sojourn to sober

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy BIRTHDAY DEAR MEEEEEE, happy birthday to me. Welcome to my first sober birthday. I was up at 5 am, off to the hospital and worked all day. It seemed like every single person who wished me a joyful spin around the sun told me wanted to know what I was going to drink to celebrate. Uhhhh, well, random person, my plan was to start with grapefruit Perrier and then switch to Sleepytime tea and be asleep by 9:30. Woot woot! I really didn't feel like it, but I decided that since I had a rare evening alone in the house tonight (DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!), I probably should go to a meeting. I don't really have a usual Thursday meeting, so I used my app to find one nearby. It turned out to be a women's meeting in a small church basement 15 minutes from my house. There were about 12 women seated around the table and honestly, many of them looked pretty rough. It smelled like rotting trash and stale cigarette smoke and I had forgotten ...

Fast forward through the last week of work, meetings, parenting, adulting, sleeping, eating and reading every alcoholic to sober memoir I can get my hands on. I've been on the "pink cloud", as they call it in AA. I don't want a drink! I am starting to feel better! I feel free! My skin is less puffy! Then, on the way to my favorite meeting tonight, the 13yo and I have to stop for her Spanish class parent-teacher conference. I get the news: she's failing the class. Oh. In her defense, she struggles with learning and this is an advanced class. But as I sit there, listening to her kind teacher show me homework assignment after assignment that she simply has not completed and therefore has thwarted her ability to pass the class, I feel the old twinge rising. Twinge isn't the right word. Rage. Teeth-clenching, chest-tightening, eye-twitching rage. Rage at her for telling me she's been doing her homework. Rage at myself for a. believing her and b. being a shitt...

I went to another meeting tonight. I was oddly excited to go. It kind of feels like a release to be around other people who understand this monster inside of us and listen their stories. I mostly listened, but I did raise my hand at the beginning to signal that it was my first time at this meeting and   told them I was 9 days sober. Everyone clapped. They talked about the fourth step and having faith. Afterward, more ladies came up to introduce themselves and give me their numbers. One crazy-eyed lady with a proclaimed three months of sobriety talked to me at length about all the next steps i needed to take and all these great women's meetings around lunchtime most days of the week. I smiled and nodded politely, thinking "Who the fuck has time to go to an hour long meeting during lunch every day?" In her defense, she was just being kind and inclusive. It was me that was already putting up walls so I didn't start ugly-crying in front of everyone and asking when I would...

I think it's time to go to a meeting. I tried a few, many years ago during one of my failed attempts to stop drinking. I wasn't impressed. It seemed like a bunch of weathered people who had destroyed their lives and were just throwing around jargon and telling stories of the glory days. Clearly, I wasn't ready to accept that the point of AA was to fix ME, not them. It was time to take responsibility for my own life and choices. So, I found a meeting nearby, asked my parents to watch the kids and headed out in the early evening. The meeting was in a local church in one of their side rooms. There were about 12 people in the room, mostly white men and a few women. For the most part, they were all conversing with each other, some joking and laughing, others deep in conversation. Promptly at 7pm, the leader started the meeting and a few members took terms reading the mantras and steps. I just sort of sat stiffly in my corner and listened. Then they went around asking for lengt...

Busy day with housework and the kids was a good distraction. Several times, my usual thoughts of "I can't wait until I can make my first drink!" popped into my head, but I pushed them away and stayed busy. I've made it a week. I'm by no means living blissfully, but my wobbly sobriety legs are starting to feel more steady. More tea, yeah, more tea and then off to bed. I haven't thrown up in a week and I had a cup of coffee this morning and I didn't have any jitters. Progress, I guess?

I don't really even remember the last two days. I pretty much went to work, came home, did basic parenting and adulting, went to bed, woke up and repeat. Today was my meeting with the counselor guy. I chain-Juuled all the way there, chugging grapefruit seltzer waters. Are those like the drink of choice for ex-boozers, by the way? The office was a in a gentrified brick building downtown with a chic urban esthetic feel. The receptionist promptly took me back to his office and right off the bat, I relayed my story and what I was trying to accomplish. I had this fantasy that a team of social workers, counselors and psychiatrists would show up, put me on some meds, find me a specialized counselor and tell me that if I hadn't gone into withdrawal by now, I would be totally fine going to a few meetings and seeing a counselor once a week. Not so much. The counselor guy told me that my long term drinking habit made me high risk for relapse and recommended inpatient or intensive ou...

I'm white-knuckling it through the week. I can't believe how tired and flat I feel. I told a girlfriend and she was supportive in the way that people who "don't care for the taste of alcohol" but are extremely kind and empathetic tend to be. I was so grateful for her graciousness and offer of support but I had no idea how to answer when she asked if there was anything she could do.