Tonight I’m doing something I hardly ever do these days. I’m sitting in the living room watching TV by myself. Everyone else went to bed early for one reason or another, and suddenly here I am, with just the doggies for company.
A few years ago, before I started to put any effort into changing my bad habits, pretty much all of my evenings were spent this way. And that’s how I liked it. I looked forward to the time alone. And I looked forward to drinking without an audience. I’d sip and sip and sip my wine, staying up later than I intended, and sometimes finding my daughter waking me up, wondering why I wasn’t in bed. (She was probably twelve at that time.) The next day I’d check things over to see how much I’d drunk and whether or not I might have spilled. Often I would fall asleep in my chair, glass in hand. Sometimes when I’d bend down to pick something up off the floor, my long hair would end up in the glass of red wine. And then there’d be wine on my clothes, dribbles of wine here and there. I thought it was sort of funny at the time, but now it just seems sad.
Memories of those days make me realize how little understanding I had (for most of my life really) about the true nature of alcohol, how little concern I felt regarding its dangers. I think I believed I was immune to addiction. I never really considered it or took it seriously.
And now here I am, watching TV by myself, guilt free, poison free, craving free. Free.
I’m happy to have memories like this, to remind me why I quit, to paint a picture of the wasted time, to catch a glimpse of the sadness.
I remember, and I know I don’t want to go back.
Happy Sober Tuesday,