Day 37. Despite dealing with more vomiting Redlets, I’m feeling chipper. Stronger antibiotics are (fingers and toes crossed) warding off the chest-infection which has been dogging my steps for the last three weeks. I’m reasonably prepared for the big event, my fridge is bursting with cheese and cold meats, which makes me very happy. I have some special drinks which actually have glitter in them. (Yes folks, I’m going to be literally shitting glitter in a few days. Seriously, can you get any more festive than that??)
Occasionally, I feel a pang, miss the fine wine, feel like something is wrong. But I can stand outside myself and ask the question “would pouring ethanol down my throat and getting inebriated improve this??”. No Red, it fucking wouldn’t, and you know where that ends. Real life is not like the adverts.
When I look at the children, I feel a simmering, child-like excitement myself. I’m here, in it, experiencing it, not the absent, shattered mess of old.
Yes, admittedly I’m eating mince pies and mainlining coffee for breakfast, but I’ve got all of next year to start looking at my food habits. I know this will balance itself out, so I’m letting myself indulge, safe in the knowledge that I’m winning st the moment just by not drinking.
SoberMummy’s post this morning containing the link to all those transformed, fresh, happy sober people gave me a huge lift. Maybe one day I’ll post my before and after photo’s. For now, I’m an anonymous, but happy,