Things are good. Life is good. Being sober is good, no better than good. No shame, no fuzzy head until 11 every morning. No wondering what I said or did. Did I text, did I call someone? Some mornings I knew Husband #1 was mad at me but I hadn’t a clue why.
I don’t know why I was able to do it this time. I’m at 233 days, I know it’s early but I really don’t want a drink anymore. Oh, sure, I want the ceremony, the props, but I don’t want the buzz, because after the initial warmth comes the shame, the regret, the self hatred.
I read your blogs everyday and I cheer for the victories and cry for the defeats. It keeps me strong and focused and humble. But I sometimes feel bad that I’m feeling so good. I know that’s stupid but I sometimes wonder why me, why this time. That said, I am frickin 62 years old, it’s about damn time.
Sherry says she’s feeling happy and scared at sobermomwrites.wordpress.com ( I can not get those fucking links to work on my iPad!!). I feel the same way. Things are going so well that I’m a little nervous.
Oh nothing’s perfect. I still argue a lot with #1 about his drinking or I don’t mention it and then we feel a distance between us. I still have those 8 pounds to lose. I’ll probably come in last in the March Madness Pool. And the snow has finally melted so Ralph the Dog tracks in MUD MUD MUD. I’ve been totally exhausted lately. Falling into bed. I’m kind of “Grammyed” out. I’ve been doing a lot of babysitting in addition to my three days with Grace. I’m painting my daughters kitchen cabinets, which is a really big job (I’m the family Ms. Fixit) and I’m trying to eke out a little time for #1 and for myself. But it’s a good tired. A productive tired. A sober tired.
Things are good. Life is good. Being sober is good, no better than good. I am so beyond grateful.