Archive | November, 2013

Own your holiday

28 Nov

1:48 pm

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

Needless to say–but I’ll say it anyway–I’m so very grateful to have found this community, and to be a part of it. Just last night, I was feeling low, wondering things like, What’s the point of being festive without wine? Silly, and almost ridiculous after nearly 18 months of getting sober (and on Day 255 today of continuous sobriety), isn’t it? Maybe not.

I got some great insight from so many of your blogs, but the main thing I took away was to simply own my holiday. So what, I didn’t feel like going out last night to the first party of the season? I accepted it (after feeling bad about not wanting to go), didn’t overly dwell on how it related or not to my being sober, and prepared for today: friends in town, a new dress, a green bean salad, and homemade sorrel tea (my beverage contribution to the dinner we’re going to). I mean, I have SO many things that I didn’t have, let’s say, two years ago, it’s almost funny. Come on, at least I HAVE a dinner to go to, a dress to wear, and a body to put it on that isn’t being dragged around by my big, hung over head full of self-hatred. Yeah, there’s that.

I don’t know, I guess just owning my holiday is how I’m going to approach this season. I own my fun, my desire to socialize or not, my choice as to how I perceive all the “should’s” that go along with the holidays. I GET to own it, is the thing; now that I’m sober, I have a choice in everything. I don’t have to do what I don’t want, or what seems fishy or makes me feel weird. When I was drinking, nothing ever really felt right–especially my choices. Now, it feels like getting to choose what really makes me feel OK is what I can’t wait for, not the wine that made this all impossible to see clearly.

I can’t wait to see my old friends at the airport today–for many, many years, it was me going to them, and I’m glad that someone is actually coming to me this year.

I can’t wait to eat a HUGE fucking feast, and not feel too full because of all the wine I drank.

I can’t wait to watch others–yeah, I’m still in that place, but hey, it helps–get drunk and be out of control, compelled to drink more; and have it NOT BE ME. I am in control of my choice, and I choose freedom. At least for tonight, and the rest of the weekend. Whew, isn’t that a relief, too, to already have made the decision to remain sober? Now, I have the luxury of worrying about other stuff, like *everything worth worrying about.*

I can’t wait to put on my new red dress, and I don’t know, appreciate the color, the feel, and the fact that it’ll look almost as pristine after going out as before. I can’t wait to be that girl in the red dress who doesn’t “over-share,” or get sloppy, or get sweaty-headed (you know, that red, sweaty look you get when you’re drinking?). For so many years, I worried about people judging me for being too uptight (I was, I am, I own this now; I am guarded, and shy-ish), and so I drank and the pendulum swung HUGELY back in the opposite direction. I can’t wait to be controlled, to be direct, to stare at someone who is drinking and not flinch, apologetically look away, or make excuses for not imbibing. You can be you, but I’m gonna be me, mmkay? Here. Solid. Steadfast. Sober. And, fucking FUN to talk to for once–because I can carry on a coherent conversation. Shit, I can’t wait to be the “mom” to your 13-year-old tween. HA!

I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow and not have taken the security elevator in a blackout, not to have vomited on the “vomit shirt” that I won, not to have said or done something horrible to a stranger, not to have a blurred recollection of the yummy food I just devoured, literally mindlessly.

I could go on, but you get the picture.

Own it, people.

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That’s me in the spotlight, losin’ my religion

24 Nov

1:56 pm

It’s weird how a length of sobriety just kind of makes you grow the fuck up.

Sort of, anyway. πŸ™‚

I was breezing through “the past” last night, and that past included sometimes torturing myself by checking out web sites like Last Night’s Party. I mean, let’s face it, it IS tortuous–if you’re the kind of person I am–to see other people who are “cooler” and “more in the know” getting their party on. The kind of person I am (was) was too shy to wear anything like that, go anywhere like that, hang out with people like that. When I lived in the big city, I definitely tried, though–tried my hardest, if my drinking to excess had anything to show for it.

Someone, somewhere along the way told me that that’s what “the cool kids” do, is go out and have fun. And that, having fun means getting shitfaced and dragging your hair in someone’s (your own?) vomit during a dance move that exposes your ass and thong underwear to everyone in the house, and then, taking off your clothes and making out with/letting someone feel you up/having sex with a stranger.

Now, I’ve been to my fair share of parties, and done my fair share of nonsense, including all of the above. But, there is something about this site that always made me feel…less than. Envious, in a way. Like, not only was I not partying with “famous” people, but I also wasn’t partying THAT hard. Or, hard enough. Or, hard enough to be “young.” And to this day, going on that site reminds me that I’m “old,” or getting there–the days of being young and silly and drunk, hooking up with strangers are over. And, my biggest question to myself is, why the FUCK is this a bad thing?

What I’ve noticed lately–it’s hard not to; just look at some of the ways the half-naked drunk women are rolling around with their glasses of wine teetering in one hand (posed shots, or not?)–is just how glorified drunken promiscuity is. Maybe it’s just our rape culture–we don’t just use women as objects, men are plugged into their role, too (why on Earth would so many college boys think that it’s in any way OK to rape-while-drunk?). Now, I’m not religious, and I’m not that much of a prude. But, I just wonder, why are women being told that this is not only acceptable behavior, but that it doesn’t come at a price? NONE of these shots show the reality of getting drunk, naked, and promiscuous: the risk of assault, or catching an STD, or…losing your soul one hookup at a time.

Every time–and I mean EVERY time–I hooked up with a stranger while drunk or blacked out, I lost a little bit more of my soul. When I met the man who was my friend and is now my lover, I wasn’t even sure if I could have sex sober. What I also realized, once I confronted it, was how shattered my soul was. I had to collect the pieces off my astral floor (haha, just had to throw that in there!), day by day, week by week, month by month–I had to process the reality of all that promiscuity. Of how it drained me. Of how it distanced me from myself, which during the drunkest times in 2009, was becoming darker and darker–if soul acts like a full moon reflecting the sun, then mine was a patch of night sky, a hole of dark ink.

While I grapple with putting my “youth” behind me, which has been so heavily marketed and branded as something you can only have if you’re drinking in dark bars, doing “dangerous” nighttime things (that, let’s be honest, WERE fun in the act); I also grapple with continuing to put my soul back together. And, I wonder, WHO is going to stop using women (and men) with glasses of wine sitting on their raised asses, posing for doggie-style sex, as selling points for a life that is truly not worth living? WHEN are we going to represent that “dark” and “dangerous” lifestyle realistically, with its morning-after regret and decades-later soul loss?

I might just be speaking for myself, as I’m sure there are plenty of people who like having sex with strangers, drunk or sober; who love the excitement they find in it. I wanted excitement, too, but I also more simply wanted to feel loved, to fit in. I drank to blackout for the excitement, for the “opposite-of-bored”; the promiscuous sex was almost an unwanted byproduct of that desperation–I didn’t like it, and I didn’t want to remember it. I liked getting buzzed, and flirting, and letting go…but, it didn’t matter who I was doing the buzzing, flirting, and letting go with, you know? When I drank, it was for me. It just so happened that sex (or something like it) was usually how it ended, and it was better if I didn’t know about that.

(There were also bigger things, like self-loathing, a certain darkness inside–I mean, we all love Depeche Mode and wonder about dungeons, don’t we?–and really, this idea that I somehow didn’t deserve anything better than sex on a cement floor with someone who was at best, an asshole, at worst, abusive.)

On this Sunday, I am in a somber mood, thinking about all this. But, it’s part of getting sober. And, it’s part of solving–or at least pondering–a larger problem here that I can’t begin to get into but that I know affected me and my drinking LONG before I even picked up that first glass of wine.

Now would be a good time to drink…

22 Nov

7:33 pm

Now would be the time to drink, if there is one. I just finished three stories and well, two months’ income.

I’ve already blogged about why “now” would not, actually, be a good time to drink: it’s November 22nd, and I still have to find December’s income. I still have NO idea where that money is coming from yet–could be in the form of an assigned story, could be in the form of a story or two that I have yet to pitch. Ugh. Freelancing. And, then, there’s January, and February, and March’s income. Sometimes, I can’t imagine ever feeling like I deserve to rest, a break, a reward. Do I?

I did it, though. I picked myself up this summer, worked my arse off to grind this business to a start, and actually did it. I know being sober has everything to do with it. This has been months, years in the making. And I’ve worked really hard to get here–not just to have those handful of stories, whatever. I’ve worked hard the way you all know that this revising-your-entire-existence-on-planet-Earth is hard when you get sober.

Sigh. I still want to drink tonight, though. As a reward. As a break. It’s what I always did. It’s what I’ve always done after filing hefty stories. I’ve EARNED this, haven’t I? I’ve been planning it for months, in a way: once I get to “this” point along the way in the freelance thing, then I can drink.

I told my boyfriend I was going to drink a “couple” of glasses of wine tonight, but in my heart, I know I’m lying. For all intents and purposes, I’m not in the mood to drink.

But I still “want” to. So, what do I do? I go and grab my wine glass, fill it to the top (cuz that’s how I roll; 6-ounce “glass,” my ass) with some homemade sorrel tea, and whoa, what a surprise! Sorrel’s got a tinge of an aftertaste, and it feels/tastes very much like wine. I put ginger (along with cloves and cinnamon) in this iced tea, so it sort of burns on the way down, and once there, simmers in my belly. And, by golly, it feels like I’m drinking wine! And, no shit, I “feel” the symptoms of being drunk.

When I got drunk, I’d feel the good feelings–happy, excited, caution-to-the-wind, big ideas–and I’d feel the bad–dizzy, brain coming undone, spaced out, tired, bloated, stomach burning. Sometimes the bad would totally outweigh the good, especially toward the end when the buzz didn’t even show up. Maybe it’s my association of these feelings, similar to the ones I’m getting from the tea, with being drunk that’s making me actually feel drunk?

In any case, it just reminds me of how NOT WORTH IT it is. I just feel down, tired, spaced out, and my stomach is burning. I have that sick, wine aftertaste in the back of my throat, and I’m going to keep taking swallows of that sick, tart wine and make that aftertaste worse. Stomach’ll keep burning, throat will reflexively gag, but I’ll keep downing that wine–every sip taking me further and further outside of my head. Pretty soon, I’ll be tipsy, which may or may not involve feeling buzzed; my head will start to hurt; I’ll start to feel really dizzy; I’ll lose sense of my chain of thoughts; and I’ll feel confused, like my brain is literally coming unglued, as if big chunks of neurons are coming unhinged from one another, cell by cell.

And then, I’ll be like, oh, a bottle is gone?, and I feel nothing but numb. Not better, just numb. And sick. And drunk. And…now $10 is gone, the night is spent, and I have nothing to show for it except…a horrible day tomorrow of being hung over, of not being able to work or do anything I had planned. Ugh. It just adds up to zero.

So, yeah. While I “want” to drink, I don’t. And that confuses me, because I feel both at once. I guess I’ll just refill my wine glass with more sorrel tea and pretend I’m drunk. Or, maybe I’ll go to the bar (my neighbors are leading a pub crawl at the bar up the road) and watch all the drunken people perform their stupid human tricks?

No good can come. No good can come. I KNOW this, but… I feel left out.

You know, I used to hate those cautious people, the ones who were like, “Oh, I better stop, I’ve already had two.” FUCK YOU. I was so impulsive when it came to wine, so impulsive and dangerous in my choices, my behavior. Now, I’m turning (turned) into one of those cautious people I hated! Maybe I always was/am too cautious to allow my inner zen to be disturbed–maybe that’s the real me, and I’m just having to get used to her being around again.

And, now it’s 7:50 and the night is too old for me to start drinking now. Plus, I wasn’t kidding, I think I’m really heading over to the bar where my boyfriend works to make fun of (feel glad it’s not me) the drunkards.

200 days plus 7 weeks = almost 250 days! 50 more until day 300, and then…?

Update at 10:51 pm: so, I went to the bar, saw some people, drank some pineapple and club soda, and ate some Roquefort cheese (ugh, not only cheese, but FRENCH cheese; all I could think was, This would go so much better with some French wine). And, well, I still want to drink. I still want that “break.” I still feel left out, and friend-less, in a way. I miss drinking to socialize, I really do. Oh, well.

I can work without wine!

17 Nov

1:04 pm

I’ve had a lot of thoughts lately, but I’m just checking in today. Still here, still plugging away. I had two big weeks the past few, and today will be a big day, and then five more big days–all work, no wine. And, I am doing it.

It’s been tiring, and I still have to figure out the work-life (I have none to speak of yet) balance, but I’m actually really proud to say that I have three pieces coming out, have made my bills for October and November, and am *hopefully* going to make my bills for December (working up some pitches now, and waiting on some editing work to come through). This freelance life is pretty stressful, I must admit, and the day I go back to a 9-to-5 will be the last day I ever complain about working a 9-to-5; but, yeah, I’m proud to say that I’m not only doing it–I am doing it sober.

Honestly, it’s taken me over a year–almost a year and a half–to get my motivation and concentration levels back to where I can work. Well, to where I can work without the “reward” that was so wired into my brain. I can work without the reward of wine, and I can rest and get ready to work again without the reward of wine. There were a few times this week when I was so nervous anticipating not only my first interviews in a while, but my first interviews about things like cloud computing and SSRIs, and my first editorial feedback from a major magazine (ouch); so nervous that I couldn’t eat and all I could think about was, Why can’t I have my wine? I NEED IT. But, they were just thoughts, and as I tossed them around, I realized that I have SO been down that road: all wine will do is take away everything I’ve worked the past 18 months to get back, including my motivation and focus. I can’t imagine having to go through that getting-back process again, it was so tedious and hard-won. Plus, um, waking up hung over is something I cannot imagine doing right now, with deadlines to meet and a schedule to maintain–I’m my own boss, no one is hounding me here. In fact, it’s like I’m walking down a straight path now, and I simply cannot veer off. I’m not sure if I’d be able to handle keeping up, mentally, with my pieces and such if I distracted myself even for a few hours with wine.

So, it’s been stressful, but the important thing is that I’m managing it, and that I’m doing it without the crutch of wine. I can always drink after these stories are done, right? Right. But, then there’ll be something else, like another pitch, the personal writing, the long-term commitment that involves staying focused on a book’s breadth of research. In fact, it seems to me that there will always be a good reason NOT to drink. Or, there will never be a good time to waste being drunk or hung over.

And, honestly, after years of drinking precisely because I didn’t have projects, or the courage to start OR follow through on these writing dreams of mine–those two ideas are relief, cool water, opening clouds, a big wide sky. God-send-type stuff. I get it. I really do. No, there will never be a good time to waste being drunk in my life again. Who knew that would be a comfort to me, rather than a sentence, or a diagnosis?

So, on to my work (yes, I took on a bit too much and now have to punch in this afternoon), and a renewed resolve to make it AT LEAST another few weeks (300 days, my next goal, is right around the corner, and then there’s 365…and, it goes on, and on, and on).

Work is still my trigger, I just don’t react to that trigger

13 Nov

9:50 pm

Last night and this morning, I was in a horrible, type-A mood. Still sort of am! So impatient, so all about perfecting the process. I took yesterday off, and so today, I had to schedule about 4 hours of interviews. These were all for highly technical pieces, with business folk, so…you can’t be on your B-game (as sometimes you can be with scientists, because they’re more relaxed, willing to explain, tolerant of “dumb” questions).

Sigh. I realized two things: one, I really need to learn how to go with the flow again; and, two, even while I am passively disliking my work, I need it, like a fix.

The first is simple to examine: I have lost my desire to solve problems, to put up with glitches. And, let’s face it, LIFE is full of them. What I think it boils down to is having to be in a semi-agitated state all the time, constantly resisting the urge to drink. I mean, I still want to drink, and I still can’t drink. And, that takes energy, it takes work. It’s tiring being sober. (It’s also tiring having constant pain in my lower back, and having to worry constantly about making next month’s bills.) The point is, when you’re always on like this, it’s hard to be able to tolerate the little things. Like my phone not working. Like having to fix my gadgets–I HATE fixing gadgets, I just want them to work! Last night and today, I got so irritated by my phone not working, and a little thing that could’ve easily been solved turned into a big thing that ended up really pissing me off.

All that being said, I know I just have to find a way to be sober AND dig deeper. Channel more tolerance of the “problems” that I used to find fun to solve, of the bumps in the road, the minor obstacles. What can I do to manifest more patience? A walk helps. Petting the dogs. Laughing at something, anything. Just feeling grateful–I am alive, and I remember being more playful when it came to “things,” so it will come back with time. It has to, right?

The second thing is something I have to sit with. It’s like, I can’t wait until my work is done, is the overriding thought in my mind. And, After my work is done, I will have wine–well, that used to be the second thought. So, the problem is, I “hate” what I do? Yet, I get off on it. I NEED it, I can’t not do it. Is this passion, or insanity? Is it workaholism? For now, I don’t have time to change it; I need and want to make a living the way I need and want to. It’s an “it is what it is” kind of thing–like drinking was for years and years until one day, I just had to fucking deal with it. So, I leave it there, un-excavated, and continue living, working, being sober, and giving myself a glitter ball every now and then. Good enough.

Belle made a point in an awesome podcast about being a “dry drunk” today. I agree, that we don’t have to do anything besides be sober. No rules, no expectations beyond that. I am taking it a step further to say, no expectations beyond that UNTIL you’re ready. Until you’re ready, all the shit in the shit-pit can wait. It can decompose even! As I commented on Jen’s (who just hit 90 days–WOOT!) blog tonight, you don’t have to unearth anything right now. If you don’t want to do it right now, do not. DO NOT. Time will eventually come in and say, It’s time. Your heart and inner strength will tell you when you are ready, and YOU WILL BE. Until then, all you have to do is not drink.

Me, too. Me, too.

(Btw, 240 days today!)

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea if I drank” vs. “It wouldn’t be a good idea if I drank”

9 Nov

5:34 pm

Ahh, the mind. Chattering monkeys. (Wait: I actually have more respect for primates’ intelligence than that!) Chittering INSECTS.

These days, as I just commented on Belle’s blog, I no longer look at people drinking red wine in the sun and automatically think, Oh, sigh, I wish that were me. I wish I could drink. I wish I could be happy, like them. I wish I didn’t need the wine to do it. Are they really happy before the wine? Could I be? Will I ever be?

Lately, I don’t automatically want to drink OR want their happiness. I know now that “happiness” is big, wide, not easily gotten or defined. That it takes work. That I can be versions of “happy.” That I don’t have to be “happy” to be, well, happy.

Substituting wine for happiness holds no weight for me at this point; and, that makes me sad sometimes. Sure, I miss the buzz, and I miss what it represents (fun, youth, old times, etc.), but…I know now that when the wine wears off, all you’re left with is a fake time had by all, a hangover, and your untended sadness. You just can’t live in unhappiness for long, though. I mean, I think that’s what AA means by “dry drunk,” in that, if you come to accept the fact that alcohol does not equal happiness, then you also are compelled to find happiness where it really exists. Hard work, no avoiding. Growing up. Growing OUT. EXPANDING.

For me, it’s been about “re-training” my brain, as Lisa writes about on her blog, to dissociate “reward” from wine. And, it’s also been about coming to terms with the fact that my yearning is a good thing. I think I yearn for wine–what it used to do, give, be for me–but in my heart, I feel (know) that this yearning is actually for what makes me happy. Which I’m still figuring out. This yearning propels me to continue to seek out what will bring me actual happiness. There is no illusion anymore that it’s wine’s job. It’s mine.

So, no, it would not be a good idea if I drank.

That being said, lately I’ve been noticing my mind circling around one thought: moderation. It usually manifests in the form of a sentence sneakily similar to the one above: It would not be a BAD idea if I drank.

Would it?

Like, would it be that bad? Could I handle it? I suppose the “it” here is moderation. That horrible two-drink thing. ICK. EWW. GRR.

It’s a strange shift in perspective. It would not be a GOOD idea if I drank…when I am desperate, sad, mad, depressed, or existentially challenged. It would not be a GOOD idea if I drank in “fuck it” mode. But… What?

I don’t really have many “fuck it” moments anymore. I don’t seem to have those pits of despair, those desperate, sad, mad, depressed, or existentially-challenging moments anymore. Sure, I sort of have them, it’s just that when they come, I know how to deal with them. I don’t consider wine, it is not an option. I know what ELSE to do, what ELSE to think, and I’m pretty much able to let most of the unnecessary negativity go. I no longer need to warn myself, No, it really would not be a GOOD idea if you drank right now.

But…would it be a BAD idea if I drank? In moments of calm, of joy, of nothing special? I mean, how bad could it be? I could probably manage a night, maybe more–a week, a month?–drinking in “moderation.” However, I know from experience that once you let your guard down, once you open yourself up to the possibility of using that old, tired, haggard solution to your problems, it’s hard to consider the other, better solutions.

I think this is called “well-worn neural pathways;” or, in other words, “alcoholism.” Geez.

See, I’ve been wondering lately if–and when–I will be able to drink in moderation again. (I still have hope, I’ll admit it.) And, I keep telling myself, the only way I will allow myself to try is if I truly believe that I can take it or leave it. If I could stand over a bottle of red wine and say, “I could drink you…or not, it doesn’t really matter“–only then would I be “recovered.”

And, honestly, I can’t even imagine doing that yet–going on 17 months getting sober.

I’ve seen a lot of posts and comments about moderation lately. I know what you want, because I want it, too: We want to drink without the compulsion to have MORE.

Sure, we all CAN drink in moderation, if we activate our superpowers. The question is, do we WANT to? I mean, I am able to stop after two drinks, but it sucks. IT SUCKS. My version of hell, in fact, would be having to participate in one of those harm reduction programs where you and your counselor go out to a bar, you drink your two drinks, and then you both sit there together, coming down from your two drinks. GAWD. Talk about painful. Apparently, it helps you “moderate” your consumption by helping you tolerate your compulsion. To LEARN ways to come down and then, walk away. Um, WHAT? How is that NOT Dante’s Inferno?

Every time I’ve had two drinks (in the past, let’s say, 5 years), I’ve felt nothing but one of two things: an irritating-to-extreme desire to have more, and when I know I can’t, an irritating-to-extreme agitation. Moderation just seems HARD, so, I guess I’d prefer to skip those two measly drinks than have to deal with the hard work of stopping when I don’t want to.

“You play, you pay,” is what one of my wiser roommates used to tell me as he watched me deal with the night before. Simple, but good advice. For now, I’m putting the idea of moderation back into its box and under the bed. It’ll be there when I get back, I’m sure. πŸ˜‰

Don’t give up before your motivation returns

5 Nov

2:46 pm

So, in getting sober, I’ve realized that there are things about myself that I know. Things that simply make me “me,” that are neither things that I have to accept nor things that I have to change. They are things that just ARE, and these things are OK.

Like, I’ve always been an overachiever. Some of this behavior was maladaptive, but to a certain degree, I was just born this way. I THRIVE off stress, off getting things done. A LOT of people do, I’m not saying I’m special. In fact, I’ve been wondering about this ever since I got sober. Why have I been struggling so much this past year? Well, I’ve been lacking in motivation because I don’t have wine anymore, that’s true, but I’ve also been going against my grain. Why do I need to go, go, go? Why do I like big cities, with all their ambitious people and innovative ideas and commotion and conflict? I don’t know! I just DO. That’s me.

The past few days have been awesome–large to-do lists, lots of information and sources to research, too much to do, all of it competing for my time. I got off on working in environments like this–for years I worked in the startup industry, and when I went back to corporate America, I can look back now and say that’s when I became depressed. When I went back to graduate school and was once again stretched to my limit, I was on top of the world again! Too bad I didn’t know how to manage my stress and my expectations–my “workaholism,” I suppose I could call it.

It’s always been a fine line for me, but in re-reading my journal from this year last night, I can say this much: I was my most enthusiastic after returning from a weekend visit back to NYC; and, I have never been more vexed, in general, than this past year struggling with too little to do and no motivation to do it.

No motivation was a daily thing in my journal, from about March until, well, now. It’s seriously been a theme in my getting sober. It was a constant struggle, and I blogged about it quite a bit. Now? I feel like there’s been some movement, something’s changed. My brain is healing, for real. Chemicals and circuits are getting back in shape. And, I can honestly say that it’s been like a missile landing in my lap, this return of my motivation levels. What a relief.

My focus, my desire to work, and my ability to manage my time–it’s all back, so it seems. I can “parse” information even better than I remember I could. For example, I seem to have learned how to say “Fuck it” to my perfectionist tendency to get lost in the details when reporting, and instead, focus on the bigger picture, the gist of it. What I need to know is who to contact; what I don’t need to know is their field of expertise (that’s why I’m interviewing them), OR–and this is key–whether or not they’re going to think I’m stupid or ill-prepared. That’s none of my business, what they think of me. (And, they simply don’t think of me, is the point. When I was drinking, I was always so concerned with what others were supposedly thinking about me. Ugh.)

It really does seem that it’s happened only within the past several weeks, maybe a month or two at most–along with motivation, I find myself focusing less on the “what if’s” and trying to perfect the outcome, and more on the “why not?” and “just do it.”

I almost gave up. I was so frustrated that I was going to be “brain-dead” forever. It’s been almost 17 months since I started getting sober, so, seeing my focus and motivation needing that long to come back is DEFINITELY a deterrent to me starting to drink again (even in moderation, whatever that means).

These past few weeks, I feel new. Renewed. A version 3.0 of myself. (I was going to say 2.0, but I think at 39, I’ve already had at least one major upgrade, right?)

The point of this post is, don’t give up! It will come. As Carol said on “Walking Dead” on Sunday’s episode (because you never know where you’re going to find sober inspiration!):

How do you not feel afraid? You just fight it and fight it and fight it and then one day, you’re not afraid anymore. We all change.

Finding a Sober Miracle

A woman's quest for one year of sobriety

parking lot pushups

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Lose 'da Booze

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Life Out of the Box

Buy a product, help a person in need + see your impact.

Laurie Works

Intuitive Tarot Guidance

Drunky Drunk Girl

A blog about getting sober

New Adventures of the Old Me...

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The Soberist Blog

a life in progress ... sans alcohol

soberjessie

Getting sober to be a better mother, wife, and friend

mentalrollercoaster

the musings and reflections of one person's mental amusement park

TRUDGING THROUGH THE FIRE

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Guitars and Life

Blog about life by a music obsessed middle aged recovering alcoholic from South East England

changingcoursenow

A woman's journey to happiness and health

Sober Identity

Sober Identity #Life Coach #The 50+ Years #Striving #Thriving #38-Empowering Affirmations #"Emerge: Growing From Addiction-Starter's Guide" #AfterRehabCoaching #Motivate

WELL CALL ME CRAZY

This WordPress.com site is about hope, trauma, hypocrisy, and transformation.

A Canvas Of The Minds

A unique collaboration of different perspectives on mental health and life

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life with an alcoholic husband

Life Unbuzzed

Rowing my sober boat gently down the stream

ChardonNo!

Original Goal: 100 Days of Sobriety - New Goal: 200 Days

Sober Grace

Finding and practicing grace in recovery

IRETA

Institute for Research, Education & Training in the Addictions

Mended Musings

Healing, Feeling, Thriving

Brandy Shock Treatment

Therapy for an alcoholic

Stinkin' Thinkin'

muckraking the 12-step industry

Sober Politico

Young and Sober, Surrounded by Egos and Alcohol

Carrie On Sober

A blog to help keep me on the right track...

My Healing Recovery

Healing from the inside

The Sober Journalist

A blog about quietly getting sober

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My Desire for a New and Better Life

Arash Recovery

My journey to get back on my feet

Mished-up

Mixed-up, Mashed-up, Mished-up.

The Party Doesn't Leave the Girl

a memoir of sobriety...today.

Good2begone

I'm not really here.

Below Her Means

a little of everything.

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There are no coincidences.

The Red Sox Saved My Life

A peek into the recovery of another drunk.

1800ukillme

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The Existential Addict

One choice at a time...

Al K Hall-ic Anonymous

Get With The Program.

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How gratitude has helped me stay sober, "one day at a time."

Living Life In Control

A journey into taking control of life and seeing what's on the other side of the mountain

A Life Less Scripted

Adventure Travel

Bucket List Publications

Indulge- Travel, Adventure, & New Experiences

UnPickled Blog

How I Secretly Quit My Secret Habit of Secretly Drinking

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