Wednesday. It always used to be my least favourite day – as far from the weekend as you can get in both directions and at school and college it was always when we had double lessons in all the heavy subjects. And today? Today’s OK, as far as Wednesdays go. The weather is a bit rubbish and I’m already missing hubby and his perfectly shaped arse who flew to Sweden this morning (stoopid Sweden!) and isn’t back until tomorrow. Speaking of his glorious backside, I decided I wanted to bite it before going to sleep, you know, a big mouthful of one of his gorgeous buttocks, so dove in under the duvet to go about my biting business. I nearly fucking choked. He’d sneaked out a silent fart and it was one of those violently stinky ones that linger forever. So no buttock biting for yours truly. So gross. I wonder if it’s a defence mechanism to prevent me from inflicting pain on him. Got up early with His Royal Loveliness – 5am to be precise – and put on some coffee, then as he left for the waiting taxi outside instructed him to not talk to any female colleagues in Stockholm today. I sometimes wonder how other women react to him given the effect he has on me and my biting tendencies. I’d get myself fired in an instant. Hm, it’d be totally worth it though for one teeny, little bite. Even if I just got his arm. I need to stop perving over my husband, it’s getting weird. My apologies.
That butt though. And then you have those amazing legs attached to it. It’s like fucking Christmas. Like, literally fucking Christmas. I need help, don’t I?
Where were we? Wednesday! Yes, it’s Wednesday and it’s raining and hubby is away. Yet I feel on top of the world and I know I’m like a broken record but given the reason why I’m writing this blog and what I’m trying to say here it cannot be underlined enough: I feel fucking amazing because I’m not drinking. Because that’s just it – nothing else has changed. Not a thing. If anything, I’m a little bit fatter and my son is getting more detentions lately, but nothing has changed except for the simple fact that I’m not drinking myself into black-out several nights every week. To be honest, over the past 12 years, if I’ve had four sober nights in one week I’ve normally considered that a pretty good result. Madness, eh. Yep, the one and only reason why I’ve gone from happy and content to loving life with such intensity I can’t keep still. And what’s not to love? Well. I could list all the things I consider blessings, but let’s focus on the most important: I’m healthy and strong and so are my loved ones, and let’s face it, when it comes down to it you have nothing if you don’t have your health.
I’ve been thinking about that more than usual lately, actually. A guy who works with hubby is going through what I imagine feels like the seven circles of hell. I almost don’t want to type it because just imagining it makes my heart shrink in my chest and contract into a hard stone. His teenage son has a lump in his groin, apparently a tumour and yesterday evening, after various scans and a biopsy they were going to be told if it’s the c-word. I’m praying and wishing with every fibre in my body that what they were told was that it’s a harmless lump and they’ll easily remove it, job done. Please God, let it be nothing more than that. I can’t think of anything worse than my child coming in harm’s way, it’s the stuff of nightmares and horrible compulsive thoughts that sometimes keep me up at night when I’m in full blown anxiety mode (normally induced by alcohol, I hasten to add – I don’t seem to ever feel anxious without booze in the picture). I swear I’d go to my death or meet the worst end imaginable if it would mean my precious bambino was kept safe and well. So it’s the one thing I am the most grateful for – my health and the health of all the people I love.
Eesh – I need to push those thoughts out. The worst happening to my rat bag of a kid is a string of detentions lately. Well. He’s always been a chatterbox and from when he started school at four the running theme for all parents evenings has been how he needs to realise that school is for learning, not socialising. The latest detentions have been for relatively minor offences like sharing out sweets in class and when he was told off he apparently tried to bribe the teacher – with sweets as well as a fake Louis Vuitton belt I’m told – into letting him off the hook. I can’t help but feel a bit of pride. He’s just too funny sometimes. I just need to work on not getting the giggles when despairing teachers tell me what he’s done. I know, I’m a terrible parent but some of the stuff he does is just too funny.
So Wednesday. Absent hubby and naughty but funny child. And I’m getting a bit fat. It’s all good though. Bit bored with work, but so what – writing and hammering metal can be my sources of inspiration. And my bosses are lovely so why do I complain at all?
I feel I keep going off topic! This blog was designed to be an outlet for all the angst and drudgery I expected to go through when I kicked the vin blanc, but all I find myself being able to say is how freaking great everything is. But it is! I’d be lying if I told you that sobriety comes at a price. A box of wine and soda water most evenings is actually quite a lot of money I’m now not spending, alcohol doesn’t just damage your insides but gives your skin a dull and ruddy appearance too, and waking up most mornings so hungover even getting out of bed is horrible is no way to live. I just don’t feel deprived like I expected to. The first few days it was a little strange and I did get the urge I think, but I was lucky enough to stop before I was physically dependent so all I really had to deal with was the mental illusion that alcohol added some benefit. That benefit to me was how I perceived wine to be glitter I added to further enhance this beautiful life, but that benefit is an illusion because how could life be enhanced by a poison that actually dulls our senses? And just reading this paragraph back is enough proof that I’ve lost nothing and won EVERYTHING.
Went to the “usual” Tuesday AA meeting and plan to head to the women’s meeting tomorrow. Sat as usual and loved being surrounded by people who all share this strange inability to stop drinking if we start, and as usual some things resonated with me (someone mentioned how sobriety now means she notices butterflies and appreciates the small things) and things that didn’t (“sobriety is hard“) but know that everyone’s journey is different and perhaps I’m just very, very lucky. I did wonder actually, if I’d kept on drinking and lost everything, and alcohol had become my only way of coping – would getting sober have seemed so easy and so great? Answers on a postcard, please.
So my least favourite day is a mighty fine day indeed – Wednesday, I salute you – because I got to wake up without a hangover again and today I’m not going to drink.
Storm in a Wine Glass 