Early Drinking Days:
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.
Middle Drinking Days:
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.
Late (Alcoholic) Drinking Days:
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 relax? 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.
Early Sobriety Days:
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.
Present Day:
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.
Namaste
Friday, January 31, 2014
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Bread, 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.
It's not pretty.
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.
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.
Because that happens so often in this part of the U.S.
Um...not.
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?
Four years ago, if you had seen me 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.
Some things are best not left to chance.
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?"
Smoooooth.
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.
Sigh.
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.
Cause what's a snow day without chicken soup?
Namaste
It's not pretty.
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.
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.
Because that happens so often in this part of the U.S.
Um...not.
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?
Four years ago, if you had seen me 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.
Some things are best not left to chance.
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?"
Smoooooth.
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.
Sigh.
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.
Cause what's a snow day without chicken soup?
Namaste
Monday, January 27, 2014
Sometimes 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.
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".
Or so I thought...
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.
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.
I was wrong.
The older she gets and the older I 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 indulge rather than spoil. 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.
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.
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.
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.
But I can love it.
Namaste
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".
Or so I thought...
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.
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.
I was wrong.
The older she gets and the older I 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 indulge rather than spoil. 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.
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.
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.
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.
But I can love it.
Namaste
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Getting Pissed
I 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.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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.
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 pissed me off. And made me sad. But mostly pissed. At me. At genetics. At the alcohol industry. At anything. Just pissed.
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 worth 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 should 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.
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.
So I took action. I shook my head, smiled at my adoring husband and ordered dessert. Because there is no greater weapon against being pissed off at alcoholism for me than a good dessert. See, when I drank I never 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.
Namaste
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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.
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 pissed me off. And made me sad. But mostly pissed. At me. At genetics. At the alcohol industry. At anything. Just pissed.
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 worth 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 should 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.
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.
So I took action. I shook my head, smiled at my adoring husband and ordered dessert. Because there is no greater weapon against being pissed off at alcoholism for me than a good dessert. See, when I drank I never 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.
Namaste
Friday, January 17, 2014
Date Night
I'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.
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).
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Just kidding...about the last part anyway.
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.
Society can eat me.
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.
How's this...
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.
That's it! Simple stupid. Now if you'll excuse me, my ride is here.
Have a great weekend everyone!
Namaste
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).
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Just kidding...about the last part anyway.
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.
Society can eat me.
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.
How's this...
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.
That's it! Simple stupid. Now if you'll excuse me, my ride is here.
Have a great weekend everyone!
Namaste
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