Sober Girls’ Photography Project: Sober Morning, deadline, Tuesday @ 12 noon Eastern.
Here are a few notes from my inbox this weekend…
R (day 48): It was trigger-filled (family drama), and I must admit I wanted to get drunk to just “deal” with the feelings. But, I know that’s not really “dealing” so I resisted, but I learned today that “wolfie” is still alive and well in the dark corners of my mind. Kept him at bay, though. Praying extra hard tonight for strength and giving thanks that I made it through this trigger situation.
Me: wolfie lingers, looking for cracks. you quickly realize he’s there, and you patch over the cracks with distraction, support, prayer, reading, exercise, sleep. and then he gets bored …
KT (day 43): I didn’t miss out on anything by not drinking. I just hate sitting there when I could be in bed …
A [not yet sober, but was sober for a stretch recently]: I know what to do but I find it really hard to take the leap. Am I afraid of being in control of my life again, maybe even be happy again? I think the short answer for now is yes, I’m shit scared.
Me: if you’ll allow me, I don’t think it’s you who’s scared. it’s the booze. the booze itself makes us anxious, depressed, rigid, controlling. once the booze is removed, and it doesn’t take that long, you realize that it’s the booze that made you feel that way, and that inside you are NOT broken. you just thought you were. because the booze was whispering sweet nothings in your ear…
honestly, if it didn’t get MUCH better, no one would ever get and stay sober 🙂 hugs, from me
S (day 23): A very good friend I haven’t seen for the past 5-6 weeks meets up with me and the first thing she says as she sees me in the coffee shop we’re meeting up in: “Woa! What happened to you! ARE YOU IN LOVE!? YOU MUST BE IN LOVE – LOOK AT YOU!?” So. One of the more pleasant side-effects of not drinking for 21 days and lately swapping the time previously spent drinking for exercising: You glow like you’re in love. Not bad that! 😉
Quill (day 13): The past couple days I have actually had little pity parties that I am just well and mature enough NOT to drop back into the deep end of crazy … and pure wild self-hatred. Why do I have to be a grown-up instead? Why do I have to be aware of my illusions, my responsibilities, my therapy and recovery tools, my loved ones who care about my happiness? (Those jerks!) Why can’t I run away and live in a museum like the kids in The Mixed-up Files book? It sounds so weird, to want to be so miserable. I can’t explain it myself. I just know it’s not really an option; it’s a fantasy of a trip to a country that doesn’t exist. So I let myself pout (I literally stick out my lower lip and stamp my foot) and then I get on with my day.
Me: nobody wants to grow up. it’s boring and you have to pay bills and be responsible. … OR … Everybody wants to grow up. we want to decide how great our lives are, stay up too late on occasion, eat dessert first, and make / do / be and see very cool things in the world without blinders. we want to drive in cars and feel happy. we want to take pictures, make cake, hug husbands and sunbathe and just feel ‘good’. and yes, those of is in sober land aren’t smoking crack, it really is ‘good’ here. quite very good. and thank fucking jeezus for that.