Well, those bottles of beer weren’t on any wall in my house. Nope. They were in my belly. All in the course of about five days. I haven’t been sober for long this time (last time was about 20 months), but I’m feeling pretty good about it. I’m plugging along this time with about 4 1/2 months under my shiny sparkly belt. How did I quit? I didn’t even have to try. My body just yelled “One more drink, BITCH – just one fucking more – and you’re toast.” Yeah, that did it. I heard it loud and clear.
Leaning over my bed to throw up water and having to crawl to the bathroom just didn’t appeal to me anymore. So I stopped. And now – instead of polishing off four double bottles of wine a day, every day, I hit the Elliptical for an hour, take at least one half hour walk around the neighborhood, I play with my two new kittens, I journal, I read and I fart around with my new boyfriend. And I do all this crap when I’m not working. Go figure…there’s actually plenty to keep a person occupied besides drinking himself or herself to death.
And that stuff I listed…? That’s not even the stuff I make room to do. I like to do other stuff too: color, ride my bike, go on adventures, watch Criminal Minds, go antiquing, climb trees and paint stuff…. Huh. Who’d of thunk?!