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.

Namaste

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.

Namaste

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}

Namaste

*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.

On the Wagon but Off the Mat

I drive myself crazy sometimes…you know?  I just wish I would learn to give myself a break and learn some PATIENCE.  Over the years (and with the help of some really good meds) I’ve developed patience for the world and its people that has seen me through some trying times.  Not much ruffles my feathers anymore.  Most things are just not worth getting all bent out of shape over.  I like to cultivate a Zen existence.

But when it comes to me.  Ha!  I have no patience.  I want what I want and I want it now and if I can’t make it happen then I’m a total and complete failure to myself and society on the whole.  My latest “issue” with myself is my yoga and meditation practice…or lack thereof.  For most of the last 90+ days or so, I’ve only been on the mat maybe once or twice.  I moved out of my meditation/yoga room downstairs and returned it to the hubs for his office (which is good because instead of going upstairs to his desk, he was using my kitchen counter as an office).  I moved my mat, altar and lifeboard to the nook in our master bedroom.  I thought the change in venue might spur some action on my part.

Not so much.  About all its done is made me feel guilty about NOT doing it every time I look at it…sitting there…getting dusty.  Sigh…

I have a million excuses.  It’s been too hot (it has).  I’m working crazy hours and am constantly tired (that was true until my first Whole30…now I have energy to spare).  I should spend the few hours that I have walking the dogs instead of on the mat (they DO need walking – but…um…I’m not getting that done either).  I’ll do it after vacation.  I’ll start Monday.  Blah, blah freaking blah.

Why is it that the things that are GOOD for us we put off doing?  Why do we make it so hard?  The bad stuff we jump right into with gusto.  Yeah!  Give me another glass of wine!  I’m not driving!  Har har har.  Sure, I’ll have another piece of cake!  YOLO!  Let me try some of that fried cheese…it’s the fair after all!  Mmmmm….pizza…I’m on VACATION!

No problem at all.

But let me think about doing something that I know, for a fact, will reset my hormones, recharge my batteries, bring me closer to God and make me a more centered human and all of a sudden I’m the busiest woman on the planet and there is just no time.

Once again…I’m gonna have to call bullshit on myself.  And hit the mat.  TONIGHT.

Namaste

PS – Any Whole30 updates out there?  How are you guys doing?  Any stories to share?  I feel fantastic (well…except for the whole yoga/meditation thing).

Half Way There

Week two is finished and I couldn’t be happier.  That’s not sarcasm and I’m not happy just cause it’s over.  I’m really, truly happy with this!

I’m happy because I feel like I did before everything went to shit.  This is really how I used to eat.  I seldom touched sweets.  I didn’t snack.  I did eat a lot of bread and carbs but I was a gym rat so I kept the weight down.  And, even with going out to dinner and eating rich food (I never ate dessert) I still managed to maintain my weight.  True…I was also still smoking which I know helped to fill that hole in my soul but it worked.

After the kids came along the every night restaurant meals went away and low fat home cooking was the blue plate special in our house.  I continued to work out like a crazy woman and it became easier to maintain my weight.

So this journey feels like…well…going home.

The biggest difference is how far I’ve come in recovery.  I may not have figured out how to fill the entire hole in my soul – notice I said in recovery not through recovery – but I have recognized it’s existence and have begun to explore why it exists and how I got here in the first place.  In her ebook, “Break Your Sugar Addiction Today”, Cynthia Perkins says that, for some of us, by feeding our reward pathways in the brain, we become desensitized to the pleasurable reaction we have to sugar, drugs, alcohol, sex, nicotine, caffeine and even some carbs.  We build a tolerance (hmmm….sound familiar?) and seek more and more of the substance of choice in order to provide the same “high”.

When we remove one of the substances, we simply move on to the next.  And it starts in early childhood.  As a child we become addicted to sugar.  For me it was an escape from a screwed up household.  I guess I needed something to release those happy hormones cause it sure as shit wasn’t happening at home.

Later I moved to nicotine (at 16) which shoved sugar aside as the drug of choice.  Surprise, surprise I lost weight.  As I “matured” I added alcohol.  Partly from peer pressure but I think more from the fact that I was becoming clinically depressed and seeking more and more pleasurable things to fill the hole in my soul.

Then, after realizing my own mortality, I removed nicotine…and began to gain weight…and recognized a serious depression issue.  I sought help and began medication.  But that’s when the drinking REALLY began to escalate.

Then I removed the alcohol…and reverted right back to sugar.  Sigh…

So the difference this time is that I know that sugar will kill me because I’m an addict and one cookie is never enough.  On piece of chocolate won’t cut it.  A small slice of birthday cake is an insult to my neurotransmitters.  That kind of thinking will kill me.  It has to go.  Now…that’s not to say that I’ll NEVER have a piece of wedding cake or bowl of ice cream or piece of Christmas fudge because I will.  But I’ll understand the reaction my body has and I’ll eat it knowing that I’ll have a battle for the next day or so while I fight the beast in my head roaring…MORE.  I’ll have to weigh whether that piece of whatever is worth the battle.  I have a feeling that more often than not, it won’t be.  

Let’s see…fight the motherfucker or remain serene.  Move from living in the moment to constantly fighting a craving that overtakes all of my thoughts and makes me a bitch.  Risk an early death or continue to enjoy my kids and grand-kids.  Put that way…I call bullshit on sugar.

I’m very respectful of the power that son of a bitch has but I’m also very familiar with where his weaknesses are and, more importantly, I know how to whisper a lullaby which can put him right back to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cheats from the Whole 30 week 2:

  • Cheese in my morning ham and cheese omelet (weekends).  I’m getting a little sick of eggs at this point so I’m going to have to figure out what other options I have for breakfast.  
  • A Friday Starbucks Latte.  
  • Diet sodas…yes Mary…I’m still dancing with the devil.  But at least this time I’m leading.

Changes that surprise me:

  • I’m craving fruit.  I have not been eating it even though it’s allowed in Whole 30.  That’s because Cynthia Perkins doesn’t recommended it when trying to break a sugar addiction.  Plus, I don’t really like much fruit.  But now I’m craving it?  I’ve added watermelon, grapes, pineapples and the emergency banana (when there’s nothing else available) back in small doses.  I may have to amp that up this coming week.
  • Scales and tape measures are not allowed until after 30 days.  This is huge for me because I was used to stepping on the scale ever freaking day.  This moratorium has allowed me to focus on how my body feels rather that what mass it takes up on the planet.  It’s fairly liberating.  (But the shorts I wore yesterday I couldn’t wear two weeks ago…just sayin’)
  • Raw cashews are really, really expensive.  That is all.
  • My cravings have pretty much passed (you were right RoS…duh).  I sat at a function this week and stared directly into the soul of a piece of triple chocolate cake.  Nothing…nada…zip.  That was a huge relief.
  • The quiet in my head has returned.  I actually did some yoga and meditation last week.  Baby steps back in the right direction.

So on to the second half of this journey.  I’m trying to live in the moment but I can’t help but think that this is the way I want to live…forever.  We’ll see.

Namaste
 

Day 3 of "The Experiment"

Thanks to everyone for all of your kind and supportive comments regarding this next phase of tackling my demons.  I’ve read about all I can read (Whole 30, Potatoes Not Prozac, Stop Your Sugar Addiction Today, The Paleo Plan, etc.) and guess what?  They all basically say the same damn thing to me.

I need to get sugar and most carbohydrates the hell out of my diet. 

I’ve known this for a long time (like I knew I needed to quit smoking and drinking…duh) but I’ve been igorning it, trying to moderate, trying to make it work my way.  Guess what else?  I suck at this making it work my way thing.  Yeah…like I didn’t already know that.  Geez…

Anyway, for some reason that I can’t figure out, this time is different.  Just like it was when I finally walked away from cigarettes and chardonnay…this time my heels are dug in and I’m going at this thing.

Here’s how I know…

The withdrawals that I’m feeling and the things that I’m going through are EXACTLY the same ones that I experienced both with nicotine and alchohol.  I think I’m a pretty logical woman.  I’m know I’m a smart woman.  I can do that math.

This morning I woke up and found myself seated firmly on a pink cloud.  Haven’t been there in awhile but I sure as hell recognize it.  That feeling of feeling good not only physically but psychologically as well.  Being proud of what I’m doing and knowing its the right thing.

Even though my pants were way too tight this morning, I didn’t say one negative thing to myself or about myself.  It is what it is and it won’t be that way long.

While I’m not sure I can grasp “forever” yet, I know I can do this for 30 days and I’m only promising myself those 30 days.  I’ll reasses later.

I hit my “rock bottom” when my scale hit numbers I’ve never before seen.  I didn’t cry (which I usually do), nor did say, “well fuck it  – might as well eat another bag of chocolate chips”.  Instead, a feeling of resolve came over me and I began to plan.  When I start planning I know it’s a sure thing.

And as if to solidify this whole situation for me – today something happened that made me SURE this was it.

I pack my food very carefully based on what I’ve learned over the last few days (I need some almonds in the afternoon, two eggs doesn’t cut it in the morning, caffeine withdrawal sucks, “splashes” of cranberry juice in the evening wake up the beast and he pesters the shit out of me the rest of the evening) so that there is no reason for me to “slip”.  This morning I walked out of the house without breakfast, lunch or snacks.

Previously this would have been a “fuck it” moment – but not today.  I searched the city (it’s a very small city) until I found a restaurant with two boiled eggs and some plain greek yogurt (I skimmed off the fruit and granola and threw it away) so I could have breakfast. I refused to settle for a whole wheat breakfast wrap because I didn’t want the wrap.  I returned to that same restaurant for lunch and created a salad that was very close to the one the hubs’ makes for me.  At 4:00 or so I’ll go down to the little store and grab some almonds.

And here’s the most important part…not once did my mouth water for the pastries, bagels and other “breakfast” foods that are usually found in restaurants.  Not once did I crave one bit of it.  What’s more…I would have gone hungry or bought some almonds before I caved.

So I’m still on track and since I’ve never made it to day three before, I take today as a huge victory for me.

Now we’ll see what happens tonight.  Last night I threatened the hubs with the knife I was using to cut up my chicken. 

Hubs – “Honey, do you need some help?”

Me (annoyed because he made dinner for everyone else and forgot about me…remember, I’m not rational right now) – “You should probably just walk away and leave me alone right now…I’m armed.”

Later…

Me – “You know it’s me and not you right?”

Hubs – “I got your back babe.”

He’s a keeper.

Namaste

I’m Due For Some Gratitude

Well, I’m not due any gratitude…today it’s directed to God and the Universe and all the wonderful angels who help me through my life.  I haven’t done one of these in a very long time so I understand why I have writer’s block this morning.  It’s my psyche saying, “Yo trick…get to thankin’ some peeps.”

So here we go.

I am grateful first and foremost for my relationship with God.  Even though I’m always over thinking it, analyzing it, trying to make it better and just generally screwing around with it – He never wavers, never abandons, never leaves my side or my heart.  Be patient with me God, I’m just beginning to understand the depth of your love.  Thank you.

I’m grateful for my sobriety.  Three years ago I set aside my wine bottle because it was hurting my family.  What started as a gift to them has become the greatest gift I have ever given myself.  Even though my beast rears her ugly ass head from time to time and makes me think, she can’t make me drink unless I allow it.  I do not allow it.  (Have I mentioned I’m a Taurus?  I’m very stubborn and bull-headed…just ask the hubs.)

Speaking of whom…I am grateful for my husband.  He saved and continues to save my life everyday.  He’s pretty cute too.

I’m grateful for my family.  ALL of them.  They are my life and the reason that I breathe.  God put me on the planet to be a mom and I’m damn good at it.  Thank you Lord for the gift of my family.

I’m grateful for a job and a roof and for all of the material blessings that I have.  Even though we are struggling a little right now, I know that, if necessary, I could shed most of the shit I have and live on a lot less as long as I have “all of the above”.  I would sit on orange crates as long as I had “all of the above”.  (But let’s not be literal Lord – give me the good sense to make the kinds of decisions that will keep my ample ass OFF those orange crates.)

I am grateful for the internal focus that recovery brings.  I am grateful that I’ve begun to “let go” of some really old and cruddy crap that’s been living in my head rent free.  I am grateful that I’ve made room to really look at myself and realized that I’m okay…just the way I am…most days.

And finally, I am grateful for this blogging community and the friends I have made here and the solace you bring me when I’m confused, upset, happy or just bored.  Thank you.

Namaste

Answered Prayers


As you may remember, I prayed for this job.  I worked in this office for two years as a contractor and fell in love with the people, the organization and the work.  So when I heard that a position was going to open up, I called the manager and asked (begged) for the role.  Then I shut the door to my office, got down on my old, crinkly knees and prayed.  Hard.

It took awhile but God answered my prayer…and this time he said yes.  So, in spite of the fact that the role I have can be frustrating and doesn’t use my talent and experience to it’s fullest potential, I’m here.  I’m also making decent money with decent benefits in a company for which most people would be proud to work.

But my ego has been threatening to get in my way.  My corporate title took a major hit when I took this job.  A lot of the time, I’m doing work that is somewhat mindless and because the boss lady is a control freak, it takes her a long time to hand over projects so I get things piecemeal.  But I knew all that when I accepted the position so most days I tell my ego to shut the fuck up and I go to work.

And I pray.

I pray that God, in his own time, will show me where I’m supposed to be and what I’m supposed to be doing.  I pray that He helps me to keep that stupid ego in place and teach me when I need to shut my big fat mouth and when it would be a good time to open it.  I pray for patience and perseverance while I build this next chapter in my career that will likely be my last in corporate America (of course…you never know).  I pray for grace.

And once again, He has answered.  The boss lady came back from a trip to headquarters yesterday with news that she’s placed me in line for some new responsibilities that will use my experience to it’s fullest and provide a promotion and a raise.  It’s not a done deal yet but it’s very, very close.

So now I’m saying thank-you to the Big Guy for answering my prayers…all of them…even when the answer is not yes.

I’m also praying for humility and, most importantly, that next time I’m frustrated or questioning His judgement – I will remember to have FAITH.

Namaste

I asked for wisdom…
And God gave me problems to solve.
I asked for prosperity…
And God gave me brains and the strength to work.
I asked for courage…
And God gave me danger to overcome.
I asked for love…
And God gave me troubled people to help.
I asked for favors…
And God gave me opportunities.
I received nothing I wanted.
I received everything I needed.
My Prayer has been answered.

~Anonymous, (of Islamic origin)

Thinking About Drinking

One of my favorite new blogs is Tired of Thinking About Drinking.  It’s written very well from a place of honesty and truth.  I love blogs like that.  Check it out and see if you like it too.

For some reason, during my walk this morning the blog title kept popping in my head and I started thinking back to some of Belle’s posts.  Specifically, the ones that discussed the fact that she was, in fact, tired about thinking about drinking.  Not just tired about thinking about it when she was drinking but tired of thinking about it in sobriety.  Hmmmm….

Am I tired about thinking about drinking?

When I was drinking?  Oh hell yes!  It was exhausting.  Every day was like the last and it never, ever stopped.  From waking up with the shame and humiliation, to the rationalization of the night before, to the planning for the next evening.  And then there are the thoughts about my kids.  Yeah…those were tough.

But after I quit?  Hmmm.  I know in the beginning it was a 24/7 thing.  I ate, drank, breathed, and lived sobriety.  Some days were not one day at a time, some were one minute at a time.  But just like anything else, time heals.  Eventually it stopped being my whole day and became just part of my life.

Here’s what I mean.  If I were a diabetic, managing that would become part of my life.  Not my whole life but a very important part of it because, if I didn’t manage it, I would die.  Alcoholism is no different.  It’s not my whole life but if I don’t manage it I will, most definitely, die.  And not in a get old and die in a garden playing with my grandchildren at 92 kind of way; but in a slobbering, shitting yourself, turning yellow and shriveling up at 52 kind of way.  Um…no thank you.

That means I have to think about it so that I can be vigilant.  Again, if I were a diabetic I would also think about it.  Depending upon the severity of the disease, I would have to manage my blood sugar level often during the day and have the supplies on hand to manage the levels.  That means I would have to plan my life around food and insulin whether by pump or syringe.  As an alcoholic, it comes to mind erratically.  Sometimes it comes out of the blue, seemingly from nowhere and knocks me on my ass.  Other times I know I’m walking into a situation that might be difficult so I’m more prepared.

So I must plan for my disease.  I stay on blogs and read about and try to help those with fewer days sober and learn from those who have many, many more days than I.  I exercise and practice yoga and meditation.  I pray and keep my connection to my higher power (God in my case) strong.  I write my own blog and process through my feelings.

And yes, sometimes I become weary of managing this disease.  I have a pity party from time to time.  I’ve also been known to throw a tantrum or three. I bitch.  I moan.  And then I get the hell over it and thank God I’m on this side of the addiction because the other side really, really sucks ass.  Especially the dead part.

It’s not really any different than my diabetic friends.  They too get weary and have tantrums and pity parties and bitch and moan.  But the ones I know also get over it and thank God that they have the tools to manage their disease because without them they would be dead as well.  And that is definitely not a good thing.

So for me it’s not so much that I’m tired of thinking about drinking.  I was tired of thinking about drinking.  Now I’m grateful that all that thinking brought me to a place where I can be in recovery, manage my disease and just live my life with peace and serenity in my heart.

Namaste