It’s Friday!

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.


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.


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?”


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. 


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?


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.


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.


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!


Refuge From the Storm

Last night one of my son’s woke me at 2:30 to tell me that the young girl up the street (17) was spending the night because her mother had thrown her out of the house.  Her mother drinks.  The child has no idea how to cope.  Her mother is violent.  Child Protective Services has been called and the mother has been warned.  Apparently it doesn’t matter.  She stayed in my other son’s room for the night.

But on the way to work this morning I told the hubs that I didn’t want him alone in the house with her.  I’ve told my boys that as well.  The mother is crazy and I wouldn’t put it past her to accuse my men of something because she’s angry that we took in her daughter at 2:30 in the freaking morning!

Because clearly it makes perfect sense to put a child out on the street at 2:30 in the morning in the middle of winter.  And believe me, no matter how old they think they are, at 17 they are still children.

Clearly it makes sense to be drunk at 2:30 in the morning and arguing with your 17 year old who should be in bed because she has school the next day. 

I’m no genius but having been on that side of the wine bottle many times, never violent but also never in my right mind, and the fact that the young girl showed up at our door in tears and stone cold sober…well, let’s just say I had no problem taking her in at that hour.

Here’s what is amazing to me.  No one was out looking for her.  At least no one knocked on my door.  Let me assure you, no matter how drunk I was, if I thought my child was out there in the cold night somewhere I’d not only be knocking on doors, I’d be knocking them down.  And then I’d call the cops and get them to knock down some doors.

I don’t know.  Maybe she texted her mom and told her she was safe.  Maybe her mom passed out.  Maybe her step dad miraculously grew a pair and made the mom go to bed and then texted the girl to check on  her.  Doubtful…but maybe.

In any event, I hope that things have been worked out but if they haven’t, she’s welcome to stay as long as she needs.  Because I can’t fix her fucked up family, but I can offer refuge from the storm, a hug to make her feel welcome and an ear to listen if she wants to talk.


I Write

Once again I am unable to comment on Blogger posts from my work computer.  Last week I could…this week I can’t.  I wish the IT department would make up it’s mind!  So again, if I don’t comment it’s not because I didn’t want to…it’s because I work for the Internet police!!!  😉

It’s particularly frustrating because I’ve been clicking my way through some new and interesting blogs of late.  BTW, if you leave me a comment and you have a blog, I always click on your name, find your blog, read it (maybe comment IF I CAN) and put it into my reader so I can “read you” on a regular basis.  That’s the way I’ve found many of my friends.  That and going to other blogs and clicking on their blog roll to see what I can find interesting.  Lots of good stuff my friends…lots.

I still scratch my head and wonder about which blogs get loads of comments and which don’t.  I’ve never been one to get a lot of comments and I get roughly 100 hits a day or so on my blog.  And that’s okay…I’m not out here to count stats and worry about who’s commenting – when I first started I did…it was exhausting!  I’m out here to keep myself sane and sober and if anyone reads and wants to comment…BONUS!!!  I’ve also made some lifelong friends out here folks (DOUBLE BONUS TIMES INFINITY) and I wouldn’t trade them for a million hits and 100K comments.

But it still leaves me scratching my head sometimes.  Then I get all, “What’s wrong with me?” and “What am I doing wrong?” And then I shake my head and kick my own ego to the curb and refer back to the paragraph I just wrote.  Sheesh!

Then I wonder if it’s time to throw in the towel.  Many of the blogs I started out reading no longer post (still missing you Lou).  Some moved on with their lives.  Some were unable to keep blogging for fear of being found out or “outing” family and friends.  Some just ran out of stuff to say.  So they signed off, some for good, some to start other blogs.  If I have the address I follow the new ones.  If not, I just miss them.

And I’ve thought of all of that.  Am I outing family and friends (many of whom read this here blog thing I do)?  Have I moved past this whole sobriety thing?  (BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA…oh sorry…Uh…no.)  Have I said all I have to say?  Well, since I’ve tried to quit twice (or is it three times) and each time feel compelled to write…I guess the answer to that is no.

I write because it helps to get the crap out of my head and on to the page.  My head, like that of many alcoholics, is a very dangerous neighborhood.  There is stuff flying around in there that would make me insane (or drink) if I didn’t remove it.  Since I don’t have a pensieve and a wand like Dumbledore, I have to rely on this blog to get it out of my head and onto the page where I can see it, review it, and hit delete if necessary. 

I write because I’ve always wanted to be a writer but I lack one critical component…an imagination and talent.  I took a creative writing class once in college and it was…well it wasn’t good.  I recently found some of my old writing…I cringe thinking about it even now.   But on the blog I don’t have to worry about  my lack of imagination…I don’t have to make shit up.  It’s all for reals yo! (That’s for you Annette.)

I write because it makes me happy.  Since I am a firm believer in protecting the happy, I will continue to write.

Did I mention I tend to ramble…


THIS is why I quit drinking…

So we all know I’ve got four years of sobriety under my belt.  Four years ago my kids were 38, 27, 19, 16 and 14 (x’s 2).  Essentially, I still had a full house.  The first three were gone but I still had three, very needy and growing boys at home.  They still needed me for a roof, sustanance, guidance, hugs, kisses, some entertainment and a good laugh from time to time.

But I knew…

I knew the day was coming when they’d be gone and I’d be left staring at their empty bedrooms wondering where the time went and drinking myself into a coma.  I could see it!

I was right.

Thank GOD I listened to my gut (and my husband).

We took my youngest (by 21 minutes his brother will tell you proudly) to school this weekend.  He’s living on campus.  Now…it’s only 20 minutes up the road and I expect to see him frequently (at least to do his laundry) so it’s not like he’s 3000 miles away (how DO parents do that?) but this one is hard because I know he’s the one that will never really be “back”.  He’ll come home over break and to get a hot meal, but he’s chomping at the bit to get on with his life.  He wants to spread his wings. 

His father and I were discussing this the other day on the way to work.  He and I both were out of the house at his age.  Married (not to each other – when the hubs was 18, I was in kindergarten…ewwwwww) and running our own lives.  I left home and got married to get the hell away from the dysfunction that was my home.  He left because that’s what you did in 1966.  You got a job, got married and, for him, went to Vietnam.  Regardless of why, we were ready.

When I compare how I felt then to my own kids and how they must be feeling, I shudder.  Because time has taught me that I wasn’t ready, that the world was big and ugly and was going to hurt me.  That actually, I didn’t know shit even though I thought I was the shit.  But it was also exciting and new and…well…fun.

They’re leaving…and they are the last.  But’s that is what they are supposed to do…right?  I’ve always said that my job as their parent was not to be their friend but to raise good people who would be assets to the world.  People of integrity with a loving heart who cultivate goodness and light.

I did my job.  They are great humans.  In fact, they’re awesome.  For now.  I don’t know what will happen out there and what’s more I CAN’T CONTROL IT.  My job as I knew it is over.  I have children with the addictive gene that I’m turning out into the world and just praying. 

I’ve being reassigned.  My job now is only to support, guide and love them…more and more, only when asked.  They will, one day in the future (way, way future I hope) have families of their own that will be their first priority.  That’s how it should be.  They need to complete the cycle.

Have I mentioned that I don’t like change?  That I hate not knowing what I’m doing?  This job is new and unfamiliar and it makes me nostalgic for a different time.  And. It. Sucks. Ass.  Because I’m scared.  Scared = fear.  Fear = alcoholic out of control. 

No thanks.

I am SO glad that I don’t drink any longer.  This could have been VERY ugly indeed.


Job Hunting

No…not me.  I’m actually very happy with my job right now.  It’s the hubs.  He’s been retired since we moved to this area and has been the best stay at home dad EVER.  He drives my sight impaired where ever he needs to go and just generally takes care of the house.  I haven’t cleaned a toilet in five years.  Not to mention having dinner ready every night and not having to do the dishes (I offer…he says no).  Oh and the laundry?  Done.

But we knew that eventually he’d have to get a job because we need to pay off debt that we incurred while I was out of work.  I’m glad we had the availability when we did, but now it has to go.  I weighs on my mind like a 2,000 lb elephant and while I love elephants, I don’t want the sucker sitting on my head.  Not to mention the fact that the interest rates are of the 2007 variety vs the 2013 variety which just plain pisses me off.  I hate paying other people to use their money.

For the past two years, my man has applied to every job on the planet.   He’s on CareerBuilder, Monster, Indeed, Snag-a-job, and any other job site you can imagine.  The problem is, as we see it, he’s too old and too overqualified.  I’m sure people are looking at his “professional” resume and thinking, “He’ll never be happy here” or “He’s too old.  He won’t be interested in long term potential.”

These people and companies are missing out on the find of the century.  The hubs will do ANYTHING.  Nothing is beneath him.  And he can sell ANYTHING.  Besides, we just need a little extra income for awhile (because after the debt is gone, I want my 1950’s style wife back – he’s the best).  Plus, he needs to get the hell off FaceBook and FoxNews and talk to other adults for awhile.  I swear the way he rants and raves about politics, I’m expecting the Secret Service or FBI to bash down our door any day and take him away in cuffs!

But…to date there have been no takers. 

I know it’s a tough job market.  Until I got laid off I had never had to interview for a job…ever.  All my jobs were either as a result of someone reaching out to me or me getting promoted.  I had to learn the skill of the interview from scratch and position myself in the job market so that employers would even LOOK at my resume, much less schedule an interview.  There are so many applicants for so few jobs out there that getting noticed is the name of the game.

A conversation with someone else in the job market got me thinking yesterday.  A good way to get your resume back to the top of the pile is to take it off the internet, tweak it a little, and then upload it again.  That way you look like a new applicant and the recruiters start calling again. 

So today that’s what I did.  Here’s how I tweaked it for him…

Old resume lead-in:

Self-motivated, results driven, problem solver who possesses excellent sales, marketing, negotiating and management skills.  Extremely knowledgeable sales professional with extensive experience in anticipating, uncovering and capitalizing on client needs.  Proven ability to significantly increase company revenue by quickly developing positive client rapport, establishing solid business relationships and fully developing new and existing accounts.

New resume lead-in:

Retired (since 2008) salesman/banker/business owner who is just trying to earn some extra income and keep busy.  I come armed with a deep sales and business background to help your company reach its objectives; a strong work ethic; no lofty goals about where I want to be in 10 years; and completely negotiable salary expectations.

We’ve tried everything else…maybe a little honesty will be the ticket.


Celebration – Part II

Celebrate what you want to see more of.
~Thomas J. Peters

No quote was ever truer to my old life.  I had long since stop celebrating life and life’s events and had moved onto just celebrating wine.  Not celebrating with wine.  Just celebrating wine.  The fact that I could drink with abandon and no one could tell me what to do.  I was a grown ass woman!  If I wanted to kill myself drink, I could!  Leave me alone.  I know what I’m doing!  All I want is MORE!  Why can’t anyone understand that?

But the quote is also true now and will be forever because I want to celebrate more of what I have now.  I want to celebrate the peace that comes with sobriety.  It doesn’t come right away.  In the beginning that damned recording just kept playing over and over and over in my head and I had nothing to numb it.  It was more exhausting than anything I had every encountered while drinking.

But eventually it quieted.  And I found peace.

And so I want to celebrate that peace.  How do I celebrate it?   Well thank you for asking.

I celebrate by thanking God, several times a day for all He has given and all He has helped me build.  We talk a lot but I make a special effort every morning to really pray as well.  That way if I get too busy to stop and say “thank you” or “guess what” or “damn God, that was crazy” during the day, I’m covered.

I celebrate by trying to be kind.  I love that word.  I think it’s my favorite word.  You can be angry or frustrated or upset and still be kind.  In fact, I’ve seen seemingly happy people be very unkind (I don’t think they were really that happy to tell you the truth) from time to time.  As I said in a former post, it’s never okay to be unkind and guess what?  It doesn’t cost a dime.  Plus it fills up your karma account which is some good stuff.

I celebrate by looking at the world through rose colored glasses.  I’ve been called (among other things) a silly optimist, a hopeless romantic, Susie Sunshine, and my personal favorite, “For Christ’s sake Sherry would you stop putting a positive spin on EVERYTHING?”  But that’s just how I see the world.  I don’t think it will all work out, I know it will.  It may not be the way I thought it would be, but it still works out.  And so I celebrate that by always trying to see good and light and love in everything.

I celebrate by loving.  Loving not only people and pets and housing and jobs and all the other normal everyday things, but loving things that you might not think about.  Like the maintenance guy in your building that has some challenges but overall has a pure heart.  Or the homeless guy begging for money on the side of the road who may or may not be scamming me but who gives a fuck.  It’s cold and he needs money.  I’m warm and I have some (not much…but some).  No brainer for me.  Or the salesclerk who is being rude.  Who knows why she’s being rude but I’m certainly not going to add to her bad day.  I’m going to approach her from a position of love…and hope for the best.  Or the old pond along my walking route that looks just awful but is home to some of nature’s more beautiful creatures.  Pretty little frogs and graceful cranes and,  my personal favorite, Mallard ducks.  Or yoga (I’m sticking to my resolution!).  Or a big green chair by the fire that welcomes me home in the evening and in which I firmly plant my ample behind.

I celebrate by staying true to my sobriety and not letting myself down by drinking.  I know I’m only one bad judgement call from relapse, we all are, but doing so would be to violate everything I’ve come to love about sobriety.  It’s just not worth losing what I’ve gained.  I pray I never forget that. 

I celebrate by writing this blog everyday and communicating with “my people” (you guys are “my people”…I love having “people”…I feel like Beyonce).  People who have been touched by addiction in one way or another.  Some are recovering, some are just sober, some are still struggling and some are dealing with family members who are caught up in this web of ugliness and pain.  All are precious and giving and loving and without this blog, I don’t think I’d still be sober.  I know I never would have moved into recovery*.

And yes, sometimes I just celebrate with cake!  Because it’s good and life is too short to pass up the opportunity to eat cake.

In moderation of course. {wink}


*I talk alot about being sober vs. being in recovery.  For me this marks the time I moved from just sober to the place where I started dealing with all the ugly crap that I had shoved down for 30 something years.  It’s when I started to heal the broken little girl and started the journey to liking – and maybe one day loving – myself.  It’s different things for different people.  This is what it is for me.