sobriety
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28222
It‘s funny to me that we are finished with two months of the ‘new’ year.
Two months. One sixth. Not an insignificant amount of time.
It makes me think about how we each choose to spend our time. I was reading today about the wonder that comes back into your life after quitting drinking. The wonder and excitement and fun of experiencing life – the things we all found interesting as children become interesting again. Life seems miraculous and wondrous and beautiful and amazing and incredible. Because we’re paying attention. Because we aren’t clouding our thoughts with alcohol – numbing the pain and running from the truth. We are, instead, marinating in it all.
It’s been nearly two years of a pandemic. Several days ago the first ground war in nearly eighty years began in Europe. Life feels heavy and very difficult to navigate and yet we MUST still exist and live.
Time is a funny, trippy thing.
Xo, g
31122
As I’ve written about in the past, the new year always finds me searching to grow, to molt my old skin and start anew. Often it comes in the form of “self-help” books, philosophy, yoga … Anything that pushes me out of my comfort zone and forces me to expand my mind (& in turn, how I think about things).
Sometimes I could talk about this for hours, but this year feels different – like I’ve molted a layer deeper, and am learning to stop and contemplate before speaking. I’m currently reading “Quit Like a Woman” (among other titles, but this currently & primarily) and what I am loving and finding so fascinating is that it isn’t really about quitting at all. It’s about learning to heal, learning to find grounding and truth and love. (I’m only halfway through so I reserve the right to be wrong about this! But it’s my impression thus far).
It’s definitely educating, and I’ve learned a lot about alcohol, its place in our society, its marketing plus its place and eminence throughout history. But mostly, as the book turned its first corner, I began to learn to see in myself the strength and the curiosity I have needed and called upon to begin to heal myself.
**
Tonight, as we watched the first press conference with the NY Giants newly appointed head coach Brian Daboll, I heard in his words some of the things I’ve begun to learn about truth and humanity. Brian Daboll, as journalists ranging from professional and polite to downright snarky asked some truly leading questions, maintained his message. And his message was simple — it’s about relationships, a shared vision, communication and authenticity.
These are not revolutionary themes. They are timeless. I felt a kinship to Mr. Daboll and he earned a ton of my respect for his openness, his honestly and his commitment to his message.
I love these moments, when things in my life dovetail together – when for a moment I glimpse the bigger, connected, energetic picture.
Xox, g
29jan22
As of today, I haven’t had an alcoholic drink in 775 days.
There’s a time in my life when I would find that absolutely insane. I worked in the restaurant industry, I was of Italian descent — wine was in my blood.
But the older I got, and the more disenchanted I became with how alcohol made me feel (honestly, this was a journey with John, so how it made us feel) the less I wanted to drink it. We’d do sober months, give up drinking for Lent … all kinds of things that allowed us to not drink, but also didn’t make anyone else feel uncomfortable about our non-drinking.
I don’t remember exactly what the final straw was, but we both gave up drinking one September. And then a few months later I broke and had a glass of wine while out at dinner with my Dad on a football weekend. I didn’t like that it seemed to make him uncomfortable that we weren’t drinking and I’m nothing if not a Daddy’s girl. Besides, I loved wine.
I had one glass and felt awful. Not mentally, but physically awful. After one glass. One harmless glass of wine.
It was about six weeks later that I once again hung up my drinking glasses (or whatever the appropriate object would be in this metaphor) for good. I stopped drinking full stop four days after my fortieth birthday.
It’s funny to walk through life as a non-drinker but not an alcoholic. It triggers people, leads to some awkward and uncomfortable conversations and forever changes relationships. I had girlfriends who made wild and hilarious proclamations about their drinking – to illustrate their superiority to me? To justify their clearly unhealthy relationship to alcohol? I don’t know.
My choice to be a non-drinker doesn’t have anything to do with anyone but myself. I feel better. My life is better. I also don’t judge anyone else. Everyone can and should make their own life choices, and we are taught young and it is reinforced often, that drinking responsibility is an integral part of life. Of adulting.
Right now I’m reading “Quit Like a Woman” by Holly Whitaker. It’s amazingly informative. So perhaps expect blog posts about not drinking until I finish. 😊
xox, g
Day 343
Per Dr. M’s instructions, I spent today doing nothing (I knew – despite a long, long To Do list, that I was exhausted). I messed around with photos on the internet. I drank a delicious soy chai. I watched the first two episodes of “And Just Like That.”
And then I found myself staring at the ceiling in my gym, not quite paying attention to a Peloton guided meditation while testing out my new infrared sauna blanket.
PS. I know that whole last sentence is ridiculous. In fact, I thought about it while lying there.
As I lay there, trying desperately to listen to Anna Greenberg’s instructions to tense and release all the muscles in my body, I thought about what a weird wacky road I’ve been on. I’d say the last nine years or so, but it’s really just life. Not just MS.
There was a moment in my life that I was so broke I was crashing at a friend’s apartment, eating her peanut butter out of a jar and making biscuits with Bisquick and water (things readily available to me that cost zero dollars). I remember spending my last five bucks on a pack of Parliament Lights and going to a bar where I knew the bartender so I could get a drink. I ate fast food or whatever I could scrounge at the restaurant (I never worked anywhere with staff meals, but man that would have been nice). I slept odd hours if I slept at all. I had shitty friends and dated shitty guys. I mean, if you could call it dating. Or friends.
Today I have an infrared sauna blanket, a Peloton, a full fridge and a plethora of NA beverages (because I quit drinking almost two years ago and smoking many many years before that). I sleep 7-9 hours a night and drink massive amounts of water. And green smoothies. With things like spirulina in them.
It’s a far cry from that lost twenty-something.
When I think about it, I often wonder how I got to where I am now. I wonder how I didn’t lose my way completely and fulfill all the expectations of the little rich American girl. (I never thought I was rich. My parents would balk at that description. But as a nearly 42-year-old I can say quite plainly that I grew up really well and my life was very different from many many other lives from age zero to about eighteen. And my life today is very nice and we live very well. The difference? John + I earned this stuff. It makes it feel different somehow). How did I end up figuring it out when I felt completely lost most of the time …. Truth? I couldn’t tell you.
Anyway. Back to the infrared sauna blanket.
It’s a funny thing to just keep hoping that something will be *the* something. The discovery that makes the aches and stiffness of MS go away. The something that makes having MS less hard. I keep searching and trying and getting discouraged but trying again. Because if I stop trying then I’ve given up, right? And the MS will never go away. So I have to keep trying. I have to keep doing all sorts of odd things that other people swear are their saviors. I have to keep trying things like infrared sauna blankets.
Because otherwise, it’s over. And I don’t want it to be over. I don’t ever want to admit defeat to MS.
Anyway. I’m all over the place. I told you I was tired.
Xox, g
nine weeks
Nine weeks ago today, I decided to stop drinking.
I didn’t necessarily think I was an alcoholic with a destructive addiction. But I did think that maybe, I wasn’t my best self when I was drinking alcohol. And maybe I drank too often and when I did, too much. And maybe I needed to get that under control.
Y’know how in life, you hear certain things, and you don’t hear other things? And the things that you hear are usually the things that ring true for you, the things you can get behind and believe? Well, way back in 2016 a man came to speak to the upper management of the company I worked for. He talked to us about culture, and creating a positive environment. He talked about a lot of things I can speak about in theory. But one thing he said — the thing that stuck with me and I have encorporated into my life — was a concept about habit.
Most people believe that it takes 21 days to create a new habit, or break a ‘bad’ one. This man said no, 21 wasn’t the lucky number. That in order to truly create new patterns and new thought behavior, you needed to commit to something for 66 days. Now, to be fair, I poo-poo’ed a lot of what he said, because I thought that at the time, we didn’t need to be having seminars about culture and vision statements — we needed to tighten up systems and control our cash flow more effectively. But that’s neither here nor there.
I put his theory of 66 days to the test when I decided to start riding the stationary bike that had — for several months — been collecting dust in our spare room. I began riding every day on March 1, 2016. And today, November 3, 2019, I still ride the bike most days. Because those 66 days DID create a habit. So, I’m a believer. And I put that concept to work every time I want to change something in my life. I commit for 66 days.
To be honest, I should have waited until Wednesday to write this. On Wednesday it will be 66 days since I stopped drinking. But the change really begins to be noticeable around the 50-55 day mark. It’s almost as though your whole body, your whole brain, kinda gives into this new ‘normal’ and it stops being an effort, and it stops being strange, and it just becomes who you are.
I really like being sober. And sometimes, it isn’t easy. When people think you aren’t honoring a situation or occasion because you are not raising a glass in a toast. When you realize that you don’t know what to do with your friends because all you’ve ever done is socially drink. When you ponder what you will do on vacation when all the guidebooks talk about is drinking. When you become truly concerned that all your friendships will change … or fade away. Just because you don’t drink alcohol anymore. It’s grounding. But … still, I really like being sober.
I like being clear-headed. I like sleeping well. I like having energy (always a challenge with MS). I like not worrying that I said or did something offensive or stupid or just … ill-advised. I like being able to drive home at the end of the night.
I like most things about sobriety. But culturally, socially, it’s hard. As each day goes by, it gets easier to handle. I feel more confident. I own it more. I realize that I could probably drink again and have a lot more control … but do I want to?
It’s an interesting question.
xox, g
D5 Creation