Sunday
As the boys nap and I prepare for an afternoon of football and beers with friends, I’m examining my resolve again. And last night’s post about this being My Own Journey is holding fast.
We’re having friends over who we’re close with, and who we’ve drank with many, many times (in fact, almost every time except for our beach time with these folks). And so far, they are the only friends who have questioned my decision to not drink.
Thankfully, there hasn’t been pressure to drink, but their initial reactions are in the back of my mind while I steel myself for an afternoon surrounded by beer and good cheer.
My decision to quit was based on my own internal struggles with alcohol, something no one, not even my husband, felt or saw externally. I was drowning. Alcohol was sucking my soul away, taking away the best of me and making the precious years of my boys’ infancy and youth Less Than. No one knew that better than I.
But externally? I was able to drink socially and then drive home, visibly “sober”. I was a success at work and at home. I was cheerful, present, pulled-together, and only occasionally visibly hung-over. I’m not sure they would say they’d ever seen me really drunk (although they had). But it was the internal landscape that mattered in the end.
And I don’t feel the need to explain that to anyone at this point.
So I’ll happily join in the fun this afternoon, sipping a seltzer or a fancy juice (the latest sounds disgusting but is actually rather awesome: pineapple, lime, kale, cucumber and parsley). And if asked about my choice, I’ll just say – For me, life is better without!
An article with a similar perspective, “They say my drinking wasn’t bad, but it was”