Waking Up Sober

 Hubby and I took a much-needed weekend away. After six months of living primarily within the same four walls, taking countless walks around our neighborhood, and putting few miles on the car, our cabin fever hit the limit.  So, we packed up and headed to the beach.  My happy place.  There's something about the expanse of water that soothes my soul. My happy place. And my trigger place. We arrived last night at dinner time and ordered pizza for take-out.  Without consciously thinking about it, my brain started to plan on stopping to pick up drinks.   Beach+Pizza=Need to Have a Drink Or at least it did and has for the last 20 years.  Like a wave crashing over my head, the cravings washed over me.  They were powerful...embodied almost.  I could literally feel the yearning in my body.  Thankfully, I've been introduced to the concept of surfing the urge.  So rather than fight the craving or swallow the water of it, I surfed it.  As I surfed the urge, I noticed again how much I asso

When I decided to go AF in the end of September 2020, it was to take a break .  Taking a break is a regular practice for me from wine to sugar to screen time, taking a break has been a consistent means of interrupting patterns and recalibrating.  That was my intention in September to interrupt and recalibrate. That was six months ago today. Six months?!?    The intentional pause has become more like a separation.  Much like separations in all relationships, the time away has allowed space and time to really ponder.  Even with all the science and quit lit. I've read, there's still a part of me that romanticizes date night and wine , family gatherings and wine , getting together with girlfriends and wine , hanging out with friends and wine .  I can vividly picture having a hard day or hard week and friends saying "let's meet up for a drink."  It was part and parcel of so many social connections pre-Pandemic.  In these six months, I have come to see how much wine wa

 The last month have been a string of long, long days.  I'm a solo-preuner. AKA small business owner with a business of one.  ME!  Needless to say that last year has been full of ups, downs, sideways, and everything in-between.  Although with the nature of my work, I've continued working the whole time and been able to pivot to virtual and now a hybrid of "a little bit of both," it's been long.  And I'm weary. Weary from pivoting and weary because the work is different and it's hard.  And I think I'm weary because I've been sober for six months and also off sugar mostly, so my dopamine isn't getting hits from anything but real life.  Apparently, this also means that I'm acutely more aware of my feelings and bodily sensations.  So, last night I finish my day at 6:00 p.m.  I'm exhausted.  I had a HORRIBLE night's sleep the night before.  (I realize I've grown accustomed to good night's sleep and apparently have been taking the

 When I started this blog two days ago, much of it was inspired by and in hopes of what Mrs. D, Sober Mummy, and UnPickled chronicle in their blogs.  How the blogosphere became a place for community.  So after debating...I decided to type my way in. Once I entered I realized that I had no idea how to connect with other bloggers.  When I google it--it all seems consumer driven. ARG!  I found myself screaming inside. WHY WHY WHY for the love of all that is holy must we commoditize things?  This is not to say that what I seek isn't there...just that the first two pages of Google were all about how to utlize blogs as marketing, how to make money off your blog, and how to insert yourself in the blog world all with the goals of 1.  getting known 2.  making money 3.  advancing an agenda for yourself My hope with this blog is to connect with others and have the warm experiences chronicled by others... Is it too late for that?  Has the blog bus left years ago or does an anonymous sober blog

 My whole being feels exhausted...physically yes.  But there's a level of emotional, mental, and spiritual depletion as well.  Yesterday was *supposed* to be a gentle day where I gave myself room. And then--I had a tech issue with work that I needed to address.  I had some work that I told myself I *couldn't say no to* (I own my own business--so I'm my own mean boss) Add to that hubby and I have been working primarily from home together for one year with little other adult social interaction.  (I've been out for some work but he's been in our basement working virtually for a year). So needless to say, I get whatever unpleasantness has been stirred in him. Pre-alcohol free me--I was superb at managing all of this and calmly processing when he would take shit out on me/advocate for myself.  All very cool, calm, and collected.  Self-regulated if you will. Now--not so much. My energy level and capacity are less with work. And all my emotions come to the surface with hub

As a girl I learned that I was a little too much.  Too much big emotion.  Too much sensitivity.  Too much creativity.  Too much. To deal with that too muchness--I was taught to eat.  A little food surely makes any big emotion better.  And of course, what's not to like about a sweet treat?  Of course, the double bind of this was not to get fat...dreaded FAT.  No one likes fat girls.  Thus began my lifelong struggle with how to I be these two selves---the girl with the big emotions that should be seen and the girl that people like. From this I say I became a compulsive take the edge offer.  Any way to numb or conceal the big emotions just a little bit so that I can perfect and people please.  AKA--not be abandoned.  In my mid-forties, I had been fairly controlled  in this practice.   Not over-eating.  Not over-drinking.  Not over-working.  I knew just how much was enough and spent great amounts of energy wading in the waters but not crossing the line. Enter March 2020.  Good bye cont