It’s 12 below zero this morning, there’s about a foot and a half of snow on the ground. I’m sitting with Ralph the Dog in front of a fire drinking coffee with crack ( salted caramel mocha creamer is my definition of what crack must be like.). Today is a good day. Yesterday was a Chinese fire drill! I had a couple drinking thoughts.
I’m at 163 days, I don’t really have cravings anymore, even though there is wine in the house. Husband #1 only made it about 2 days abstaining. (If he knew I said Husband #1 he’d kill me. We will be married 36 years in September so I doubt there would ever be a Husband #2, hmmm, well maybe if I had my neck done and a boob job!) I digress. I’m extremely grateful for no cravings. I haven’t had cravings in what seems like months. But, yesterday, I had some thoughts, more than once I had some thoughts. I would have to say the difference between cravings and thoughts is that I have absolutely no desire to act on thoughts. When I first got sober and had cravings I had to bear down to beat the cravings, get out, take a bath, go for a walk, I don’t have to do that with thoughts.
My daughter got stuck down state visiting a friend on Sat. Do you think at 31 years old she’d listen to a weather report? Nah. So in the snow on Sunday I picked up my 2 other granddaughters, age 3 and 11 months, Jillian and Sydney. I’ve written about Gracie, she belongs to my son. Anyway, I picked them up so my son-in-law could work on Monday because there was no way Emily could drive home in the storm. Long story short, the girls are wonderful, but a lot of work. I thought I would have Grace on Monday too, but my daughter-in-law’s work was cancelled. Dodged a bullet there. My daughter, rather than spending another day away from her children, decided to take the train home. A 1 hr 45 minute train ride took 5 hours and 45 minutes as the switches were frozen and the doors on the train would freeze open and closed. The 3 year old spent the two days watching Disney, Sprout and PBS, if I hear the Cat in the Hat theme song again I will scream; playing apps on the iPad and talking non-stop about the movie Frozen. The 11 month old, thank you God, slept a lot, but when awake crawled only to the electric outlets and the kitchen appliances. Told you it was a young girls game.
So the stage is set, sorry for the rant. While vacuuming cheerios and cheese off the floor I had thoughts about a glass of wine and how after the first sip the warmth would spread though my veins and how that would feel, relaxing, comforting, indulgent. Shit. I hate that beast that lives in a tiny part of my head. I’ve got him pushed into a corner, but I think, no I know, he will live there forever. I had these thoughts at least twice yesterday and I was totally pissed at myself for having them. I know I couldn’t help it, I have the curse. But I can be pissed off all the same. I especially was mad about the warmth spreading through veins feeling. I didn’t have time (wonder why!) to think about them then, but I do now. No grandchildren today, just me and Ralph the Dog. Husband #1 is in his office at the front of the house.
Spreading through the veins and feeling relaxed is just romanticizing the fact that I am addicted to alcohol. Normies don’t experience that. It’s because my liver and brain are addicted. I could say I wasn’t physically addicted when I quit drinking but that would be bullshit. I had night sweats, not related to menopause, that’s over and done with. That was my liver talking. I told you about my red blood count, which has dropped some by the way, not a lot but some. So it’s not fucking romantic at all, it’s another way “the beast inside my brain” or as some say “wolfie” tried to get out of the time out in the corner and into the room. He wanted to screw with my health and my mental well being, bastard. He’s not getting anymore space in my brain or my life. I don’t ever want to start over again. I simply can’t bear the thought of a day 1. I just can’t. The thought of another day 1, or 2 just makes me crazy. Spit on that beast.
It was funny that last night, Husband #1 again said how proud he is of my sobriety, how much more he loves that Sharon is back. I didn’t let him in on my thoughts last night. Though I do share most of my new sometimes raw sober feelings with him. He also thinks he’s worthless cause he hasn’t even been able to do a 30 day challenge. But since he ONLY drinks for 2 hours every night, he’s not ready to commit. That’s another topic all together. The point of this ridiculous rambling is that I have to learn to accept that I’m going to have thoughts for, well forever. At age 62, I’m hoping that’s at least 30 more years or so (hands together in prayer mode right now). Hooray that they are thoughts and not cravings, hooray that it’s not romantic anymore, I can see and remember it was a nightmare. Keep that beast in the corner where he belongs. Life is so good with all the extra space in the room. I don’t want to say all the extra space in my head, you might think I was blonde. Sorry, couldn’t resist.