Happy (belated) Saint Patrick's Day, first of all. Here is hoping that you raised a glass or ten of good green cheer and got punched in your bloated gut and vomited onto the pavement outside the bar after hitting on a married woman (or man). And...may the road always rise up to slap you in the face and may the wind always cut shards of icy glass through your back. Cheers.Bitter? No.
Contemplative? Yes. I am contemplative. See me contemplate.
Yesterday, the 17th of March, marked my 100th day (on the dot) of continuous sobriety. I feel like a million yen. My eyes are clear and I live at a new residence and Louie runs in the backyard and Louie bays at the moon and Louie gleefully drops loads of poop wherever he wants to drop it in the great wide expanse of the green back yard. It is good. Life, that is.
Contemplative? Yes. I am contemplative. I went to a meeting yesterday night, Saint Patrick's Day, and I talked--and listened to others talk--about drinking and the ways in which we combat the debbil-in-dee-boddle. Afterwards, I took the girl whom I am seeing out to eat at a Lebonese restaurant and we ate hummus and fattouche and then we went back to my digs and we played a few games of checkers. I won once and she won twice. I then drove her home.
Driving back, I saw a multitude of cops on the road and, internally, I flipped them off. I'm a bad boy, I reckon. I still have no lost love for the boys in blue. But, I am getting better. I drove down Orchard Lake Road to Woodward Avenue, right on the outskirts of downtown Pontiac. Mine was the only car on the road but, as I paused for the light, I cast a glance back, across Woodward, at Saginaw Street in Pontiac, the home to a good number of bars, and I felt an almost-palpable sense of disassociation, dislocation. The cars were wee and I saw gnat-people walking the licorice-strip sidewalks, partaking in the good ole Saginaw bar-hop.
Apparently, someone (or many people) had consumed too much green cheer. I distractedly turned on my turn signal. Cop-car lights, like bright electric pebbles, blinked red and blue in the night sky, and I thought back to the period when I thought more alcohol--always more, always another one--was the obvious answer to all of life's questions, trials, tribulations, whatever.
The alcohol had lied to me. It was as simple as that. The light turned green and I turned south on Woodward, leaving the silent mess in the rearview mirror.
5 comments:
And, may you never live to see it again my friend.
Good for you, Happy 101 (now tis Sunday)
I think the feeling of dislocation and disassociation will fade as you have more and more time under your belt. Remember, there are millions of people out there who don't make drinking part of their routine, and to whom St. Paddy's Day is just another day and no excuse to be imbibing at 7:00 in the morning. And they live full, happy, healthy lives. That's what I want for you.
It's just going to take time and perseverance.
How much has changed in a few short months, Adam! And so much due to sobriety. I'm very proud of you, both for taking the rehab step and for sticking with it. You are awesome.
I'll second that, Nighthawk. =)
Melooba: Ur awsome-er. Er? Anyway, thanks for the heartfelt sentiments. Quite a bit of it, indeed, is due to sobriety. I've had very few cravings, thus far. Today, however.... Mi mamcita was going through the kitchen cupboards, taking everything out to see what I wanted to keep and what I had doubles of, and I came back into the room and she had a guilty look on her face and her hands behind her back. When i investigated, I saw that she held a half-gallon of Royal Canadian whiskey, unopened. Who knows how long it had been in there? Let me just say this: Upon seeing the plastic jug and with no ability to build any pre-emtory defenses, I had an actually physical reaction in my gut. And I tasted the whiskey on my tongue. She cracked the top and the sound seemed to echo and she dumped it down the kitchen sink. I wiped figuartive drool from my lips and I popped an Antabuse tablet. Thank God that she found it before I did. I *probably* would have done the right thing, but, who knows? Like I said, 'twas completely out of the blue.
Scary, isn't it, how easily one can be knocked off one's track when it comes to addiction?
(I'm good, now. Don'tcha worry.)
=-)
Let me get this straight-you just played checkers? And you let her win? Well good on you!
It's been 18 months since I've drank. Not that drinking was my demon, but...it's been a while. There are days when I miss it, then there are days when I wonder why I ever did it to begin with. Happy 101 days. That is something to be proud of.
Hey, Kimmy K.! Welcome to my humble binary abode. Checkers? Strictly a euphimism. She won twice and I almost won twice, as well. I'm juvenile, I am.
Thank you for the props. I *am* actually pretty proud of it. 101 days, that is. I know why I drank in the first place: A release, a cure for boredom, a social lubricant, a way to combat self-esteem, a bit of peer pressure, and a multitude of other reasons--some grand, some minute--that may or may not include the practice of drinking on days that end with the letter "Y". ;-)
Regarding *letting* a woman win: Not on my watch! If she wins, she's got to earn it. I may keep the game close, though! ;-)
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