An Old Way of Thinking

Before I got sober I would keep track of the calories burned while using the treadmill, the elliptical, the recumbent bike the rower, etc...Not for a health reason but for a "How many drinks can I have before I go over the calories burned" reason.  Sad. 

Aced Another Test

Last weekend Mr.Stitches and I visited our youngest daughter at college.  She goes to school in Mr. Stitches hometown.  We stayed at his parent's house.  They move to a southern state for a few months every year so no one was there.  Mr. Stitches comes from a family of big drinkers.  I don't think I have ever gone to his family's home and not had a drink, except when I was expecting.  Even when we stay at their house when they aren't there I would still drink.  The only thing I had this weekend was ice water, coffee, and orange juice.  I didn't WANT anything else!  

The next time we go back will be when the family gets together this spring.  I feel stronger having made it through my first time staying at the house sober - without an "audience".  Probably no one other than his sister, "the biggest drinker in the family" will notice.  And she will.  And she'll mention it.  Again, again, and again.  But weren't we all a bit annoying when we were drunk?  

Thirty

I did it!  I reached 30 days sober.  It wasn't easy but it also wasn't too hard.  I think it's working this time because I'm older (and wiser?), the timing was right, and most important...I WANTED to quit.  

While I was tossing the idea around to quit when I did or wait until later, I had to weigh my options.  What do I do when my daughter and her husband come home in March to visit?  I'll have to drink with them.  I've been saving that lovely bottle of red from their wedding reception to celebrate.  What about this summer?  How will I spend time on the lake with Mr. Stitches and our friends without drinking?  How will I grill out without a drink in my hand?  What about the trip we are planning to California in September?  Surely I can wait to quit after that.  There was always a reason to put it off, but there was a reason to quit now and not wait..Me. Myself, and I.  I'm glad I chose "us" instead of booze.

I'm sleeping better.  I'm not puffy and gross.  I've lost 4 pounds.  I feel great when I work out.  I'm less stressed and more focused.  Mr. Stitches and I are getting along.  I remember phone conversations after 6pm.  I'm not mean.  I, I, I, I, I...  Sound selfish?  Yes, but it's a good selfish.  I'm putting myself first for a change instead of putting booze first.  I've learned that I'm stronger than I thought I was.  I'm still fun.  I like the booze free me.  I hope to keep her as my new best friend.

Made it!

Well I made it through Saturday evening with our drinking friends without a hitch!  It was actually kind of normal.  When Mrs. Drinker asked what I was drinking I told her just some seltzer, cuz I'm off the booze for a bit.  I was drinking too much and wanted to see if I could stop.  While the guys were outside grilling my husband told Mr. Drinker that it had been 25 days.  He was impressed.  Asked me what I missed most.  I told him the routine...the habit of it more than anything, and that's the truth.  If I get that "I NEED something" feeling I grab a flavored seltzer instead.  For me it's very important to have something special in the house for when that feeling pops up.  I don't drink seltzer for breakfast or while I'm home from work for lunch because I never drank booze then.  For me this works. 

Mrs. Drinker is a tiny bit of a lady and was drinking my favorite Kendall Jackson Chardonnay.  She drank most of the bottle and was rather tipsy by the end of the night, she hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast either.  It was kind of hard to have a conversation with her.  I wondered when both of us were drinking together if we were really having conversations or if we were having strangely incoherent albeit understood by both of us discussions on nothing in particular.  Hmm.

Getting REAL

Today is very cloudy, damp and grey.  Luckily the outside doesn't match my insides.  It's Friday with a week of accomplishments both at work and home under my belt.  Day 24 and all is well.  

Tomorrow evening we are having friends over for dinner and to watch college basketball.  These will be our "drinking" friends and this will be the first time I will be "coming out" to someone other than my husband.  I'm not worried that I will relapse.  I'm not worried they will stop being my friends because I'm going sober.  I'm not really worried about anything, just thinking about it makes me feel a bit nervous. 

You see, I haven't told anyone "real" except my husband.  I've been very open here in blog world and at Booze Free Brigade but not in face-to-face "real" life.  I had been sober for 11 days when I told my husband and that was because I had to.  We were out of town and he asked if we should pick up some beer or wine for the get-together later that night at the hotel.  I told him to get what he wanted because I wasn't going to drink for a while.  "How long," he asked.  "I'm not sure," I replied (I knew then that it NEEDS to be forever), "but I brought some seltzer for the get-together."  "So I shouldn't stop for wine?"  "No, no thank you.  I'm fine.  But please get whatever you want."  He bought some beer but didn't end up having any.  It's still a full 12 pack and it's in the closet at home.  If I was still drinking that bad boy would have been long gone by now.  

I haven't told my kids either.  But of course they've heard that fairy tale before.  Our oldest daughter and her husband are coming for a visit next month.  The last time I quit I drank when I went to visit them.  At their wedding four months ago I was drinking, although I did behave myself, not wanting to be the sloppy drunk mother of the bride.  It was probably the only time in my drinking life that moderation worked.  This time when we get together Mommy will not fold/cave/jump off the wagon.  I hope they will respect my decision.  I hope she will be proud.

Scars

I have two scars on my face.  Both are the result of my drinking gone wrong.  

The first scar came to me freshman year of college.  After spending way too much time at the campus pub one night, I was walking through the dorm lobby and fell…landing on my chin.  I got up, said I was fine, and tried to continue to my room but the blood was gushing.  I ended up getting 11 stitches and a really big bandage.  Not a big deal.  I was in college, a “drinking” school to boot.  This wasn’t out of the norm.  I considered myself hard core.  Hell, now I had the scar to prove it!

Fast forward thirty-three years to September 2013.  My husband and I are attending the wedding and reception of the daughter of one of our “drinking” friends.  All the drinkers decide to meet at a bar before the ceremony to wish the parents well.  I only had one glass of wine.  It was a very generous serving, right up to the top.  After the ceremony we returned to the bar for another round…or two.  My husband and one of our friends left to switch cars around so I rode to the reception with some other people.  By the time he got to the reception I was drunk.  Not sure how drunk but it had to be pretty bad.  He became very angry with me and we left.  I have no recollection what I said or did but he was one pissed off guy.  He yelled at me on the drive home a few times.  I remember him asking if I needed him to pull over because I was notorious for puking.  No I didn’t.  I was “fine.”  When we pulled into the driveway he left the car.  I sat there waiting for him to calm down then I would go in.  When I got out of the car I realized I couldn’t walk very well.  I staggered and stumbled in my nice dress and heels.  As I was trying to navigate the two small steps to our front door, I missed and fell, landing on my face on the wood deck.  I finally made it into the house torn and bleeding.  My husband took one look at me and freaked out.  He blamed himself for leaving me in the car and not helping me in.  At least I could comprehend that it was my fault and in no way could he take any blame.  I did not go to the hospital that night.  Maybe stitches would have helped but I was not going to embarrass my husband and myself.  This time around being a hard-core drinker and having the scar to prove it wasn’t cool, it was sad and depressing.  A 50 year old drunk woman.  Gross!  I sobbed myself to sleep that night after promising my husband I would stop drinking.  And I did.  For thirteen days.  Then I started again.  Until January 29, 2014, when I decided it was time.  Time to quit drinking.  Time to stop the stupidity, the lying, the sneaking, the hiding, the self-hate and loathing.  So I did.  And here I am.  Sober.

My First Drunk Dream

Last night I had my first "drunk dream".  In the dream I had gone to some sort of party and drank a lot and blacked out. In the dream I was then awake and was questioned by people (unknown by me) where I had disappeared to and what on earth had I done.  I woke up then, for real, and was very scared.  Good grief!  What had I done!  Oh, it was a dream.  Thank goodness!  No you didn't drink!  No your mouth doesn't feel or taste like the inside of a dumpster (just speculating a bit there) and you are still sober.  Good for you!  Now get out of bed, get your coffee and muffin and start day 19! 

yum!