+tenacity&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CEUQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+staying+power&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CEYQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+dedication&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CEcQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+commitment&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CEgQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+obstinacy&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CEkQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+bravery&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CEoQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+courage&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CEsQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+pluck&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CEwQ_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1AFAB_enUS455&espv=210&es_sm=93&q=define+grit&sa=X&ei=7c_CUrKAM5GlkQer4oGgDw&ved=0CE0Q_SowAA" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a></div>
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the action of solving a problem, dispute, or contentious matter.</div>
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"the peaceful resolution of all disputes"</div>
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<tr><td class="lr_dct_nyms_ttl" style="font-style: italic; padding: 0px 3px 0px 0px; vertical-align: top; white-space: nowrap;">synonyms:</td><td style="padding: 0px;">solution to, answer to, end to, ending to, settlement of, conclusion to</td></tr>
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Yep...it's THAT time of year folks. Time to make grandiose promises that we won't keep that will only serve to make us feel like failures on 12/31/14. Why do we do that to ourselves? Because it's TRADITION.</div>
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Well...that's a tradition I can do without thank you very much. As you can see, no where in the above definition does it say... </div>
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<i>3. a promise made in the emotion of the moment (i.e. the turning from one year to another) that is so big and so impossible you toss it aside by the 6th day of the New Year.</i></div>
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Doesn't say that at all now does it?</div>
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Every New Year's Day I'm filled with the promise of new resolutions made only to be thwarted by leftover cake, well meaning relatives or just plain stress of life. I've had some success in my 52 years around the sun. One year I promised to wear my seat belt while driving (before it was the law) and I followed through. The next year I promised to wear it whether I was driving or a passenger and I followed through yet again. Yay me!</div>
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I quit smoking as the result of a New Year's resolution.</div>
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I quit drinking as the result of a New Year's resolution.</div>
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Other than that, my track record sucks. I have vowed to lose weight every New Year's since I hit puberty. Let's be clear, it's only been in the last 10 years that I actually <i>needed</i> to lose weight, but I vowed every year regardless, only to think myself a failure when it didn't happen.</div>
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What a waste of precious time and energy. Ugh!</div>
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So this year I'm going about this a little bit differently. We'll call it Sherry Resolutions 2.0.</div>
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<ol>
<li>I resolve to practice eating cleaner and staying away from sugar as much as possible.</li>
<li>I resolve to practice meditation and/or yoga every day in order to get more in touch with my spirituality. As an added benefit, I won't feel like such a fraud when I sign my posts, "Namaste".</li>
<li>I resolve to practice kindness at all times...even when angry, or frustrated or depressed...there is never an excuse to be unkind.</li>
<li>I resolve to practice approaching life from a place of love. Love for every one and every thing in the universe. That includes me.</li>
<li>On a more practical note, I resolve to floss every day and not every other day the way I do now.</li>
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And that's it. Note the use of the word practice (except for the flossing thing...I really need to do this). Practice not perfection. I can <i>practice</i> these things every day or as much as I'm able and it will all be <b>okay</b>. I will be a better person this year because at least I TRIED.</div>
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Happy New Year everyone!</div>
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Namaste</div>
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SoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-48628613480718793862013-12-22T19:39:00.000-05:002013-12-22T19:40:18.472-05:00I'm OutMy home is about to be besieged with all manner of chicks coming home to roost for the holiday.<br />
<br />
I am so happy I could BURST.<br />
<br />
So I'm stepping away from the computer for a week or so. I know, I know...you'll miss me but think of this as a growth experience.<br />
<br />
Just kidding.<br />
<br />
To all of my blogger friends, thank you for hanging in there with me this past year. Your support has meant the world to me. Plus, I think it's pretty cool that I have friends in London, New Zealand, Canada, Mexico and even Yemen for Gods sake (I think I just misspelled that...sorry). Not to mention those close enough to actually meet whether by getting in my car or taking advantage of a upcoming business trip. Your blogs have pulled me through some low times and your comments have let me know I'm not writing in a vacuum...that you understand what's going on in my crazy head, and you like me anyway. (You like me...you really - sorry, lost my mind there for a sec).<br />
<br />
Anyway, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year guys. And if you're new to sobriety and need a pep talk, I'll be checking email. You're not alone.<br />
<br />
And sobriety is the greatest Christmas miracle there is...I promise.<br />
<br />
To everyone, I wish you peace.<br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-88700508137845119422013-12-18T16:24:00.000-05:002013-12-18T16:25:49.526-05:00Random Thoughts on This Time of YearWhat is it about this time of year that leaves normies and addicts both with their panties (or boxers) in a wad? We're supposed to be all Peace on Earth and instead we're all get-out-of-my-fucking-way-I-need-that-toy-for-my-kid. Why do we take what is supposed to be about love and caring and turn it into a shit storm of agony and angst?<br />
<div>
<div>
<br />
I have no idea but I do have some thoughts....<br />
<br />
I don't give a fat rat's ass how you greet me this time of year...just that you do. If you're Jewish wish me Happy Hannukah. African American? Joyous Kwanzaa (if you celebrate Kwanzaa). Plain old Christian? Merry Christmas always works. And if you're conflicted just say Happy Holidays. They're all just a way of saying get-out-of-my-fucking-way-I-need-that-toy-for-my-kid so who cares? Just kidding. They are all a way to say, "I care about you". Let's not take ourselves so seriously okay?<br />
<br />
I am well aware that my ample ass and my sugar levels are not in need of Christmas cookies. I am also aware that I like them and I therefore will be baking them so put that in your Christmas pipe and smoke it. They will not be vegan, or gluten free, or sugar free. There will be no carob or agave or stevia used in my cookies. I will be baking the plain old chocolate chip or oatmeal raisin with the occasionally Snickerdoodle thrown into the mix (as well as Monkey Bread...can't forget the Monkey Bread...my grandchildren would kill me) and those funny little peanut butter things with the Hershey's Kiss or miniature Reese's Cup smooshed down on top. I will <em>not</em> be stressing about making the most recent Pinterest concoction that looks like Santa's sleigh and all nine reindeer complete with presents and Rudolph's red nose that sings to you and tastes like Heaven has melted in your mouth. Pinterest does enough to make me feel inadequate the rest of the year, I don't need it kicking my ass at Christmas.<br />
<br />
There will not be bows on my packages...get over it. I hate those little fuckers that come in the bag, are all squished and bent and refuse to stay stuck on my gifts no matter how much freaking tape I use to stick them there! There was a time that all my wrapping paper, bows, tags and ribbon were all coordinated. Bows stayed stuck, ribbon slipped elegantly from packages when being opened and names were clearly visible on each tag. Then I had children. Now I use Dollar Store ribbon and write on the self-sticking tag with the nearest Sharpie (so it won't get erased) no matter what color it is. Guess what...NO ONE CARES! If they are kids they're too busy tearing into the damn thing to notice the freaking paper and if they're adults they're thinking, "Who the hell is she trying to impress?" I love you. I bought you a gift. I did wrap it even if it's not perfect. We cool? <br />
<br />
I will be watching "It's A Wonderful Life" this Christmas Eve like I do every Christmas Eve. I will cry. It's sappy...so WHAT? It has sentiment. I like sentiment. This is the time of year when a Publix commercial can make me cry (it's a grocery store) not to mention Hallmark and Budweiser...don't even get me started on THOSE. I'll also cry when Frosty melts and when Linus gives his speech and when Bing unwraps his knight on a horse. Then I'll laugh at the Griswolds and Ralphie and that little dog that loves the Grinch in spite of the fact that he starts out a real asshole. It's part of tradition and if you don't like that stuff it's okay too! But I do so back the hell off.<br />
<br />
And I will put cookies and milk out for Santa. Because he still comes to our house.<br />
<br />
Because we BELIEVE.<br />
<br />
Namaste<br />
<br />
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SoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-14093378724023821672013-12-17T13:04:00.002-05:002013-12-17T13:04:41.989-05:00A Couple of ThingsFirst, to all of you Ugg lovers who commented yesterday...I KNOW Uggs are the shit in footwear, that's why I choose them for schlepping back and forth to the bus this winter (well actually I was looking for knockoffs but couldn't find any so I purchased the real deal...then Christmas rolled around and now you can't swing a dead cat without hitting a pair of knockoffs). And they are the most comfortable things I've ever worn on my feet and I am now officially an Ugg addict. But they are butt Uggly (see what I did there) and I am not used to wearing ugly shoes. So I have a love/hate relationship with the suckers. <br />
<br />
Still...the fact that I'm buying lower and lower heels and seeking comfort over fashion is really pissing me off. And that's a fact.<br />
<br />
Next, for some reason I can no longer comment on Blogger posts from my work computer. Who in the hell knows why...someone in IT decided that it was FORBIDDEN and so I wanted all of you to know that I'm reading even if I can't comment. (Yes I'm working but I read and comment on my lunch hour.) So to Barbara - I am so going to miss your posts. I'm glad we're Facebook friends and please keep me updated if you start a new blog. Amy - please feel better soon...sucks to be sick. As to calling in sick? Girl, keep your germs to yourself! Your co-workers and customers appreciate the effort.<br />
<br />
There is someone in my life right now that is sucking the Happy right out of me and I'm trying very hard to cope but it's getting more and more difficult every day. Just being around them takes me from a place of joy to a place of frustration and even anger faster than a Mazzeratti goes from 0-60. I'm very sensitive to the feelings of the people I love, so what they feel, I feel...for reals yo. I think I'm going to have to get some kind of force field to put around me to protect my Happy this holiday season. Someone call Bella and get her to drop that shield she used on the Volturi around me. (That was a Twilight reference...sorry.)<br />
<br />
That's all for today. Protect your Happy.<br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-26227122157631770262013-12-16T12:30:00.000-05:002013-12-16T12:30:44.011-05:00It's Official...I'm Getting OldNotice I didn't say that I <em>am</em> old. Because I'm not. And I will never be. I am the coolest, hippest, youngest mom/grandma on the planet and I plan to stay that way for-fucking-EVER and you can take that to the BANK.<br />
<br />
But I am noticing changes and this one hurts most of all. It cuts me to the core and leaves me raw and bleeding on the road of life. This is the cruelest, most inhumane, beastly sign of getting older and I'm not sure what I'm going to do or how I'm going to handle it. It's just too painful.<br />
<br />
It's not the post menopausal weight gain. I've made peace with these 40 extra pounds. If they are insistent on sticking around well then so be it. But I'm not letting them kill me. I'm dedicated to being a carb-less carni/herbivore that will keep my blood pressure and cholesterol/tryglycerides in check and therefore keep me healthy. I'm committed to 10,000 steps a day and anything else that will keep me active and vital. So if those extra pounds like me all that much...I guess we can co-exist.<br />
<br />
It's not gray hair because I don't have any. Yep, 52 1/2 years old and no gray hair. It's genetics so I don't take any credit for it. I still color my hair though. My actual hair color is the blahest, dowdiest, light brown you've ever seen. I hate it. So I color it and it's a different color every 6-8 weeks which is fun and hip. But it's not because it's gray...because I'm on trend!!!! Right! Yes...just nod.<br />
<br />
It's not that I can't hear or can't remember anything (because I've never been able to remember anything), or that my teeth are falling out or that my knee aches from too many aerobics classes for too many years on hard floors with the wrong shoes. No...that's not it.<br />
<br />
It's because I've lost my passion for SHOES!<br />
<br />
Look away...I'm hideous.<br />
<br />
I am a shoe-aholic and, up until recently, damn proud of it! I still love shoes - I haven't totally lost my fucking mind - it's just that recently I've begun to get uh...more...um...<em>sensible</em> about the shoes I buy. (Wait...I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.)<br />
<br />
The shoes I'm buying are still on trend but...uh...gulp...the heels are lower; the toe box is roomier; the colors are more neutral than my usual "POW". They are more...ugh!...COMFORTABLE! And I'm seeking them out! I'm buying them ON PURPOSE. It's not like I buy a pair of stilettos and accidentally happen upon a pair that is actually comfortable (I do have a couple of pair like that). It's that I insist on comfort <em>before</em> I buy them!<br />
<br />
No more, "I'll break them in," or "they'll probably work with a pair of tights", or "my toes aren't THAT squished". No, now it's all, "Nope...too tight," or "Nope...can't feel my pinky toe," or the worst..."Nope, the heel is too high!"<br />
<br />
Wait...I'm feeling faint.<br />
<br />
I'm the girl who spent six weeks on crutches and still wore one high heel every day! I had to replace all my shoes after the cast came off because one heel of each pair was worn down more than the other. For reals people...I was serious about my <em>heels</em>. I used to teach for eight hours in four inch heels and then walk to dinner with colleagues in the same shoes. Change shoes for dinner? What do you think I am? OLD?<br />
<br />
Yes...sniff...I am.<br />
<br />
And to prove to you how bad this is...I want to introduce you to my most recent shoe investment...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk3hYblLoR6_19Cjmf1TKxRWb2rBop2L0yuhESHnSx2RUOXt5NqBknpbjll0j7KTJuIzGvMX1CMoipR1cGDb-vzczW8EqAF8U7zrltAuUamuvpStp5QvUBfDZARwixRkJ6zU3S_1jB-aW-/s1600/uggs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" closure_lm_825545="null" dua="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk3hYblLoR6_19Cjmf1TKxRWb2rBop2L0yuhESHnSx2RUOXt5NqBknpbjll0j7KTJuIzGvMX1CMoipR1cGDb-vzczW8EqAF8U7zrltAuUamuvpStp5QvUBfDZARwixRkJ6zU3S_1jB-aW-/s320/uggs.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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See...told you it was bad.<br />
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Sigh...<br />
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NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958057397876971565.post-45070878496435500562013-12-11T10:17:00.001-05:002013-12-11T10:20:17.887-05:00The Reason for the SeasonTalking to the hubs on the drive in to work today (sun is shining blindingly...blahs have passed - thanks to everyone for your kind words...they really do help) and we of course got on the subject of Christmas. I wanted to know how we were doing on the money front since I'm working so hard to stay on budget. Answer? We're doing "great"!<br />
<br />
That was a relief because this time of year always weighs on my mind when it comes to money and shopping for the "perfect" gift for people. Many times without regard to what it costs.<br />
<br />
See, my mother equated love with "things". If you had the right things, bought the right things, wore the right things and, at Christmas, gifted the right things, then you were normal. No problems here folks...move along...nothing to see. Didn't matter how much it cost or how far in debt we were or how many nights she spent playing bingo to try and win the money while I stayed home and dealt with a drunk father. Nope...just had to have the right things. What's more, if <em>she</em> didn't get the right things as gifts (and it was <em>never</em> right), she'd pout and make you feel like shit all day. <br />
<br />
For years I didn't even realize I was replicating some of this behavior. I didn't realize that I was trying to make myself feel better on the outside with things, while all the time I was dying on the inside. And this was never more true than at Christmas. I gave the kids everything on their list, every year, no matter what. Most years, after all the shopping was done, I'd go out and fine some "wow" gift that they weren't expecting so that they would have "the best Christmas EVER." (Let's get them all new Macs! How about we go get them each a new car! Let's get them the XBox, Playstation AND a Wii!) Add to that all the baking, decorating and time spent with them and you have a shit storm of crazy, manic behavior that left me exhausted (and usually hungover) and feeling empty and most definitely broke and further in debt.<br />
<br />
No one (except, probably, the hubs) knew what was going on inside of me. The kids had a great Santa experience. The neighbors attended the best parties at the best decorated house in the neighborhood. Friends received the best cookies and candies made from the most trendy recipes. The house remained spotless at all times. The only difference between me and my mom was that I had more money and I could care less if I got anything - I just wanted everyone else to have "the best Christmas EVER."<br />
<br />
But then I got sober and began to recover. I started to dig and pick at old scars and uncover what was really going on inside this dying heart. I've written about it over and over in this blog but one thing that has finally, blessedly, come to pass is that this year I'm not stressing about gifts. I purchased things I knew people would enjoy, that I picked out myself but that are within a prescribed budget. I clued my men into the fact that there would be a strict budget this year and no "wow" gifts under the tree. I will make some candy and cookies but only if there is time and I feel like it. There will be no Christmas party at the Magic House this year.<br />
<br />
What there will be is a house filled with love and gratitude for the simple gift of being together for one more year. There will be gifts, purchased or made, that were selected especially for loved ones and given with love. How they take them is not up to me. What they think about them is not up to me. All I can do is love them and provide a small token of that love in the spirit of the season.<br />
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There will be a remembrance of the birth of Jesus and what that means in our Christian home (it's not the same among all of my kids so it's always a great conversation). Again, there will be gratitude.<br />
<br />
And for me? There will be some hard won peace. I am so okay with that.<br />
<br />
NamasteSoberMomWriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04845259535764391849noreply@blogger.com6