I came really close to having a glass of white wine on Saturday. Surprised and a little disconcerted by how nonchalant I felt about it at the moment.
C had the day to himself, with me taking the boys on a play date with two other moms & their kids from the PreK program. We had a great time, playground, beach, public market lunch, even ran into another friend from their class.
Boys were exhausted after the long morning and ended up taking a 3-hour nap in the afternoon, leaving C and I the luxury of relaxing and snacking on the first course of an extended dinner C had planned while we were away: oysters and shrimp.
And of course, he pulled out a crisp, chilled bottle of white to go with it.
It looked perfectly delicious. I knew it would pair well with the oysters, and with the strenuous morning behind me and the boys happily napping, it felt like the optimal time to enjoy a glass.
I found myself reaching for his glass, “just for a taste”. Then, wondering why not have a glass? I’d be able to stop at one, right? There’s nothing wrong with one glass, right?
But I stopped myself. Why? Because I know that for me, even if I’d be able to stop at one that time, the next time it would be harder, and the time after that even harder.
Right now, it’s easy just to say No. Black & white. No blurred lines, no counting drinks per week, no feeling like shit the next morning when I realize I gave in to the urge and fell completely off the wagon.
So I enjoyed the oysters, and continued making dinner salad while sipping on sparkling water.
Yesterday, I had the best intentions to get to bed early after a wakeful couple of nights… so decided to skip posting in favor of sleep. Of course, as I brushed my teeth, I got sucked into a new book on my Kindle and it was almost midnight before I ended up in bed.
Then I lay awake with thoughts circling around until around 2am when one of the boys woke crying. And now it’s Friday, the night I usually stay up and “party” which lately means reading as much as I want. Guess I blew that yesterday!
Right now, all I want to do is sleep.
More than likely though, I’ll put the boys down and end up smoking – which always keeps me awake later than I’d like. C is headed to a show tonight so I’m the solo parent. Not that big of a deal, in fact I really enjoy my time alone with them, but it does tend to leave me feeling like I’ve earned a reward.
Between the not-so-private walls of this journal, I’m beginning to wonder if pot is replacing alcohol, and if so, whether it’s time to rethink my habits with it.
Other internal projects are still percolating along, including an attempt to extend generosity toward C in spite of fluctuations in mood, but nothing major to report.
Every day is an exercise, some more tiring than others.
Well I’ve put my finger on another trigger. Not a surprising one, but for some reason it hadn’t really risen to the level of conscious thought until last night.
We attended our good friend’s surprise 60th, an enjoyable evening with a mix of friends and people we’d never met from his life. Overall, it wasn’t a stressful situation. Everyone around me was drinking (hey – open bar!), and I was surprised at the need to “come out” to a couple of our beach crew who didn’t know I’d quit.
One of them seemed quite taken aback. “Really? Completely??” I just brushed it off, saying “Honestly, I don’t even miss it” as I headed to the bar for a Pepsi.
I was happy to drive us home, C’d had quite a few.
But when we arrived home, I was surprised to feel a strong urge to use a substance to decompress. In the end, I didn’t drink or smoke, but decided instead to read a book.
So people. Too many people in a social setting triggered that need.
I should know by now – every time I put a good-willed intention out there, the Universe looks for ways to test it.
Yesterday’s desire to carry grace forward into the day-to-day stresses of work and home life was almost immediately challenged by a sleepless night and the ongoing background strain between C and I. But I’ve been keeping my mouth shut unless I have something nice to say, and finding ways to reframe that help provide perspective. I may not be acing the marriage stuff right now, but at least I’m not actively damaging it.
In other news, today’s alcohol-free thought is brought to you by La Croix.
As I went to the fridge to grab something to drink this afternoon and looked through the choices (multiple hoppy IPAs or cans of sparkling water), I was struck with the silly thought that I don’t have to wait to drink my favorite thirst-quencher! I can drink it whenever I want! And it felt great to say that. Why?
Well, because it’s freedom.
I’m not locked into the addiction cycle of wanting wanting wanting a drink, all day, all afternoon, looking longingly at the gin or beer or whatever and thinking “MUST. WAIT.” And then diving in as soon as it felt appropriate, to catch a buzz as soon as possible. Chasing that through the evening. Regretting the last drink or two but still feeling the compulsion to have them.
I’m free from that and I don’t miss it one iota.
Now, gotta run – I’ve a party to prepare for! A friend’s surprise 60th, and I can’t wait to enjoy it, sparkling water (or maybe something more caffeinated) in hand.
We packed a lot in to one week: toad & frog hunting, berry hunting, pond swimming, evening bonfires, fireworks, small-town roadside ice-cream trips, major thunderstorms viewed from the cabin porch, deep late-night philosophical discussions between siblings, my dad’s retirement party.
So many great memories.
In the end, my intentions for the week crystalized into one thought: generosity of spirit. For me, this meant offering patience and love when it wasn’t easy, lending a listening ear when it was needed, staying quiet and observing my family through a positive lens, and going out of my way to make everyone’s time together pleasant. After all, as the family there for the whole week, we were “hosting” this time.
And more than once, that intention was tested. But I’m happy to say that even if I slipped occasionally, having that front of mind helped me through the week… especially in moments where my family had finished all the La Croix I brought, leaving nothing but beer to drink on a 90+ degree day. Ha!
Damn, did those cold beers look and sound delicious when people around me were popping them open left and right. But I rode the wave and found a way to get more non-alcoholic drinks chilled… and then smoked some green around the late night bonfire after kids were tucked in. And to be honest, in spite of the fact that everyone else was drinking beers throughout the day (and whiskey was being liberally enjoyed around the fire), the only time I wanted a drink was when I was thirsty and water wasn’t a choice. Other than that, I didn’t miss it one bit.
Another thing I didn’t miss was the hangover the next day. Up at the crack of dawn, thanks to our chipper 4 year olds, I was usually the one making coffee and getting breakfast started while everyone else was rubbing their eyes and trying to detach their brain from the side of their skull. Who knows, maybe they weren’t struggling, but I remember quite well how miserable a hangover at the Cabin can be. And was very happy to experience the sunny, energetic mornings without one.
Now, it’s back to the routine – work as busy as ever. C and I already had our first tense conversation since returning which is still rattling around in my head. But I’m back to meditating in the morning, something I missed a lot last week. Hopefully, it will all balance out.
And if I keep taking care of me, maybe it will be easier to continue offering those around me more grace and generosity of spirit.
It’s packing day! The last day before our trip up north to the Cabin, where we’ll be off the grid for the next week.
In the absence of my usual means of self-help support (podcasts, online articles, meditation app), I’m making mental cliff notes for myself, which basically boil down to the following:
Before reacting, stop, pause, observe.
This is ongoing advice I’ve been absorbing from self-guided meditations (dealing with observing how you feel, the changes in your body, staying detached from your thoughts and feelings), and also from the books & articles I’ve been reading that relate with both adult and child relationships. When you feel overwhelmed/angry/stressed, take a deep breath and try to observe the situation as an outsider before making a choice about how to react.
Try empathy first.
Taken from a couple parenting books & articles that have been in the brain pan lately, I find this advice covers all relationships – not just those between a parent and child. Everyone wants to be seen and understood, not just kids. Before any change can occur, a person needs to be understood.
Sometimes, staying quiet is best.
Not anything I’ve learned from a book, this is just something that Life is trying to teach me right now. So I’m trying to listen.
The next week will be a mix of fun and exhaustion, similar to our camping trip. It’s supposed to be 90+ degrees while we’re there, and I’m looking forward to swimming in the pond and hiking around with the boys. Can’t wait to see my family either. As always, even in the best of families, being together can be stressful. In anticipation, I’m hoping to keep these cliff notes front-of-mind while we enter this adventure.
I feel like I need to offset yesterday’s accusatory post with a more flattering one about C. Because of course, he is a mix of good and bad like the rest of us – and the good can be really good sometimes.
Last night, after tucking the boys in, I came downstairs feeling out-of-sorts and honestly, looking for a fight. I found him sitting on the couch with a notepad in hand, planning out the meals for our upcoming trip to my folk’s remote cabin next week.
My dad is retiring, and my whole family will be in town to celebrate. Various siblings and other family members will be overlapping our stay at the Cabin while we’re there, so a few of the meals will include extended family. And C cares about making an enjoyable meal for everyone (with only some amount of internal pressure to impress my family).
So there he was, working away, trying to figure out how to make meals that don’t take a lot of prep or fridge space (the Cabin has no electricity or running water, just a propane-fueled stove & small refrigerator), that will be yummy for both kids & adults, and that satisfy non-dairy & vegetarian appetites.
It’s not easy.
But he feels the weight of that responsibility because meals are “his thing”.
And guess what. That’s pretty awesome.
He’s also a really involved dad. Not perfect, but he’s there, present, caring, down at their level. And it’s beautiful to see their relationship developing over the years.
He has a very caring, sensitive side. He cares about social justice, about helping those less fortunate, about supporting causes we believe in. And he’s generous.
When we are out & about, he’s very equitable with his sociability, talking with anyone from the hotel staff to the head waiter as though they were his brother.
When he cares, he really cares.
I need to be careful not to focus too much on the negative or that becomes all that I see. As I sat quietly next to him instead of picking that fight, it was helpful for me to see that sometimes, being quiet is best.
I’ve been mulling over a conversation from Sunday evening, during “Family Meeting” (where C & I talk about the logistics of the week ahead, and anything else beyond the usual superficial conversation).
I think it was a minor win? And I’m going to chalk it up to the heightened awareness and continuity sobriety has given me.
Over the weekend, we invited a girlfriend of mine and her son over for dinner. It was wonderful – everyone getting along well, boys eating without prodding, and even some adult conversation mixed into the usual kid chaos. At some point, the boys said something innocent that implied something a bit disrespectful toward women. C laughed uproariously for a minute or two, in spite of the fact that my friend and I weren’t laughing along with him, then turned to me and said “You’ve lost your sense of humor.” I replied, “It reveals a side of you I don’t like.” And then we moved on past the awkwardness of that interchange.
At the end of Family Meeting, I brought it up. Quietly, gently, I brought that incident back up (he had forgotten about it) and said, “I found it disrespectful. And the fact that I didn’t laugh doesn’t mean I’m lacking in a sense of humor.”
Then, without anger (although possibly some intensity), I told him that over the years, I’ve noticed a side of him that is disrespectful toward women. And I didn’t like it. If I see any of this language or behavior in the future happening around our boys I will point it out, because I don’t want them growing up thinking that is okay.
He was noticeably angry after I said this, and following this conversation has been giving the usual cold shoulder treatment, without any followup conversation.
Everyone is a mix of good and bad, and there is nothing better than the mirror of a close relationship to reflect all of it back in our face. I know I need to get better at turning that reflection back on myself instead of focusing on his faults.
But there are times when I wonder if the pros outweigh the cons.
If it weren’t for the drinking, I would at least feel like we could have an adult conversation about it that wouldn’t get buried under a haze of alcohol. There might even be a chance of self-improvement on both of our parts!
Too hopeful? Maybe.
But we are playing Gin Rummy again, so there’s that.
Wow. It’s been over a week since I last posted. Apologies for the absence, my dear imaginary readers! Rest assured, I am still 100% sober (not counting weed).
This past week was filled with activities with the twins – camping, time with friends, cookie-baking, craft-making, swimming at the pool, and of course, beach and more beach.
All of it, especially the camping, was energy-consuming and a mix of sweetness and complete exasperation. At the campgrounds, shortly before I threw in the towel and headed home early, an older woman commented “It takes a lot of energy to camp with kids at this age!” I replied, “Good thing we only remember the good parts!” And she agreed, “So true!!”
Let’s hope that’s the case with this trip. We headed out, filled with excitement – just me & the boys for 3 days, 2 nights in my friend’s pop-up trailer at a local campground. Weather forecast looked perfect – sunny and warm, great for swimming in the 17-acre “lake”.
Then, things changed. The temperature crept up to 95 degrees, with thunderstorms predicted for our first night. We found out no swimming was allowed in the pond. And the boys, feeling the freedom of a new experience, started testing the limits.
The first day, it was just a lot of “Please come back, I can’t see you from here!” and “Please don’t hit your brother over the head with a stick”. The second day, after a restless and rain-filled night and even hotter day, the risky behavior increased and when I found myself asking them to please leave the jackknife alone already, and stop tomahawking each other with the rusty screwdriver they’d found on the campsite, having run out of the patience necessary to deal with one child running ahead while the other dragged behind (and then switching roles just to make their mom crazy), I threw an adult-sized tantrum, cried, and then packed up our stuff and headed home.
When we arrived, I was sweaty, dirty, covered in mosquito bites, frustrated and still chagrined from my earlier tantrum, and processing the idea that C would probably be saying “I told ya so” inside his head as we arrived, defeated. Given what I know of C, I also expected that he would not be helping me unload the car or unpack any of the stuff I’d pulled together for our trip, to “help me learn a lesson”.
The boys piled out of the car and ran into the respite of air-conditioning, and I started unpacking the back of the van.
In the garage, I felt it.
A pang of longing so strong it was physical, like a pulling heaviness in my chest.
What I wouldn’t do for a cold, stiff G&T right now. OMG. I wanted it so so bad.
I allowed myself to feel it fully, and even think about it a little bit.
And then I got back to unpacking, a chore that kept me plenty busy long enough for the desire to pass, and a sparkling ice water to replace it as the carrot at the end of the stick.
I haven’t had a moment like that in a long time.
Aside from all the fun we’ve had over the last week, the recent news has been weighing heavily on my mind: the immigration crisis, recent celebrity suicides, the ongoing dumpster fire of our current president’s administration. Of course, as could be expected this triggers all the usual escapist reactions, which I have been indulging in more this past week than usual, thanks to a vacation mentality. Now, it’s back to the usual routine, reserving the green for weekend use only.
One nugget to share: I felt this article on Anthony Bourdain was well-written, and am considering sharing it with C given all the similarities – not sure if he would be receptive to reading it or not:
Alcohol “works” for the alcoholic until it doesn’t. It promises and delivers what we seek from it for years, until it stops working. Yet still we want to drink like everybody else. Drinking is fun, right? It goes with culinary delights, correct? It enhances life, isn’t that so? Well, yes, and no. Certainly ultimately “no” if you have the malady, which quietly marches on and in time takes our joy, even our will to live and carry on and pretend we’re OK. We’re not OK. We are just good actors. He perhaps was one of the best. With alcoholism, we make rules by the way, to prove we have control. We also break those rules. We take life by the tail, but, dare I say, some weary of the show and let go.
Happy to report back that Friday evening dinner and Mavericks show was super fun, sans alcohol. There was a moment sitting down at the restaurant – a seaside eatery with mediterranean style entrees and excellent cocktails, where I felt a strong pang of desire. Just one fancy cocktail, to celebrate. It would taste so good, and we’re headed into a fun evening of music, would be nice to get a little buzz on… etc etc.
Then C said, “I really respect that you’ve stayed quit with this whole alcohol thing.” And that was it. No drink for me!
I’d even thought about bringing a little bud to eat before the show, but instead stayed fully sober through the whole thing. To be honest, I don’t think I missed any of it in the end – had a blast, and doubt it would have been improved with alcohol or pot.
Anywhoo – I’m busy prepping and packing for three days camping with the boys. C opted out, so his Father’s Day gift is a reprieve from the family Crazy. Off to go grocery shopping for camping food, then back to a full evening of packing.
No alcohol allowed in the family campgrounds. Of course, a rule I would have read and immediately ignored had I still been drinking. But no worries, park ranger, we’re all dry over here.
