3 YEARS

Well, 3 years is a pretty f…ing  big deal. But yet it’s a normal way of life now. It’s my new normal and I like it just fine.  I’m 3 years older but better, skin looks good, I’m super healthy, no meds, I eat really well (just made this awesome hot fudge sauce, sugar’s still a problem), now that I don’t drink I can smell and taste food.  No anxiety, except about my pregnant DIL and mosquitoes and what the Olympics will bring back.  Exercise is easier or at least more enjoyable, sometimes.  Senses are definitely heightened when you stop numbing. Spiritually things are heightened also, sunrises feel more awesome, the full moon seems more brilliant than before. Life and love are more precious, some of that’s my age but not all.  Mornings filled with shame and regret are long gone. Nice.

The 3 years haven’t been all flowers and candy. It’s gotten lots easier to just say no but it was really hard in the beginning. I still remember the first week vividly, but, I don’t remember much about the next 30 or 60, just that things got better and I felt like a new person.  I am not new, I just shed the shitty skin to find the real me underneath.  I was there all along, hiding, being buried in fog and shame.  It was so good to burst free.

I’ve had some awesome treats over the 3 years, I’m the Queen of self care. Tea, cake, bubbles, candles, magazines, books, pedicures, you name it and I say yes, I’ve earned it! But when it comes to the soberversaries I’ve shared with family, a little.

Olive, my first year present is a constant joy and reminder what lots of love and a little training can do for us all. We share a special bond.  She doesn’t drink alcohol either. She behaves well in the house but really turns into a little devil when she’s unleashed.  We share that also, well, I don’t always behave well in the house.

At two years we had some extra hardwood floors added to the house and I love them too. Definitely an improvement for the house and our lives.  Kids and dogs seem to love to throw up or spill on carpet so the absence of those has made life lots easier. Just so happened we had them installed around year two. So why not think of it as my present. Beats a new teacup.

For three years we’re having the kitchen remodeled.  Timing is everything, it’s not for my soberversary but hey,  I’ll take it. Not a big remodel but cabinets and counters.  It’s really time, our cabinets have seen better days.  We actually had one fall off the wall a couple years ago (one too many cookbooks!)  That’s not just a treat for me but Husband#1 too.  He does almost all the cooking so he’ll enjoy it too.  He’s at 207+ days and still going. He got a new down pillow for a treat and sleeps like a baby. I’m very proud of him, love him even more. Things are really good with us right now. Nice.

So, at 3 years life is normal, ups and downs, laughter and tears, normal.  So much better than before, so much richer and fuller, more meaningful.  If you’re thinking about quitting, stop thinking and do it. What I’ve written above is the truth, things get better when you put down the glass. Just don’t drink today, I’m not.

You guys have been with me every step of the way and I thank you all for that.  Wouldn’t be here without you, love you all.  To my girlfriend in France, je t’aime. Onward to 4.

Sharon

My old self.

My baby

My daughter and son and the gifts they have given me.

Independence Day

I loved the first movie, heard the sequel sucks.  But I love those stupid kinds of movies, I loved the Die Hard movies and used Yippie-ki-yay, Motherfucker frequently.  Hmm, I think we should bring that back.

I live in a town where the 4th is a big deal.  Not because people are patriotic, but because it’s Ribfest, food, music and $8 cups of beer.  Any excuse to take your kids to a festival and get drunk.  What’s happening to us? I’m sure it’s just because I’m an old fart but …come on people.  Beer bottles thrown on the side of the road, along with firecrackers, trashbags full of empties tossed in the neighborhoods, 30 something moms all bleary eyed at 3 in the afternoon carrying toddlers and plastic cups of wine, bouncing to the live music. Breaks my heart. We’re not independent, we’re addicted. I fucking was, not at 30 but certainly by my 50’s. Booze makes you stupid, no doubt about it.

When I think of the holiday I think of the state of our country, my country, torn apart right now like the UK, the Leaves and the stays, the walls and the prejudice incited by “He who shall not be named”.  I don’t know who started that on cyberspace, but I love it.  Personally I think Fuckwad suits him better,but I have a potty mouth and I’m not afraid to use it.  I’m afraid for us and U.S. and all. What’s happening to us…come on people.  Hate doesn’t look good on anyone.

Enough of my pontificating, sorry, I just needed to vent. On a happier note.  Husband #1 hit 180 a couple days ago and is still going, though he hasn’t set another goal. We found out our 5th grandchild, due late October will be a girl, Eve.  That will be 5 grandbabies under the age of 6. I need new running shoes. My son is nuts, 3 little ones 3 and under,( must get his sex drive from his mother, ahem).  God bless them. God bless me cause I’ll keep the new one until she’s 6 months old and off to daycare. My poor grandson surrounded by estrogen, I’ll have to introduce him to Indiana Jones and Bruce Willlis movies at an early age. Yippee-Ki-yay, Grammy. My legacy when they’re older, I’m gone and they’re discussing Grammy. Remember her sweet hugs,love of dogs, her weird sneakers and her taste in sci fi and action flicks.

My Independence Day will be July 28, 3 years sober. Wow. It’s more like a birthday, a rebirth. I found me again 3 years ago. No looking back, life’s too full to let idiots bring me down.

We are all warriors together, the battle of the bottle and we are awesome. You know how I want to end this.  As John McClane said in Die Hard……

Sharon

 

The Ocean, Sun, Sand, Surf, Deer, Barking Foxes, and a very Weak Wolf with Orange Hair

Well, I am at the beautiful beach on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, Duck, North Carolina to be exact, named not after the bird but a guy who used to do a lot of duck hunting ( how charming, maybe, stupid, maybe.)  It’s fine if we stay in this area, but venture out to the grocery store or gas station and you see cars with pro Trump stickers and I throw up in my mouth each time. Guns, cigarettes and fuckwad Trump, what the hell has happened to America?  If any of you readers are Trump supporters stop reading my blog and go grow a brain. If I offended anyone from North Carolina, sorry, your Outer Banks are breathtaking.

Like any of you give two shits about my vacation, but I’m going to tell you anyway. We arrived June 4.  We are here for 3 weeks, Yep, three hot, sun scorched weeks at the beach. Pray that the sun block actually blocks those bad rays, I’ve already had plenty of things frozen by dermatologists off my old body, don’t want any more.

This is a pre-retirement trip. Husband #1 was planning to retire at end of year and the company has speeded up that process by 6 months so he’s in transition. It was difficult for him at first but he’s dealing with the whole “what am I going to do now” thing a little better and isn’t so stressed.  That’s due in part to the fact that he’s 162 days sober.  This is his first sober vacation, he committed to 180 and he keeps his commitments. (Whether he likes it or not, I think I told you we’re married 37 years😳)

The beast was hounding him the first night, making him cranky and nasty. He recognized what it was and overcame the urge.  We had driven 18 hours, had little sleep and junk food, the old H.A.L.T thing is a real, palpable trigger if you’re not careful.

As for me, the wolf has leaned over my shoulder a couple times trying to get me to romanticize what a cold glass of white wine would feel like. He forgets it would never be just one glass. If I follow where that one glass would lead, I would be missing out on my morning sunrises. I’ve never been especially religious, but seeing the sun rise over the ocean, watching dolphins feed almost close enough to touch and pelicans fly in formation over foaming water, well power of God, etc., etc.   No alcohol allowed.

Very early yesterday morning while I was outside with my dogs, (yes we brought those damn dogs 18 hours in a car to the beach,) I watched two deer chomp on some bushes in the front yard and slowly cross the driveway into the thicket. This morning a fox barked at me, scared the hell out of Olive, scary bark. It,too, was on the driveway.  Luckily, we have a fenced yard for the dogs. So I’m surrounded by wildlife and my little munchkins haven’t even arrived yet.

The kids and grandchildren arrive tomorrow and stay a week. Chaos, chaos and more chaos, they’ll be lots of laughter, lots of toddler tantrums and loads of hugs and kisses. I can’t wait. We’ll also need those last few days of our vacation to recover, so excellent planning on my part. There will be some beer and wine in the house for the big kids (kids..ages 37-32) my, my I’m old, mature, shit, I wish there was a better word for old, it sounds so..old.

That bastard, the wolf, who looks a lot like Donald Trump, will probably whisper occasionally in my ear, but I have the same response for him I’ve been using for 3 years come this July 28. Fuck off, moron.

Cheers from the beach.

 

Just like this.

Touch above to hear the fox, for those of you who’ve never heard a fox bark!

 

 

April 23, 2016

I wrote the following a couple days ago but now I have something else to add. On Friday I got one of the best. gifts. ever. I had a virtual  meetup with a fellow sober blogger from across the pond. ( where did that come from, it’s a fucking ocean people! ) Anyway it was wonderful to look at and talk with someone who’s been on this journey with me almost as long as I have.   It was like seeing an old friend and talking as if we did it everyday.  I admire  her writing, (she hardly ever swears), her intelligence, her compassion, her grit and determination. It made my day, week, and so on. Thank you sweet Prim, (https://takinganewpath.wordpress.com) for giving me a lovely gift. I’m toasting you with one of your nojitos and Twinings Earl Grey tea. Cheers.  She’s lovely, absolutely lovely inside and out.

 

Can you believe it? 1000 days. Amaze balls ( that’s for you Mrs. D). Freakin’ awesome. Don’t have enough adjectives to express how good it feels.  I’ll probably stop counting days now and just go to years. Woo hoo.  Who’d have thought?  1000 days ago sobriety was something I wished for, prayed for, and desperately desired.

I have never felt better. I’m eating a “fairly” healthy diet, not counting my daily mocha lattes. I’m exercising, the weather has finally turned to Spring here. I’m enjoying my husband, kids and grandchildren.  Number 5 grandchild is on the way. ( Now I have to worry for the next 6 months about those fucking mosquitoes making their way here) other than that I’m good. Really good.

Getting ready to start our veggie gardens. Keeping baby bunnies out of Olive’s way. She has an awfully strong prey instinct. She’s had two so far. Stupid. Fucking. Rabbits. (Literally)  Fenced yard and 2 Labrador retrievers and they still nest in the yard.  Death wish. Walked in the St. Patrick’s Day 5K, had a really good finish.  Started a cycling class in addition to my Pilates, at least until the weather gets better which may be August. Painfully spending an hour a day trying to clean the basement. I hate basements, spiders and the occasional mouse poop, Mickey better stay the fuck away from my basement, oh how I hate that. Still going to book club and still listening to audio books while I clean or run errands. Saw the musical Beautiful, AWESOME, of course that was when I was in my prime, back when I was a “Natural Woman” (did you know she wrote that! So cool.) Babysitting, dancing with little princesses and watching Disney Channel with the four of them ( I know the theme songs to too many of those damn shows)  That about sums it up.

That last paragraph, normal, just everyday mundane things. Normal. What a fabulous word.  I didn’t think I’d ever be just normal. From a lush to normal. How glorious to be living, just living everyday. No worries about 5 o’clock becoming 4:30, becoming 4 so I could start drinking.  Instead of my days being consumed with thinking about drinking and then drinking I’m now just living. It’s not the least bit boring, which is what a lot of people in early sobriety think.  It’s filled with all sorts of wonder. I notice everything now, the trees budding, my grandson figuring out how to walk, when someone needs a kind word, wondering when the moron down the street will shut his damn dog up. (I couldn’t go all nice on you, you’d think someone else was writing this, all Julie Andrews running through “the hills are alive” shit).  When I was in high school a very strange boy who sat in front of me in one class thought I looked just like Julie Andrews. Where the hell was I going with this? Oh yeah, and when I smile I mean it, not just going through the motion. I’m living.

I still use my sober toolbox. Listen to Belle’s One Minute Messages everyday.  I don’t want to let down my guard.  I’ve come too far.  So, even though life’s just normal I won’t forget how hard I worked to get here. 1000 days.

Bring on more treats, I’m worth it! I’m thinking two very expensive down pillows because crawling into bed should elicit the same ahhhhhh as having a massage at a spa. A pedicure, a new Fitbit ( because I want it to tell me how little sleep I get, like I don’t all ready know) the list goes on….

Doesn’t get any better than this.

We all need to sit and watch the world. It’s grand.

1000 days.  Fucking A!!! Now there’s a saying from the 70’s that has weathered  the test of time.  Just like me.

Groovy.😊 (Couldn’t resist)

Sharon

PS. Husband #1 is at 112 today. Wonder what he wants as a reward?😉

This Is So Hard

Hi All. I missed posting at 900 days, so here I am at 906, thank you very much. Already thinking about what reward I should ask for at 1000, gotta be something good.

Life is good, made it through the chaos of Christmas and the quiet of New Year’s, when you get to be my age life quiets down.  No parties, no nights out, we sort of cocoon, which is fine now.  When I was drinking it wasn’t so fine, it meant more time on the couch with wine.

Anyway, it’s about the title to my post. It’s probably influenced by the start of another year, the fucking frigid temps we’re experiencing right now (shouldn’t complain though, it hasn’t been a bad winter by Chicago standards), the grey skies, my grey hair (my decision, but…). I’ve been very contemplative lately. That’s a damn lie, I’ve been feeling sorry for myself. You see, this is a big birthday year for me. I’ll be sixty fucking five years old in September.  I know, I know, 9 months away and I’m dreading it already. I’ll be eligible for “senior” discounts, fuck that. It’s only a number. Right? Wrong. It’s reality, I might not look or act that old but I’m that old on the inside. Sucks, doesn’t it? Mished up had a great post recently that fit my mood perfectly.https://mishiam.wordpress.com. Don’t think I linked that right but you’ll find it.  Her post is very insightful and elegant.  I just want to bitch and moan.  My blog, my bitching. I developed a real potty month when I hit 60 and I won’t apologize for that, I like it, stress release. Still have to bite my tongue around the little ones but you’re all adults, sort of.

This might get a bit long and tedious and boring so if you want to leave now I won’t be offended.  That, too, is a damn lie. Need you all, I have since day 1 and that hasn’t changed.

Anyhoo, I don’t like this mortality shit.  David Bowie, 4 years older, Glenn Frey, 2 years. WTF. Granted they were ill and I’m healthy as a horse. (What the hell that means I’ll never know). I take NO medications, which I think is pretty damn good. Just vitamins, my BP is good, cholesterol is great, weight is good. But this age thingy is bothering my head.  Thank God I’m not drinking anymore.  If I was I would look and feel my age, my BP would be high, my cholesterol would read a false number because of what alcohol does. I’d probably be taking something for depression and I’d be drinking myself into deeper depression. Alcohol is EVIL. Anyone reading this now in your 50’s or 60’s STOP drinking now.  It will take you down so much faster than is necessary, just stop now. The outside and inside of you isn’t like it was when you were 40, no matter how you feel. Give it the fuck up now, not tomorrow or next Tuesday. Do something smart and good for yourself and stop now. Oh and if you’re younger, stop now so you make it to your 50’s or 60’s.

I’m done preaching. But one more thing, don’t tell me how lucky I am because my life is charmed.  I’ve been down the rabbit hole. Fought my way out. I feel like a little wallowing, it will end soon.

So since this is all about me, let’s get back to it.  It’s very hard to reconcile in your head that you’re going to be 65, Rod Stewart’s Forever Young is like an ear worm in my brain.  If my husband retires I could go on MEDICARE. Shit that’s for old people. It’s hard when your head thinks you’re 40 but you have arthritis in your back and a frozen shoulder.  I just push through, an Aleve every now and then and I’m good to go.  I’m active. Addicted to Pilates and my dogs and occasionally #1. He makes me feel young, I should throw more attention his way for that. Note to self.

I walk everywhere, even in this weather and I’ve become a mall walker with all the old people.  Good news is there’s a lot of stroller moms there pushing their babies around for exercise. I’ve even taken my grandchildren in strollers and walked there. ( Do you think I look good enough to be mistaken for their mom? Hell NO.) Not even in my skinny jeans, oh don’t be grossed out, I can wear them. I refuse to wear old baggy Mom jeans even if I do have a turkey neck. At least I don’t wear leggings without tunic tops, what’s with that. Women, no matter the age, should not wear leggings without a top that covers their ass. I digress.

All this to say this is a bitter pill to swallow.  Anyime the first digit rolls over is annoying, but this little 5 to the right of the 6 is a particularly tough one. I thought I felt mortal at 50, it was nothing like this. They’re dropping like flies around me and I don’t like it at all. I just started really really living again some 906 days ago. I’ve got a lot more to do in the next 30 or 40 years. So I best get started.

Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement…get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted.  Everything is phenomenal… Abraham Joshua Heschel

 

Me and my #1 (not very flattering of #1, stand up straight and suck in)

This one’s just for fun. See any resemblance.  That’s one of my babies and the little green guy is, well, know you do.

Just posting all this makes me feel better. Ciao.

Ahhh the Holidays!

EPILOGUE
I’m going to start at the end,all is well I’m sober 862 days and still counting. I know I’ll have a very Merry Christmas, my crystal ball shows it. The stockings are hung, the trees are up and cookie dough is made. It’s not even mid December and the shopping is done and the wrapping has started. Idyllic right? Ha, my ass.

Chapter One thru 32 . Thanksgiving
Sucked, Sucked. Sucked. The. Big. One.
There, I feel better already.

My stepmother and my niece and her two boys came to visit. My stepmother and the boys are great. My niece is a fucking reality show on stilts. Think Honey BooBoo mentality crossed with the fighting moms on Toddlers and Tiaras. Pushes away every time someone tries to throw her a lifeline.  I’m not going to go into the shitty details. But

Their visit was cut short by two days. ( see me jumping up and down cheering and sighing in relief.) Cut short because she was being evicted…again.  This time her dad and stepmom refused to bail her out. I don’t blame them, she’s 33 years old. She tries, sort of, works two jobs, takes care of the boys in the afternoon after school, until after dinner.  At which time they go to baby daddy’s house, he still lives at home at 35, because he still does drugs and can’t keep a job for long, she’s ok with it as long as it’s soft stuff. OMG. According to my niece, his parents are alcoholics, functioning, and I could tell from the way the boys clothes reeked that they’re heavy smokers, but they’re feeding and clothing the boys and getting them to school.

She lies, a lot, so it’s hard to know what things have been embellished.  She’s my sisters child.  My sister died at the ripe old age of 47 with some weird cancer.  We weren’t close, we traveled in entirely different circles. I was nine years older and got the hell out of our house and our town as soon as I could, went to college and never looked back, couldn’t look back and survive as well as I did. But, even my sister must be shaking her head thinking WTF is going on down there.

I used to help the niece with a little money but it either went to baby daddy or sometimes got stolen ( clearing my throat here ahem). Won’t do it anymore and her dad is done too, she’s got to stand on her own two feet.  She thinks and acts like she’s still 19.  My son and daughter tried teaching her boys that 1. You don’t call undershirts “wife beaters” (they’re 6 and 8) and their dad has hit their mom. And 2. You don’t say you’re going to use your Monopoly money to buy women.

What the fuck?

I’ve thought of calling child services myself, but I worry that they might be separated or that their situation would worsen, so…

All this bullshit and run on sentences are just so I could tell you I had one of the most stressful Turkey Day’s ever. Drinking crossed my mind several times.  While almost in tears in the kitchen I told my daughter if I was going to start drinking again this would be the day.  My skin crawled, reminding me of those early days getting sober when I wanted to jump out of my own skin, jittery, anxious. I didn’t drink, I hardly ate . I made tea. I feel guilty about not helping her more but at the same time she has to help herself.

You can have really trying days and still stay sober, because nothing, nothing is worse than Day 1. Almost 2 1/2 years and I still remember.

So, my almost charmed life isn’t always so charming . But, it’s over. Thank the Lord. I feel much better now that I’ve shared. It’s on your shoulders now, too. Happy days, until next year.

Maybe I’ll get #1 to take me out for dinner next year, in Fiji!

Now back to my favorite time of year. Especially since Santa is back in the house and hiding in my closet.  Too bad Santa doesn’t look like  this.

He can wear a red suit and wrap my presents any day and he’s in his mid 50’s . Nice.

Still lots to do, I haven’t seen the last Mockingjay yet, haven’t found my good mittens ( luckily it hasn’t been ass biting cold in Chicago.  Yet.), have to actually bake the cookies and thaw the truffles I made earlier. Yum. I do love the holidays, the good and the bad.  They make you appreciate your family, the good and the bad.

I promise to be back to my irreverent self next post.  Till then, ho ho ho.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Letter to You

Hello all😃

Hope this finds you all well and sober. I’m fine, better than fine, back from vacation. It was a good time, but…husband #1 made it to 166 and then had a couple beers, tsk tsk. He’s continuing now with those couple of beers, we shall see where it leads. We had beautiful weather for about 12 days, the last three were grey and gloomy so we headed home a day early. 17 hours in the car with one huge dog and one medium sized puppy.  They behaved better than I did. You know how once you’re on your way home you can’t wait to get there.  Well that’s me, the last couple hours take for……….ever! Anyway, no drinking pangs while on vacay, saw the sun rise over the ocean 11 mornings, sat on the sand with a cup of coffee, listened to the waves and watched the sun come up, fucking incredible.

It’s  good to be back too. Missed those four little munchkins of mine.

Are they not stunning, everyone of them? Poor baby boy, if he’s the last one he’ll have to grow into a bruiser to take on these three girls.

I feel like I don’t have much to say to you anymore. I’m sober, 813 days today, I’m tracking to 1000. I think about stopping the count and then I realize it’s one of my tools for staying this way so I’m going to continue.  Whatever works, you know. I’m still reading sober blogs, get depressed when someone falters, we’re all family you know.  It’s funny how close I feel to people I’ve never met. Kindred spirits, that was the best thing to come from Anne of Green Gables, kindred spirits. The Internet is a fucking awesome tool, I thank God each day for guiding me to it for the help I needed.

We had hard wood floors installed and others refinished while we were gone so I’m having  fun redecorating the house now.  I’m “attempting” to reupholster two living room chairs, this is the first time I’ve tried such a big DIY project but it seems to be going well. I’ll post a before and after later…maybe, we’ll see.

Olive is officially the littlest Labrador retriever we’ve ever had, definitely the runt of the litter and that makes her perfect for me. I can walk with her and not have my arm ripped out of its socket.  But I must admit it’s odd, all ours have been above average sized and I saw her parents so we were expecting a much bigger beast. She’s a joy for me and my gift after one year sober, she’s a constant reminder. I probably should have called her Alfree, oh well, too late now. She makes Ralph’s life pretty chaotic but he’s a good sport. He probably thinks “that fucking bitch has ruined my fun.” Wish dogs could talk. Or maybe not, Ralph and I were drinking buddies back in the day.

Well, there’s a snippet into my life these days, pretty above average I think, and yes I meant to say above. No heavy shame on my shoulders anymore. Hope I haven’t bored you. I won’t write very often, nothing much to say, but I’ll not delete the blog, just in case I need to brag or rant or swear.  I’ll leave you with some beach pictures so you can dream of warm, beige, lazy days.

All my love,

Sharon

This one was born the day before my 59th birthday, I was hungover at the hospital, how fucking horrendous was that, never ever again, so much waste. It still took me almost two years to get my shit together. But together I did get it and everything is so much more fun sober, it really is😃.

It’s a Little Bit Funny

…this feelin’ inside. I always seem to have a song in my head. Oh well.

This has next to nothing to do about drinking and everything to do with life, mine. I was out walking along the lovely Riverwalk in town, when I realized I have never felt more alive, present and well, real in all my almost 64 years.  I gotta tell you it’s age not just sobriety. It’s like a permanent pink cloud effect.  A friend of mine is two years older, I remember her telling me when she turned sixty she felt better and happier than she ever had (she’s a Normie).  I was still drinking then and remember thinking “you’re fucking 60 years old, are you crazy?”  Now, not only sober but coming up on my 64th birthday, I get it, totally. So if you’re 40 or 50, trust me, the best is yet to come.

There’s this sense of freedom and wonder, I can’t really put it into words. I look forward to every day, and the everyday mundane things. Walking with friends, I appreciate them more, can empathize more. I understand. I LISTEN. Freezing the mega ton of tomatoes we have this year has become a joy, not a dreaded chore. Even though Ralph the Dog and Olive the Puppy are pains in the ass, I love every active minute I have with them. My Fitbit steps are off the charts, I’m averaging 14,000 a day! Woo fucking Hoo! Can we say tight ass, oh yes we can. And I mean that in a good way.

I never thought aging could feel so good. Oh I have my aches and twinges. Can’t get fucking “Arthur Ritis” off my back, I guess he’s here for the next 30 years. Doc said he usually comes to visit (say your prayers) EVERYONE in their 40’s but only really bothers some. Well he’s bothering me, m…f…er. But, he’s not stopping me. Where was I, oh, everything is better, even sex. Yep people there is sex in the 60’s. Not to worry. Ladies you get passed that, the kids, the tired, the I don’t feel like it I don’t have the urge stuff and it’s great.  Better than before, more intimacy, more time, more touch, no rush. I’ve just ordered a couple books on better sex  in your 60’s. We’re headed to the Outer Banks again for 2 weeks mid September, those will be my beach reads, wink wink.

Anyway in a very long circuitous route I’m trying to tell you to not be afraid of the passing of time. It only gets better. 60 is the new 40, I am living proof.

Now for the drinking part. I wouldn’t be enjoying my walks, my chores and I wouldn’t even fucking remember sex (happened to me a few times, those lovely blackouts) if I was still drinking. I wouldn’t be healthy because my blood pressure was climbing, where were the bruises coming from (again those blackouts). I was constantly remorseful and a bitch. Oh I can still put my bitch on, but rightfully so now. You won’t grow old if you continue to drink, life stops and it becomes the next drink. Sucks, man, just sucks.

So, on September 24th I’ll be singing a Beatles tune, but the answer will be a resounding HELL YES!   I don’t think I did this video right but if you click in it you get it.

Before you listen, Huband #1 will hit 150 days on Friday. He’s not sure he’s happy about it but knows how disappointed I will be when he caves, stay tuned. He’s done great so far.

love you all, thanks for all the warm wishes for my two year post, don’t know that I’d be here without you all.

Sharon

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=eCss0kZXeyE

2 YEARS

Can you believe it? July 28, 2013 I had my last drink, make that my last bottle and 1/2 of wine. I didn’t plan on it being my last, it just happened. The middle of the night conversations were the same as always, the regret, the self-loathing, the shame. But that morning the feeling of desperation was still smothering me, such a weight to carry, I just knew I couldn’t bear it any longer. I found Jean (Unpickled) and Belle (Tired of Thinking about Not Drinking). Saved my life. Changed my life.

I had already played around with every type of moderation gimmick for years. So, I’ve never looked back, I’ve never slipped or relapsed. I can’t really say why, I certainly dealt with cravings and lots of temptation for sure. But I. Couldn’t. Face. Another. Day. 1. or 2 or 5 for that matter.  They were sooooo hard to get through. Husband #1 was out of the country, it would have been easy to cheat, but I couldn’t bear the thought of where I was headed. If I kept drinking I knew I would embarrass myself in front of my grandchildren, for God’s sake, my “grandchildren”. I wanted to be Sharon again. I had lost her in vats of Chardonnay somewhere in my 20-30 years of drinking. I didn’t drink because of a shitty childhood, though it was pretty shitty. I didn’t drink because of a lousy marriage or problem children. It just became a habit, like smoking, a nasty habit that grabbed me, drinking with dinner, then after, while watching  TV, trying to read (haha).  That turned into drinking alone at night when the house was dark and quiet. How fucking pathetic? Really, as often as my brain said you’re fucking pathetic, my arm put the glass to my lips. I’m sure there’s truth to the genetic theories, my mother had an additive personality and alcohol was among the list of things that ruled her life. But I can’t blame that or her, I chose to drink and now I’ve chosen to stop.

Ugh, what a horror ride through the tunnel of my drinking past. It’s necessary to relive it so you can remember why you’re here.

Maybe some of you thinking about stopping have that weight on your shoulders, I’m two years of proof it can be lifted and oh how light you will feel.

10 awesome things in 2 years

1. I like, love myself again and I am worthy of a whole lot of good shit! Rewards and bubble baths are still in my life.  I was always a good person (I think),  but I’m a better person now.

2. My relationships with family and friends are so much richer. I’m attentive instead of wanting to be alone with my poison. I actually listen to what people are saying.

3. I’m tons healthier.  I exercise regularly.  My blood pressure dropped significantly, all by itself.

4. My skin looks pretty good for an old broad and my gray hair is now an ashy blonde. Not something I learned, just an observation.

5. I find joy in places I had forgotten to look. How green spring is, how birds sing early, early in the morning. How much I love to walk, especially with friends. How fucking cold Chicago can get,. I think alcohol falsely insulates you, then you pass out in a snowdrift and die! Alcohol is evil. Sorry, I digress.

6. The witching hour is a thing of the past.  It’s rare that I feel the need for tonic and lime or NA wine between 5-7pm.  That was a surprise. I thought I’d always need a replacement in hand because so much of my drinking was ritual.

7. Sober blogs rock.  I’m still reading sober blogs, though I’ve gone from reading 15-20 a day to having just 3-4 in my email. Most of those I read are people that started along with or soon after I started my journey. I grieved when a few stopped writing. And I got pissed when some started drinking again. I had to learn that it’s their issue and doesn’t mean I’m going to succumb too.

8.Life is a gift, don’t fuck it up. Life is good, everyday with clear eyes and a clear head is a gift. Every morning I’m grateful to the Big Guy or Gal ( I’ve been leaning more toward a female God lately) for helping me. I fell on my knees the day I decided to stop and asked for all the help he/she could send me. She answered, sent me lots of lovely and handsome Internet Angels to guide me along. Sometimes the Internet can be a very good thing. You all held me up and kept me going. Still keep me going.

9. I also learned that swearing again like I did before kids made me feel frickin good.  Any sort of tension release is good. Husband #1 was and is happy about that. Wink,wink. You know you can take the girl out of the 70’s but you can’t take the 70’s out of the girl. Old Hippie here.

10. The most important tool I used against alcohol was Attitude with a capital A. Developing a kick ass attitude helped me through some rocky times. I am strong , I am invincible, I am… OMG I’m so old I’m quoting Helen Reddy! How bout Katie Perry and you’re gonna hear me roaaarr! Anyway, Sherry, the Queen of the Motherfucking Ninja Warriors, helped me along with that attitude and remains an inspiration today. I kicked that frickin wolf to the curb. He’s still lying out there, but he’s down and in the gutter. I’d like him to stay down for a very long time.

So.

I pledge to you all I will remain alcohol free for another 365 days ( I’d say forever and it will be but I do better with smaller goals.) I expect you to hold me accountable and get up in my face if I sound whimpy at some point. Deal?

Enough already, Sharon, long and borrrrring. Yawn.

😃 Onward to year 3.

* update, Husband #1 is at 119 days, that makes me happy, too. Don’t know when he’ll imbibe again, he says he will, but he’s done an awesome job so far. Wink, wink.

Oh, one more thing. 63 is the new 42, it’s true, it has to be.  I read it in an AARP magazine.

Sharon

June 28, 2015

700 days! TA DA!!!