I’ve been stressing a bit about the BIGness of getting through the holidays sober. I’ve been letting my mind wander to bad places, imagining drinking this Christmas the way I have in past years. My memory sugar-coats and romanticizes it, and I have to shake myself in reminder of what I know to be true about how I would drink if I could: copiously and destructively.
So, this led to a bit of an epiphany as I was looking at my sober app and congratulating myself on both September and November completely booze-free (October… different story…). December is just another month. Just another 31 days, of which I’ve already been sober for almost a third now.
A pandemic-silver lining, I’m recognizing, is zero parties (my province is on complete social lockdown) so I don’t have to face the challenge of normalized drinking in festive atmospheres. All I have to face is my own addictive voice, and I’m getting better and better at shutting her up.
I’m coming out of a short week of really tough emotions, and thankfully feeling better and better, and I’m going to cling to this thought when stress around sober holidays come up: it’s just another month. Just 21 days to go. No big deal.
And to make it through my first sober Christmas would be SUCH a coup, such a victory. I can do it, I know this! It’s just a month on the calendar.