Peanuts, Cracker Jacks and a Diet Coke

Apparently, today was for sleeping. It is currently 3:30 pm, and I just woke up. I feel fantastic.

It's been a while since my last entry in the sobriety chronicles, mostly because I was back to drinking. I was still better, drinking less, drinking more self-consciously, but I was drinking. I had one night a couple of weeks ago when I stayed at the bar until 4:30 am, having nursed both of my addictions (men and booze). I had been working, but got off my shift around 11, when I sat down with a cute boy and had a few beers. Meanwhile, when I went outside to smoke a cigarette, the bartender followed me out and we made out among the broken concrete and dumpsters in the back of the bar. Then I would return to my barstool and continue chatting with the cute boy while the bartender kept my glass full. In the middle of all of this, my comfortable, safe f*ck-buddy friend came in and hung out for a while. So, I felt drunk and attractive. Just the way I like it. The boys left when the bar closed, and then it was just me and the bartender for the next few hours. Good times. Until the next morning.

The next morning after a night like this leaves me somewhat giddy and somewhat exhausted. I get swept up on a wave of potential sexual or romantic possibilities (one day, perhaps sexual and romantic will actually overlap). I recall feeling so wanted, and frankly, making out with the bartender in the cool breeze outside, hiding from everyone, was pretty damn sexy. But as the alcohol wears off completely, it leaves me vulnerable to the real feelings that I work so hard to avoid. It was a warm day, and I was sweating out the booze through my pores, and my body felt sticky and gross, and my eyes just wanted to shut. But I was back at the bar, working a double, somehow finding the will power to push through and get those Guinness out to the customers despite wanting more than anything to just crawl into bed in an air conditioned room.

The path to a lifetime of sobriety doesn't begin suddenly. At least, not for me. Nothing begins suddenly. Change takes time. I had this night about 3 weeks ago, and since then, I have only had one other booze soaked evening, but it was far less dramatic. This is improvement. This is what they call "harm reduction," or "bullshit," depending on who you talk to (the idea of "harm reduction" is not one that is embraced in AA).

The reason I slept until 3 pm today is that I have been waking up every day this week at 6:30 am to get to an AA meeting from 7-8 am. My day then begins, and I have been getting so much done by 2ish that I've had time to make short trips to the beach, lying on the sand near the ocean and contemplating my higher power. A couple of days ago, I sat down to write after a meeting, and my pen ran out of ink. I was scribbling furiously, licking the ballpoint tip, trying to get it to work, since it was my only pen and I was in a cafe. Sarcastically, I thought to myself, "Higher power, please make my pen work!" and lo and behold, the ink began to flow. A small miracle for a godless girl.

Last night, I went to a baseball game, and I was steeled for the challenge of refusing the $8 pints of Budweiser, but I was also thinking, "well, so what if I do? Change is slow. Forgive yourself." But I had talked about it at the meeting that morning. I had received the support of the women, all recovering alcoholics, all with their own unique suggestions of how to stay sober, and all saying, "call me." One woman said that one of her techniques at the beginning was to think of returning to the meeting the next morning and being able to announce that she had, indeed, stayed sober. I think this was what did it for me. I didn't want to get out of bed this morning, but I wanted to get to that meeting and I wanted to say to those women, "I did it! Thank you." And that's what I did. Then I biked my butt home, crawled back into bed, and slept until 3 pm, waking up in a terrific mood. This is new. This is a step. I may be becoming a convert. Slowly.