Point A to Point B

There's not much to say this morning.  Not much going on in my mind.  That's not a bad thing.  That means a content, anxious free, morning.  I'll take it.  Yesterday was a distant content.  What I mean is that I had a good day but didn't feel completely connected and that's okay.  Better to feel a disconnected contentedness than a disconnected anxiety.  It was a productive day without being overwhelming.  A day to tie up loose ends, so to speak.  Getting a vet appointment set up for Otis, ordering lift tickets for Craig and Kye, taking Shaun to pick up his new amp, running to the store for a few items, making dinner, doing laundry, cleaning the floors, watching a movie, replying to a couple of emails, getting Otis to the park, cleaning up the kitchen, watching a show with Craig, and climbing into bed content and tired.  I actually slept pretty well last night, despite the solid hour-long nap midday.  Did I forget to list that?  

I stayed within my limits yesterday.  I had a couple of beers midday to knock me out for a nap, my secret tool to reset my system (the nap, not the beer).  The pre-nap beer is a new habit I picked up about a year ago.  It's not every day, but on the days that I really need a nap but I'm feeling a bit wired, two beers and I'm out.  Proof that the progression of alcohol use disorder is insidious.  I've told myself all of the excuses and believed each one of them.  "It's that time of the month, I'm perimenopause and need my sleep however I can get it, many people drink midday, at least I'm not drinking in the morning (that excuse evaporated pretty quickly), I'm not getting drunk (another excuse that underestimated the power of alcohol), I'll just have one (hah!)..."  About three months ago, I had a moment of clarity.  Have you ever had one of those epiphanies where you catch a glimpse of yourself, either in the act of a behavior or in a third person perspective, and you see the honest truth?  Maybe this moment lasts a few seconds, maybe it's subtle enough you don't get a chance to latch onto it.  My moment latched onto me.  I saw the progression.  I saw a middle-aged woman sneaking beers into her coffee mug, sometimes even before her tea.  Or in place of her tea.   It was the saddest thing I ever saw because just down the hallway, her two children slept.  Just outside the window, a beautiful day awaited.  Just down the road, a park was full of dog walkers and a schoolyard was filling up with parents dropping their children off for the day.  And here was this middle-aged woman, a slight puff to her face and grit to her eyes, sipping beer out of her morning mug, watching the news.  Oh shit, that woman is me.  

So I have to ask myself, why the hell am I trying to moderate?  Because I'm not ready to give it up yet.  There's a sense of pride that comes with me staying within my limits.  A sense of strength and power.  Yes, I know I get the same feeling when I don't drink at all, but not drinking is lonely.  It's isolating.  When I had stopped drinking for over a year in 2021, I felt empowered and badass and distant and alone.  Because I knew this big powerful secret no one around me knew.  That life is invigorating and wild, raw and beautiful, authentic and vulnerable, when there is not booze to bog you down.  I had my online support groups, but everyone around me kept drinking along, numbing and dumbing their nights, their days, their lives.  I don't want to live like that,  but I do want to partake in a couple of drinks to keep connected.  Is it FOMO?  I don't think so.  I am fully aware of what I'm missing out on when I don't get shit-faced, and I'm okay with it.  That's what I want to achieve right now; I want to go out, have a couple of beers, say goodnight, and wake up refreshed.  I want to have it all.  Maybe I'm delusional.  Maybe I'm falling under one of alcohol's insidious lies.  Maybe I just have to try and learn.

Last night, I had a glass of wine.  I looked forward to sitting on the couch with Craig and watching our evening show while sipping a glass of booze.  Sounds elegant, doesn't it?  Sipping booze like a lady.  It didn't add to the moment nor did it take away.  It was indifferent.  I was indifferent.  I did notice, however, how often Craig got up to refill his glass.  The glug, glug, of poison into his glass goblet.  The slurp of poison off the top before attempting to walk back to the couch without spilling.  So we sipped our poison in silence while watching TV, occasionally blurting out who we thought murdered the innocent victim.  I'm not going to lie, it was a cozy night.  Except for the fact that alcohol drives people apart.  It's stealth.  We can't be fully present with each other when booze is throwing a veil over our hearts and minds.  And that's my biggest fear.  I will never know who Craig and I are without booze.  I know who I am without it, and I was lonely.  Maybe that's why I want to moderate.  It allows me to keep a bridge between the two worlds.  The two me's.  

This journey isn't about going from point A to point B.  It's about discovery.  What works and what doesn't and taking a step back, readjusting, adapting, and trying again.  And again, and again.  It's like any solid science experiment.  We learn and grow and evolve as we fuck up.