Well, I’m at Day 25 which is mind-boggling. I have clear memories from when I sat stagnating around Day 1 and reading people who were this far in and thinking it seemed insane. Months or years long sober people were like foreign aliens. What they did seemed completely inaccessible to me.
And here I am. I’ve experienced some weird thinking patterns this last week, thinking a lot about drinking and the good parts of checking out of life with a bottle of wine. Weirdly, it hasn’t crossed my mind to actually DO it. No part of me would consider actually doing it right now, but it’s like my brain needs to allow for future me to be able to do it even though I don’t want to.
I think it must be part of the grieving process, like sifting through the remains of a bad romantic relationship. The early days are emotionally easy: you pick out all the crap aspects of the relationship and you reject them, then affirm yourself for your wise choice to end it.
Then later days the memories of good times bubble up. No part of you wants to go back because you know on the whole it was a miserable relationship, but you recognize that it wasn’t all bad.
The thing I’m finally getting through my thick, stubborn, addicted skull is that… well… it kind of WAS all bad. I just didn’t recognize it. Or if not bad, then at least totally unnecessary, just a dead weight that holds you back.
I have said since almost the beginning of my fight to kick this damn thing out of my life in January 2019 that it keeps me mediocre. I don’t expect to be anyone major who will make headlines around the world, but I know that I can live my own life better, and booze keeps me average. Is that what I want my legacy to be?
So, in the meantime, I will sit with the weird feeling of loss for a relationship I’m glad is over. I’ll accept that it’s part of the grieving process for something I thought was a friend and now see so clearly was just a dead weight.
And I’ll reaffirm how EVERYTHING is currently better. Even the hard feelings are better because I know I’m working on them and moving past them instead of drowning them in booze just to face them all over again.
Has anyone else felt this sort of nostalgia for drinking mixed with knowing it wasn’t worth it?