We were out to dinner with my oldest-at-home the other night and I said to him and the hubs, “What would you do if I ordered a glass of wine right now?”
They both looked at me like I had grown a horn between my eyeballs.
My son said, “I’d tell them to take it back!”
“No you wouldn’t,” I said. “That’s my job – you don’t need to worry about it.”
Then my husband said, “Well…I’d wait to see if you actually drank it…then I guess we’d start counting again.”
As most of you know, I had my sobriety date tattooed on my right wrist. My drinking hand. It has served as a reminder to me of how important this journey is. Of how far I’ve come. Of how far I’d fall if I started drinking again. It’s been a good thing.
But when the hubs mentioned counting, the first thing that popped into my mind was…It’s not about the number. That shocked me! When did I stop counting? When did I stop caring about how many days sober I had? When did those little numbers on my right wrist become redundant?
The more I thought about it and the more we talked about it, the more I realized that it hasn’t been about the number in a very long time. The fact is, I really don’t care anymore how long I’ve been sober – I only care that I am right now. I also don’t care about whether I drink tomorrow or next week or in the next decade because it doesn’t matter either. What matters is the now.
What matters is the happy.
After some discussion I said, “The reason I won’t drink is because, for the first time in my entire life I am truly, blissfully and peacefully happy. I can see all my blessings and feel the joy they provide. I can feel pain and sorrow without the need to run away and numb it therefore, I can move past it. I can be present in each and every moment (good or bad). I can deal. I can’t risk giving that up. I can’t risk the happy.”
I’m thinking about having the tattoo on my wrist removed and replacing it some pretty script that says…