...I'm not OLD!
Oh wait, this is real life, not a Monty Python movie. I'm forty-nine and two-thirds and that might not be old but it's definitely not young...and Day 37 might not be a lot but it definitely isn't nothing either.
Plenty of emotional rollercoaster today. Stepping out of the house for morning coffee was wonderful and bright. On the flip side though, there was a point this evening when I was completely stewing in rage far out of proportion to anything even potentially causing it. Didn't want to drink but wouldn't have minded chewing the legs off most of the furniture and maybe some of the people...but it passed.
I keep telling myself "Raw. The word for early sober emotions is 'raw' for a reason. Also 'volatile.'" I frequently remember that line from I'm-pretty-sure-it-was-Caroline-Knapp about "you sit there thinking 'these are the exact feelings I was drinking to avoid.'"
It eventually settles down, though, that I know too.