Two days ago I reached my 90 days sober. Of course I wanted to write a blog post on that day, but our ultra-fast-fibre network decided to throw a hissy fit and left me stranded without internet the whole weekend. Me!! Without internet!!
So, I missed my 90 day milestone post.
Hello 92 days. Still feels good. I'm so calm. Rested. Ah, the sleep I'm getting!! I'm out like a light long before midnight and sleep like a log until well after 7 (or until the alarm goes off).
I'm dealing with a bit of a curve ball at the moment, since my dear husband (DH) managed to fall off a ladder and broke his hip. That was 3 1/2 weeks ago. I drove behind the ambulance that took him to the ER on the Friday night. Note that I was still able to drive on a Friday night, an unthinkable situation only a few months earlier.
I was able to speak with paramedics, doctors and nurses and the next day I remembered what we talked about. I stayed with him until 3 am, until there was really nothing I could do to help him feel better.
Over the following days I was up early, without any hangovers or other after-drinking effects, got my busy days sorted, what with the kids, work, the house, the hospital visits and all. In the evenings I stayed with DH in the hospital until he settled in for the night. I was calm and peaceful.
Compare that to ...
... a few years ago, DH had an accident that put him in hospital for a few weeks. A year later he was in hospital again for a few days to get something fixed. Those times I could not wait to get back home when I visited him. I was impatient, inwardly drumming my fingers through every minute of every visit, because each minute I spent in hospital was a minute I'd rather be drinking but I could not. And I would have been drinking if only I could be home. I resented that he kept me from getting my alcohol fix. After all, the coast was clear at home. He was not there, obviously, so I could drink more freely at home. Pizza for the kids delivered to the door instead of picking it up. I could drink while waiting for the pizza, not while picking it up. Alcohol supply sorted every day on my way from work. Empties stashed in the car or even in the recycling bin. Hiding not required, because there was nobody to hide it from.
I'd drag myself out of bed in the mornings, barked at the kids, felt crappy during the days. After work, I would try not to get over the limit when loading up before my evening visit with DH. I would avoid coming too close to him, so he would not smell the alcohol on my breath. I would find excuses to go home as early as possible and then all the stops came out.
I was an awful caregiver. Only thinking about my drinking, hating myself and my behaviour, resenting him for needing me, for keeping me away from alcohol, for coming home and taking my alcoholic freedom away again.
How different it is this time. I am no longer a slave of the beast called addiction. The witch has stopped whispering into my ear. I am content and peaceful without alcohol. I have energy to burn. At any time of day or night I can climb behind a steering wheel and help my family and friends. I have patience and keep a positive mood, despite the challenges.
Throughout the last three weeks I have consciously thought about what would happen if I would have a drink in this situation or that situation, playing through the scenarios. I could not find a single aspect of the last few weeks that would have been better with me drunk.
Nothing is better drunk. There is not a single situation in my life that can be improved by me drinking alcohol. And I'm glad I don't have to anymore.
Thanks for reading.