Wet February

So I decided, after an alcohol infused December, that I should partake in dry January. The premise is basically that during January there is no alcohol consumption. There are a couple of reasons why I do this. One is that that, I want to make sure that I can. Sometimes there is a fear that the “want” that I am feeling for that glass of wine is verging into “need.” One of the other reasons is that I am always ever so hopeful that if I forsake all alcohol, my caloric intake will drop to a point where I lose the winter weight that I have picked up. It is not quite up to the amount that I had gained last year and Zoned off but it is enough to make my pants uncomfortable and diggy into my sides. I don’t love it.

In case you did not know, January is a very long month. And for someone who has not experienced winter weather in more than 20 years, it seemed especially long. For me, the worst part is actually the fact that it gets dark so early. For a while, it felt like the sun was starting to set at 3:30. Is that even possible? That is what it felt like.  But we hit the darkest day in December and as the month of January progressed, it started to stay lighter longer. Today, when I go to yoga at 5:15 p.m., it is not yet dark. A joyous thing for sure.

I did really well for almost the entire month before I felt like I wanted a drink. Then, the brewery in town which had been having some sort of zoning/parking issue with town opened. And Taco Bell Thursday would roll around and I could feel myself wanting to have a beer with my meal. But I resisted because I was so close. And the month was so long. To go for so long and then not actually make it seemed not right. So I hung in there.

I made it all the way through. Someone asked if I feel differently. But I don’t. Maybe my pants fit a teeny tiny bit better. But I won’t say that because then it won’t be true. I’m happy that I could do it. I’m happy that I could stop and stay stopped. That I could say no. I worry for my son with alcoholism on both sides. I worry that he will start and not be able to stop. He knows that he has a toxic gene mix. We have discussed it. it makes him wary of drinking. I like that.

I sipped some white wine when I wrote this and had some beer during the Super Bowl. I am getting a ride so as not to put myself or anyone else in danger. And while I can stop. I can see the draw of not doing so. I know that when I have bit of wine in me that it takes the edge off. That it makes the worry fade into forgetfulness. And I like it. I can’t lie. So I feel like I have the potential. That potential to go off the rails. And because of that, when I made it through dry January, it really did feel like a triumph. As silly as that may sound. But everyone’s triumphs are different. They are all measured by different standards. And that is mine.

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About nematomorph

Living like the rich and famous, splitting time between Hawaii and New York.
This entry was posted in drinking, midlife crisis, New York, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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