Niggling the Night Away

I'm kind of dragging ass today.  Could be my period, could be my interrupted sleep, could be the two extra drinks last night.  Five in total.  Two more than my planned drinking.  I'm not beating myself up, though.  I'm looking at it as a learning experience.  What happened?  It started as a lazy, sunny, afternoon with my husband building a new vegetable garden, me cleaning up the thrift store chandelier for the back patio, and our son working on his electric guitar.  Even our older son came outside and sat down with the dog while we all worked away on our projects.  It was a perfect Sunday.  I can't remember having a Sunday like that since before the dreaded teen years.  I didn't want to drink.  I didn't want a fuzzy veil around the perfect scene of our little family together in our pride-and-joy of a backyard.  So I grabbed a near beer without a second thought and relished the moment.  

Around 3:30, Craig was getting ready to head out for his customary Sunday beers at the local brewery.  It's his way of wrapping up the weekend.  My way is staying cozy at home, working on dinner, watering the plants, whatever I can do to slow down time.  Before Craig headed out he asked if I wanted to have a beer with him on the patio.  The kids were back in their rooms, the dog was snoring on his bed in the living room (which reminds me, we really need to put him on a diet) and the Sunday moment was gone.  I had one of Craig's high octane beers.  Not one; it's actually two beers in one can, a 24oz beast of a beer.  Halfway through, I felt the familiar buzz and fuzz.  I can't say I actually liked it.  I liked sitting outside in the afternoon sun with Craig, sipping a beer.  I liked the ritual, the sense of a day well lived, the coming together in a shared connection of, "Wow, this is our life.  It's a beautiful life regardless of the ups and downs.  Because we make it through, we always do."  That kind of connection, without the words ever being spoken.  I could have relished that feeling with another near beer, but the dazed haziness of the full IPA was taking hold.  Craig went out and brought home a tall can of my light beer.  Another 24oz can, three this time, because they are sold in a 3-pack and it's cheaper than buying them individually.  I only had one because I figured I'm already a bit fuzzy, may as well because there's no turning back.  Well, there is.  Just stop drinking.  Duh.  Dinner was served.  Time for a TV show.  Climbed into bed (the living room TV wasn't working.)  Poor a glass of wine.  Don't finish it because it's gross.  I went over by two drinks but I'm choosing to focus on the positive.  I stopped after one tall can of my light beer, even though there are still two in our wine fridge.  I didn't finish the wine; I poured it into Craig's glass, backwash and all.  I made a cup of decaf and climbed into bed for the night.  That's a win.

It's my period week, aka hell week.  (If you're not familiar with PMDD, look it up.  Its PMS but on steroids, or crack.  Take your pick.)  While some women crave sweet treats, I crave beer.  A lot of beer.  But yesterday, it just didn't feel right.  The familiarity was there, but I just didn't crave it like I am used to.  The loss of the craving was a little uncomfortable, I'm not going to lie.  I had two choices, continue drinking because that's what I'm used to, or sit with the little niggle of discomfort, sip my decaf, and get to bed.  I sat with the niggle.  I woke up this morning a bit unmotivated, but that's okay.  Because my true Self is getting stronger with each little win.  Her voice is becoming louder and prouder and I'm gaining the strength to tell the booze bitch to quiet down, I trying to hear Me.