Today, I had two firsts in my sobriety, and they took me by surprise.
One, I got so busy this past week that I forgot to think about drinking. Yes, it’s possible. Who knew? I mean, I didn’t even think about this blog once today, and it was only after I finished my second interview for a job I’ve applied to (we’ve been having them over Skype) that I realized I hadn’t thought about drinking or checked my blog.
Second, I went out tonight with a friend, and we ordered virgin “frou frou” drinks–all juice and mango and pink and swirls. So, I never understood former drinkers (or current ones) in AA when they talked about the anxiety that came with planning to binge or drinking that first drink. I mean, when I drank to ease my anxiety, it worked! Tonight, though, I felt physical aversion to booze; I think I may have even felt nauseated if I had had the chance to smell it. Tonight, as I stared at the tropical drinks being made for others, and when I thought about taking a sip and having that feeling of “hard booze-drunk” come over me–it made me feel anxious. Like, nervous. Didn’t I ever feel this way toward wine? Maybe. I think I just got used to blocking out that sense of foreboding when I would open a bottle, that feeling of, Oh, boy, here we go again. Tonight, I simply wanted nothing even close to rum in my drink, and most importantly, nothing even close to the anxious (to me, anyway), adrenaline-tinged high that comes with that first horrible sip infiltrating my bloodstream. From the very first sip, I thought, drinking is just…exhausting. (Disclaimer: I have never liked drinking hard booze, and liked the buzz even less. It was too fast, too harsh, and left me feeling like I was tottering on the edge of a cliff, my legs weak and shaking in the face of the precipice. Wine, on the other hand, all warm and fuzzy and making me feel excited and connected–well, until I didn’t anymore, blacked out, and woke up not remembering having said WAY too much to this person and done WAY too much with that. Plus, the wallet, pieces of clothing, expensive jewelry, and other stuff–thank God(dess), never a tooth–missing.)
This week has been busy with work, some interview prep, and the friend I went out with tonight has been in town, so I’ve been hanging with her. She’s a yoga teacher, so she’s a good person to do things with sober (and it really HELPS to do sober things with sober, or at least, like-minded peeps): it makes PERFECT sense to her to save her body instead of wasting it on the poisons of sugar and alcohol.
Honestly, I haven’t had many pangs this week, and the ones I have had have been quickly ushered out by what I learned last Monday night: while drinking may SEEM like a good option to resolve my negative feelings and thoughts/thoughts and feelings, it simply isn’t. After almost six months, it’s just automatic to KNOW, without giving much thought to the voice of craving, that it’s like, not a good idea AT ALL to drink the day before an interview. Or, the night before a get-together. Or, a day of hard work planned. Oh, and nearly impossible to train for a road race AND drink, whatsoever. After almost six months, I know that one slip will not lead me down the road to oblivion; au contraire–it’s helped to make clearer, to clarify, my commitment to not drinking as a lifestyle choice. I have too much riding on my sobriety, aka “my life,” to ruin it by drinking.
I have too much to do to remember that I want a drink!