Moving Forward and Moving On

I think my little happy pill is finally kicking in.  Yesterday was nothing short of peaceful.  Joyous.  Humble.  I drank more than I wanted to Thursday night and woke up a bit off with a bit of an anxious edge thrown in for good measure.  And I thought to myself, "I'll get Shaun off to school then get home and back into bed for the morning."  But then a smaller voice, my own voice without a doubt, whispered, "Or you can take Shaun to Starbucks for a coffee and a breakfast sandwich, have an extra few minutes to talk with your son, get him to school, and get home for some house cleaning and job hunting."  The more I paused to hear that beautiful voice, the louder she grew.  Shaun and I did have a wonderful morning and chatted about all things music and the new guitar amp he had ordered.  Then the strangest thing happened; he let me drop him off right in front of his first period building and  he said, "I love you, too, Mom," when he got out of the car.  Well, that right there set my mood for the day.  The job hunting didn't happen yesterday morning, but my house was sparkling clean by 10am.  That's when I noticed a new feeling.  The feeling of absence.  There wasn't the strong feeling to drink.  I was looking forward to a glass of wine in the evening while watching a show, but that's it.  I wanted to enjoy the glass of wine, not crave a second one before finishing the first.  I didn't want one of Craig's high octane beers, or three.  I didn't want any of it.  What I wanted was the ritual and I wanted the ritual to stay humble, not over the top, not ferocious, not all-consuming.  I wanted it to feel special and quiet.  Yes, I know I'm still glamorizing alcohol, but I'd say that was a major step in the right direction.  And the kicker?  After a couple of sips of wine, I didn't enjoy it.  Did I finish it anyway?  Yes.  Was I looking forward to finishing it so I could move onto my cup of tea?  100%.  I'm a work in progress and I'm happy withe the progress.

My goal is to get to no more than 3 drinks per day with at least two alcohol free days per week.  I know, we've all heard it before.  Even the angsty teen that's still alive and well in me is rolling her eyes.  But I'm on a journey and I don't have the strength to fight or struggle.  I'm focusing on reduction right now.  I also know that the less I drink the less I crave so the AF days will come easier.  My husband's 96 year old grandmother gave me a $50 gift card to Total Wine for Christmas.  Last night I spent $49.78 on four different types of near-beers.  I can't wait to give them all a try!  That is new, too.  The excitement of freedom.  Freedom to try AF beers without the feeling of deprivation.  While in the big box booze store,  I walked past the beer aisles straight to the AF section.  No thoughts of deprivation, only excitement and pride and a buzzing feeling of light and free.  I even helped my husband pick out a variety pack of full- octane IPA's from a brewery we like up in Flagstaff.  And I thought to myself, "Well, I can try one if I want. I don't need to go overboard anymore.  I don't want to go overboard anymore."  

After Shaun's appointment yesterday, we all went to Buono's for a slice of pizza.  The place smells like New York, and with the accents flying around the kitchen, it sounds like New York.  It feels like home.  I had no desire to have a beer.  What I did have a desire for was to be 100% present and I was.  Chatting with Craig and Shaun, eavesdropping on the conversations around us (it's my special little talent), taking in the sights and sounds and smells.  It wasn't a muted experience.  It was alive.  It filled me up with excitement of families running in and out for their Friday night pizza.  The few couples and families with the their toddlers sitting at one of the six little tables.  The sun setting outside into the oranges and pinks of the desert sky.  I felt alive.  I felt a part of something bigger.  Then it hit me; the strange feeling I had been experiencing all day was the feeling of depression lifting.  The anxiety is still there a bit, but I can negotiate with the bitch.  This feeling... I can't explain it.  I felt like the old me, maybe the old me as far back as a young adult.  The feeling of being safe and of being loved and being exactly where I am.  The feeling of being HOME.  Why the fuck would I want to numb this true and pure feeling with beer?  So yes, I think after 8 weeks, I'm catching a glimmer of what life is like when the antidepressant is in full effect and it's absolutely beautiful.  Why did I fight against taking medication for so long?  It's okay, I'm here now.  

I don't know where this journey is taking me.  But I do know two things for sure.  1) I'm moving forward alive, present, aware, and curious.  2) I am letting go and letting the path lead me.  I'm trusting the process.  Like I said, I am tired, I'm soul tired; I don't have the strength to struggle anymore.  This includes engaging in anything, such as drinking too much, that creates struggle in my life.  I don't have the strength anymore for regret or shame or "should haves."  Moving forward and moving on....