I have not written much about the hard parts of my new sobriety, because I didn't wanted to turn this weblog into a weblog about alcoholism. I didn't want to whine. I didn't want to sound sad. I would prefer to leave you smiling than sad.
While doing that, though, I have done myself a disservice, if this is to be a record for my future self, which it is. It is also a disservice to you, if you happen to be invested in this journey of mine, whether you are an alcoholic, are practicing sobriety, or you just give a good goddamn, because it is not only a journey of happy self-discovery and quiet reflection, not if I'm being honest.
It is sometimes hard. Sometimes, it is the kind of hard that I just want to stop doing:
I won't stop being sober, though. I will not stop. I need sobriety. It has become a part of my will to live. I would rather go through the periods of struggle and anxiety and teeth-grinding so that I can have the parts where I remember things and take care of myself and enjoy being awake and have the full spectrum of emotions and thoughts than spend half my life either drunk or recovering from being drunk and forgetting and wondering if this is how my life is going to be until I die, a long line of nearly identical and mostly meaningless events strung together by fatalism and hangovers.
Mid-life crises should be sexier events.
This one's screwing with my complexion, the constitution of my bowels, and the frequency of my crying jags. We should glow like we're giving birth to giant, self-aware manifestations of our true selves. I should have lustrous hair and the chub of fruition.
Instead, I feel like I was handed a consolation prize of one of those cheap spinning toys that makes sparks while also being given the bum's rush out the exit door.
You shouldn't listen to me. I'm feeling pissy.
Still, I'm here. I'm here at the end of writing this all down. I'm here, and I've arrived at two months sober.
This is what it is, what I'm trying to learn: to ride out all the worst shit because it is my ticket to all the freedom I feel in between all the worst shit. And I just did it again.
I rode it out. I bought my freedom.
There's nothing more, I guess. It's midnight, and I'm tired, and I did it. I made it through, so now it's time for some chocolate ice cream, my
Thank you for seeing me through these first two months. Sleep tight.