I’m back in San Francisco this week and I still love this city to pieces. No matter how many times I visit, I never get sick of this part of the country. In a word…it’s glorious. Even if people are a little, um, different. Then again, I probably seem very, um, different to them also. Touche.
Last time I was here my beast snuck up behind me and bit me on the ass. It was surprising and knocked me a little wonky. This time? Not so much. Not one alcohol craving and not one sugar craving. Part of that is the detox and the fact that sugar is no longer one of my major food groups and part of it is that I’ve said “no” to offers of drinks and parties after work. It’s working out great. I’m walking and getting my 10,000 steps in (which in this city is easy…you can walk EVERYWHERE here and feel relatively safe), eating well (yay Whole Foods four blocks away) and, sleeping okay. I’m also listening to my inner introvert and taking good care of her.
After all this time on the planet and almost four years sober, I’m finally realizing that I’m not the party animal I thought I was. People…that’s kind of a big fat hairy deal. I really fancied myself quite the party girl “back in the day”. I could drink almost anyone under the table and was quite proud of that fact. I was always the one who wanted to keep the party going just a little bit longer. I loved to dance. I loved to get dressed up.
Shit, let’s face it…I loved to drink.
So now that I don’t drink, I’m seeing myself through a different filter. I’ve “reduced noise” on the picture of myself that’s in my head. (I love that option in Photoshop and I love what it’s called.) In doing so, I’ve uncovered things I’ve always known but tried to hide because I thought I’d be labeled a dud and never be invited to the party all the cool kids were going to. And to not be invited would be the worst thing EVER. Even if I think all those cool kids are full of shit and pompous as hell, they have to like me. Right?
Well…no actually. They don’t have to like me. At the tender age of 52 years old, I’ve finalized realized that it’s okay if everyone doesn’t like me. It’s fine. I won’t die if everyone on my floor doesn’t find me captivating. If everyone with whom I come in contact isn’t drawn to me like a moth to a flame, the world will keep turning and I will still be one of the most blessed woman on it.
Sooooo…bless me reader for I have sinned…here is my confession.
I don’t like cocktail “receptions” where you drink and make small talk with people you would never be friend’s with in real life and who you don’t give a rat’s ass what they think. I never did – I just went for the free booze.
I don’t like work dinners where you’re stuck with people you barely know for 2-3 hours. I never did – I just went for the free booze.
I don’t like loud, crowded parties where you talk to people you barely know and can’t find your best friend who’s also the host because she’s trying to keep everyone happy. I never did. I went to support said friend and usually ended up in the kitchen cleaning and drinking rather than partying and drinking. If there were kids present at the party, I would put down the wine and go play with them until their bedtime…then I’d get my drink on.
I don’t really like entertaining anymore. I used to throw big parties that cost a lot of money because it was an excuse to drink in my home and not have to drive. I give good party but now…not so much. I’d much rather invite my close friends over for dinner on Sunday. Or have them over for a cookout in the summer where everyone brings something and we all just sit around and talk.
I don’t like having to go out after work. I used to want to go out to dinner every night because I didn’t drink at home and so the only way I was going to get my booze fix was to go out. I prefer staying home.
Am I boring? Maybe. But I’m an introvert. And in spite of all the ups and downs of life, the anxiety that pops up from time to time, the stress of daily living and all that other shit that comes along, I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.