Cold clouding all sensible judgment. Everything sucks, life is stupid, nobody loves me...you know, all that bullshit. Just took half an over-the-counter sleep aid in hope that tomorrow will be less sucky.
I am, however, very grateful my yesterday-self went to the grocery as I did indeed stay in my pajamas all day.
This too shall pass.
Sunday, August 7, 2016
Saturday, August 6, 2016
Day 78
A head cold. Joy.
I suppose it's not entirely unexpected given that I've been having a lot of negative emotions in the past week and then rode all those rides at the county fair three days ago...but that doesn't make it any less unpleasant. I very seldom get sick so I'm an awfully poor sport when I do, although it's all internalized. I have a couple relatives who just will not shut up bitching and moaning whenever they catch a cold and it annoys me no end so I refuse to be the same way.
Anyhow. It was definitely a plus that the cold decided not to start in until midafternoon as I had promised ABL Red Lobster for lunch. We were there and back again before the left side of my face started watering up and it was another good couple hours before I realized that no, it wasn't just a temporary allergic reaction, dammit...but it did explain the weird hot/cold/clammy/sweaty most of the day before that I was chalking up to hormones. Hell, it might even explain some of the big unexpected sad yesterday too.
Speaking of yesterday, I totally forgot to mention that night before last I had a drinking dream. Yup, was with people I know only slightly in an unexplained social setting and was blithely standing around a table of mix-your-own talking away about this and that and mixing a hefty gin and cola (!?) Sat down with it at a long table still chatting away, slurped a good third of it down (not tasting anything at all other than vaguely sweet - again !?) and only after, in the dream, feeling flushed and hot in my forehead and cheeks did I realize "OhmahGHAWD! But I don't drink! This is BOOZE!" Then of course the instantaneous guilt set in and one of the big thoughts was "but I'm past seventy days!" and another passing thought was "If I dump the rest of it does it count?" followed immediately by "of COURSE it counts; you're FEELING it!" Then there was a general feeling of emotional awfulness and the setting/people faded to black...
...and then I woke up. Instantly incredibly grateful to realize it was only a dream.
Didn't have anything like that today, praise be. The other praiseworthy thing is that once I realized I did in fact have the early stage of a head cold I quick figured out menus and did the grocery shopping now, on a Saturday night, so that tomorrow I don't have to get out of my pajamas at all if I don't want. Really good timing too because in the half-hour since I've been home the cold has evolved from scratchy/watery to sneezing/running with mucus.
A year or so ago I would have used "head cold" as an excuse to drink a little more than usual. Not that it took much of an excuse.
Which reminds me: although I'm definitely proud of every milestone along the way and will enjoy the heck out of getting back to 100 days, the Big Prize this time is definitely a year. I want a sober birthday really badly...and only after stumbling at the Day 202 mark did I realize just how long I've envied people who have them: years. Probably decades, even. I can recall still being in my twenties and thinking that people who had given up alcohol had something I wanted...
...and now I finally want it badly enough. I think. I hope. This time around the Big Quit was July 2, 205 and I got to 56 days, fell off for 9 and got back on for 202...but then it took 45 days - six and a half weeks - to get the momentum going again. I'm scared it would take even longer if I started back up again now and although intellectually I know there's no fun in it any more the whole booze game is so insidious and sneaky. Since my dream I've been thinking maybe I better be a little hyper-vigilant about the fighting complacency thing.
But I can be hyper-vigilant while lying on the couch with a box of tissues. I'd go all the way to bed but it's too early to walk the dog one last time.
Friday, August 5, 2016
Day 77: Eleven weeks
The numbers are piling up which is nice.
I just wish I'd have some of that pink cloud stuff I read about. Today by all objective criteria should have been a great day: off work, went back to sleep for an hour, did essentially no cooking or cleaning, had frozen yogurt in the middle of the day and a whole stack of new library books...but I still had a big sad going on.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.
Thursday, August 4, 2016
Day 76
Well, technically 75 1/2 as I'm starting this post in the early afternoon because I'm fading fast. So. Very. Tired. Both physically and emotionally. Probably more of the latter.
However I wanted to share today's discovery which is that my renewed interest in the local library system has become a big sober tool. That part is a bit "well, duh!" but the why came to me today: it's because escaping into the written word was one of my major childhood survival skills. I've said many times that books were my first best drug and although that's probably a rotten way to phrase it on a sobriety blog I think you get the idea. The author Lauren Groff, in her first novel The Monster of Templeton had one of her characters say
When I was small and easily wounded, books were my carapace.
That line was so profound for me that I have it stuck to my office wall.
(Right between Oscar Wilde's "the truth is rarely pure and never simple" and "Ce n'est pas à nous" which I found in a Michael Gruber novel and means "ours not to question" but I'm seriously digressing. The stuff on my office walls is a post unto itself.)
Now that I'm having to live through All These Emotions without anesthetic I've rediscovered my carapace and it helps. Lots. Maybe there's something from your own childhood - single-digits childhood, well before that whole tween thing started - that was a carapace or a comfort then which might be one again now.
[later]
In keeping with self-comfort, dinner was a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich. Haven't had one in so long I can't remember - maybe a year or more - and it was really good. Had to stop on the way home for ice at the grocery (yes the fridge makes ice but 1) it isn't as good and 2) I can go through a whole hopper in half a day - I like really iced tea) so I also got a prepackaged two-slices-of-cake from the bakery department. For the next few days it's just ABL and I: Middle and his brother-in-law went down to Chaos South to see the rest of the family and Youngest is back with MiL to be closer to the school for her driver's ed course. I had some cherry ice-cream topping for the cake so we had total mega-dessert which we both enjoyed very much.
From dessert I went straight to the couch with a book.
It's now about three hours since I crossed the threshold and I'm orders of magnitude better than I was. Not yet baseline but getting there. Self-care works. Soothing instead of ignoring the inner cranky tantrum-y child is always the better choice yet I find it surprisingly hard to do. Something to ponder.
However I wanted to share today's discovery which is that my renewed interest in the local library system has become a big sober tool. That part is a bit "well, duh!" but the why came to me today: it's because escaping into the written word was one of my major childhood survival skills. I've said many times that books were my first best drug and although that's probably a rotten way to phrase it on a sobriety blog I think you get the idea. The author Lauren Groff, in her first novel The Monster of Templeton had one of her characters say
When I was small and easily wounded, books were my carapace.
That line was so profound for me that I have it stuck to my office wall.
(Right between Oscar Wilde's "the truth is rarely pure and never simple" and "Ce n'est pas à nous" which I found in a Michael Gruber novel and means "ours not to question" but I'm seriously digressing. The stuff on my office walls is a post unto itself.)
Now that I'm having to live through All These Emotions without anesthetic I've rediscovered my carapace and it helps. Lots. Maybe there's something from your own childhood - single-digits childhood, well before that whole tween thing started - that was a carapace or a comfort then which might be one again now.
[later]
In keeping with self-comfort, dinner was a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich. Haven't had one in so long I can't remember - maybe a year or more - and it was really good. Had to stop on the way home for ice at the grocery (yes the fridge makes ice but 1) it isn't as good and 2) I can go through a whole hopper in half a day - I like really iced tea) so I also got a prepackaged two-slices-of-cake from the bakery department. For the next few days it's just ABL and I: Middle and his brother-in-law went down to Chaos South to see the rest of the family and Youngest is back with MiL to be closer to the school for her driver's ed course. I had some cherry ice-cream topping for the cake so we had total mega-dessert which we both enjoyed very much.
From dessert I went straight to the couch with a book.
It's now about three hours since I crossed the threshold and I'm orders of magnitude better than I was. Not yet baseline but getting there. Self-care works. Soothing instead of ignoring the inner cranky tantrum-y child is always the better choice yet I find it surprisingly hard to do. Something to ponder.
Wednesday, August 3, 2016
Day 75
Tired.
Stayed up past one finishing my book which I knew at the time wasn't the best move but I knew if I tried to put it down I'd just toss and turn thinking about it. So I started the day draggy although not -as- draggy as I had feared. Score one for restful sober sleep even in reduced amounts.
Ended the day with the county fair which was a lot of walking but also fun rides and greasy fair food. Took ABL and Youngest for one-price rides night which I had thought was tomorrow till I went to the fair website and a damned good thing I did too. Anyhow fun was had by all though I was awfully tired and definitely ready to come home by the time we did. Quick shower and boom - already in bed. Didn't even make ABL's lunch which I must remember to do in the morning - ditto the dishes.
Fortunately thanks to being sober I will actually -remember- about the lunch tomorrow morning.
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
Day 74
Everything is okay. Got caught up in a good book. Up far too late but must finish it now. No cravings today.
Monday, August 1, 2016
Day 73
Another day.
I don't want to drink but I do want a whole different life.
Nah, not really...but there were more challenges on the home front today and I'm tired of challenges. I was appropriately angry and appropriately sad by which I mean I didn't blow up or break down or go to any particular extreme. Just sat with the emotions and eventually they mellowed out on their own.
This is definitely an improvement over the pouty "not gonna drink but mad/sulky/sad that I can't and have to feel all these unpleasant feelings" of just a day or two. Don't think it's any sudden huge personal growth on my part; probably just a better balance of brain chemicals and possibly just fatigue but I'll take it.
I'll also take bedtime with a side of light fiction - I find "ah, fuck it. Go to bed and start over in the morning" to be a fine coping strategy.
I don't want to drink but I do want a whole different life.
Nah, not really...but there were more challenges on the home front today and I'm tired of challenges. I was appropriately angry and appropriately sad by which I mean I didn't blow up or break down or go to any particular extreme. Just sat with the emotions and eventually they mellowed out on their own.
This is definitely an improvement over the pouty "not gonna drink but mad/sulky/sad that I can't and have to feel all these unpleasant feelings" of just a day or two. Don't think it's any sudden huge personal growth on my part; probably just a better balance of brain chemicals and possibly just fatigue but I'll take it.
I'll also take bedtime with a side of light fiction - I find "ah, fuck it. Go to bed and start over in the morning" to be a fine coping strategy.
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