I’m surprised by how little I crave alcohol. As in, I never crave it. I haven’t really missed it at all. The one day I was being a baby and contemplating the bar was not based in craving, it was based on ‘I want some fried cheese and a cocktail would be nice to numb these intense feelings I’m having at the moment’.
Maybe the cravings will hit me later, but then again, maybe I’m done. Time will tell I suppose. Right now I do feel very strong about my sober year. I had a meeting the other day at The Parlor in Phoenix. We sat at the wood planked bar while she drank a glass of white wine and I had iced water. I was fine. Truly fine. It didn’t phase me to watch her sip her wine or stir up any wants or needs for alcohol. I felt at peace with my inner drunk.
Now don’t take that as ‘I’m better than others because I don’t drink’. That’s laughable. I don’t feel like that at all. We all have our own path to walk, and while booze is included in some walks, it isn’t in mine right now. I have some shame about not being able to control my drinking. It’s embarrassing and hard to admit that I was drinking myself to death. That I was finishing half a bottle of vodka a night, and truthfully there were a few days in there when I finished a whole bottle by myself. I can count them on one hand luckily, but that fact is still out there.
I’ll save the shame talk/post for another time. I’m heading to Patagonia State Park tomorrow for an overnight camping trip. I’ll be missing my day 10 post unless I get up early and write it before I leave. Not likely though.
Have a great weekend!