Nearly Six Months Sober--Hitting the Pandemic Wall

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 control...hello increase in indulgence.  Because--why not?  It's the end of the world as I knew--and I was NOT feeling fine.

All kidding aside, the first several months (March until May) were actually rather moderate.  A little more indulgence than previous but nothing big.  Until the murder of George Floyd and several personal challenges--and so June 2020 I just said Fuck this Shit.

For me fuck this shit meant starting to drink wine nightly--red--specifically.  It meant my two glasses on weekend nights was creeping up to drinking a bottle on a Friday and Saturday.  Behind the closed doors of my mind it meant starting to think about drinking...almost counting down the hours until it was acceptable to pour that first (uber full) glass.  

Although I thought I was hiding this rather well from my hubby, he apparently started to notice that I was a little sauced.  

But the summer trucked along the way it does.  Then we hit a weekend where both our refrigerator and Ruth Bader Ginsberg died.  (FYI there's an appliance shortage in Pandemic--so we were a home with not refrigeration, and I was a woman living in fear of what would happen to us with the death of RBG.  Needless to say, I drank that night.  I drank fast.  I drank hard.  A bottle of Maubec.  I drank so fast and so hard that I got sick.  Hello--I'm in my 40s...not some college girl.  

That was sobering for me.  

The next morning I woke and started to reckon with myself.  As I did, my courageous husband approached me sharing his worry about me.  I'm scared.  He told me.  I'm worried about you.  

The man knows the way to my heart and head.  I started to weep.  I'm scared too.  I confessed.  That day I decided to go a month with no drinking.  As October was fast approaching, I decided to commit to this "Sober October" that I'd seen online and found Annie Grace's The Alcohol Experiment.  So I signed up...and things haven't been the same since.

Over that month, I recognized how much of my unconscious mind had these belief about booze that were completely false.  How conditioned I have been to take the edge off.  And how patriarchy and white supremacy utilize alcohol to encourage me to play small.  Hello--mind blown.

From there I discovered a whole world of amazing sober women--so I committed to 100 days.  This would take me through the holidays.  Gulp!  (I still secretly thought if I could red-x the days off the calendar I'd be ok to get back to my long-lost friend, Cab.). But truth be told--as hard as it's been; as emotional as it's been; as raw as it's been--I've also grown more.  Something.  Some shift is happening.

Fast-forward time--and here I am one week shy of six months sober.

Six months?!?!

And I'm finding myself hitting a kind of wall.  I'm grumpy.  Irritable.  Sad.  Despairing.  Resentful.  All the feels. There's a pouty girl in me who thinks This isn't FAIR!!!  And I can tell I'm starting to debate with myself about when it will be ok to take the edge off again.  Russian Roulette with Red Wine.

So following Sober Mummy, UnPickled, and Mrs. D., I decided to enter the blogosphere with an anonymous blog in an attempt to feel a little less alone in this quest.  And to pour my thoughts and heart onto a page and into something bigger.  

Deep gratitude to you women for paving the way.  Your recounting the steps of those early days has helped me tremendously...and in your footsteps...I'm stepping into this world hoping to find the next generation of us.

With you on the journey,

Sober Seeker