This message was sent to subscribers by email september 29th.
because i’m not drinking any more, i can set my alarm for 6:30 a.m. on a saturday and not hate my life. i can get up and make bread and grate cheese and make lists. i can drink instant coffee in the dark, no need for music, just puttering along. take out the butter to soften. chop the onions. save the loud stuff until at least 9:00 am (to spare my neighbours the sound of mixers and machines). husband gets up later, starts to vacuum and mop and do dishes. i’ve been working hard this week on his paintings, so his ability to help early on a saturday is unspoken and easy. it wasn’t always like this. we lived in a place of soft resentments. pleasant enough, but stuff under the surface that would periodically pop out, and it’d be hard to track it back to WHAT started it.
resentment. when you do something you don’t want to do and say ‘fine’. resentment. when you help because you know you should help your wife with her passion, but you’re not feeling fulfilled in your own life so you do the dishes, but you leave one pot. or you sweep but not the corners. (contrast to last night, he was cutting up cardboard, breaking it down to size for shipping IN ADVANCE, at 9 p.m., but also to get it out of the dining room finally and onto a shelf in the bedroom.)
because i’m not drinking any more i can see his efforts, not point out the spot missed on the floor. i can say thank you. it doesn’t take much to have a wheel that spins in a positive direction. i feel good, i do nicer things, you feel better, i notice, you comment, the wheel turns. it also doesn’t take much to stop that wheel and have it spinning backwards (why haven’t you, why can’t you see, don’t you know, it’s about time you …).
i’m not perfect. i spill the grated cheese on the freshly vacuumed floor. he comes and re-vacuums. he doesn’t give me shit. i will return the favour when he cleans a saucepan without his glasses and leaves a chunk of quinoa in the bottom. i can wash it. i can turn the forks over. i want to keep the wheel spinning in the right direction.
if i was hungover? all bets are off.
from the blog:
Day 15. I called this blog “tired of thinking about drinking” because there’s a lot of noise in my head about booze. when to have it, how much, how close together, did he get more, will there be enough.
but i’ve never come across text that explains this ‘noise’ better than my new friend Cleo:
“Moderation does not work for me. Been there so many, many times. My brain is addicted to wine and the addicted brain needs absolute clarity. *Maybe just one* starts up too much discussion between all my selves. *None* is easier for all of us to understand.”
I’m going to print this out and tape it to the edge of my computer monitor so that i can stare at it. My selves. yes, the noise in my head is my rational self talking to my addicted self. and yes, firm boundaries and absolute clarity means no bargaining.
this new note will go up next to the one that’s already attached to my monitor.
I wrote this (to myself) in the fall (perhaps mid-october-ish), i wrote this after consuming my 3 drinks:
“It gets between me and my life, between me and you, between me and serving, between me and fun. it affects my weight, my sleep, my enthusiasm. it blunts, numbs, fills time, expands into the space allowed. adds nothing, feels bad, sad, argumentative, irritated. this isn’t the real me. And escape? There’s nothing to escape from, it isn’t bad here, there’s joy and beauty and ease here. don’t need to ‘go’ anywhere else.”
if you’re brand new to the idea of being sober, or you’re a lurker, or you’re sober-curious — then welcome. you’re here!
i’m going to release a set of brand new audios especially for lurkers beginning next week (october 29, 2018). the price will be only $10, as I have received some donations specifically to support other sober folks. like you. more here > exit audios (sponsored by donations).
audios developed especially for you if you’re struggling to get going