Friday, December 16, 2016
End of beer.
That could have been me. That could have been anyone. I love to drink beer, it helps dull my anxiety and my worries. But I have kids. I have grandkids. I have a mom. If something would happen to one of my kids, I would go to them in an instant. Regardless of whether I was sober or under the influence of a few beers. I would go to them. Any of them.
But what if I hurt or killed someone? What if I hurt or killed myself because of my drinking? Am I an alcoholic? I don't think so, I guess it depends on your definition. I know that for a couple of weeks after I made that decision to not drink again, it was really hard to drive past the bottle shop and not pick up a six pack. It was nearly agony over the Labor Day weekend to not have a beer and play the piano. It's been easier over the past few months. In fact, the only drink I've thought of is eggnog and then I remember my promise to myself and decide on a nice hot mug of tea.
It hasn't been easy - so much of our culture relates being social to hanging out and having a drink or two. Except that I know that if I allow myself to have just 1 drink, that will be the end. I am pretty sure that I'm seen as a bore at work - I like to be around my co-workers but they don't understand - nor would I tell them - that going to a wine-tasting or a local bar just can't be my thing anymore.
I feel so much better - my thoughts are clearer, my thoughts are clearer, I'm getting things done.
In other news, Dirt - the indoor turned outdoor turned indoor again cat - has moved into the bathroom and as a result, Sox the former bathroom cat, has moved onto the kitchen table.
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