A Solid Pinch Does the Job

For demonstration purposes only!

To prevent myself from smelling and tasting my leftover warm wine in the mornings, I would pinch the lower part of my nose until I’d swallowed my sip. By the time I’d moved into the nose pinch of my drinking career, I was also NEVER throwing out alcohol – no matter how long it’d been sitting around. I learned when I was young that pinching my nose closed would allow me to eat nasty food. Sometimes, our stepmother would feed us disgusting meals for dinner, like French Onion soup. I was so disgusted by this stuff, I would actually gag. Remember those days? Gagging on nasty food? Good God almighty it was vile.

As an adult, I employed this practice of pinching off my nose so that I could swallow any leftover wine from the night before. I usually only did this when my withdrawals were so bad, I felt too uncomfortable to walk into the kitchen for some ice. Ice makes every liquid go down better (unless it’s supposed to be hot) – just for the record.

The days of having to pinch off my nose arrived during the later stage of my alcoholic career. By then, I needed to consume at least two entire (small) bottles of wine before I could feel “normal” enough to do much of anything except visit the bathroom, I’d learned long before this the value of keeping a television in the bedroom. Wine and cable = the perfect distraction from withdrawal until a coping BAC of .2 was attained.

When I remember how I used to start my days, it feels like a bad dream. Today, I’m sitting at my desk, drinking coffee, listening to my kittens play, and watching the sun make it’s way up into the sky through the trees in my backyard. It’s glorious.

4 October 2020 ~ Off the back porch.

Published by Jennifer

I've finally found my happy place in sobriety. Yay! Go Me!

4 thoughts on “A Solid Pinch Does the Job

  1. For me it was liver and onions. I would start crying the minute I smelled it cooking. My parents could give two shits. We would have to sit there until everything was gone. Sometimes that meant 2-3 hours, alone at the table, sobbing and choking it down.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ugh. I can soooo identify with that. It was just brutal wasn’t it? I bet you never make your own kids eat that stuff. Liver and onions sounds really awful. Thank God those days are behind us, eh?

      Liked by 1 person

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