So Friday night rolls around now and I don't really think about having a drink, I mean I do kind of think about having a drink, in a 'isn't it interesting that I'm not hankering for a drink' kind of thinking about drinking way. So I'm not not thinking about it. I'm thinking about it, but not in a struggling-thinking way.
Great writing there but you get my drift.
Quick check and I'm 158 days sober. My first day sober was September 6 so March 6 will be six months. Oh. I thought I was nearly 6 months. I've been telling people that I'm six months sober. But now I see it's only just over 5 months. That's a bit deflating. But irrelevant I suppose. I keep reading other people's blogs and they're celebrating 2 years and I always WISH that I was two years sober.
I've also kept reading that the 6 month mark is a tough one for some reason. So I'll brace myself for that. I would love to be floating on a pink cloud like I was a few months back. Where I felt so clever and special and invincible and Happy! to have kicked the drink. Now my steady state is proud but low key. Humble and a bit ...flat? No, not flat. Low-key, that's all.
But there's nofuckingway I'm going to drink. Just to make that clear.
My new fancy hairdresser (lovely woman but the salon oh-so-trendy and the prices!!! Yikes!!!) offered me a glass of wine on Thursday and I said no thanks with a smile and then momentarily felt really boring. Normally with friends or acquaintances I'd launch in with an explanation about how I'd kicked the drink with well-worn lines like 'I was just finding it harder and harder to control so thought I'd remove it altogether' and 'I was a real boozer but I'm so much happier now'. But at the salon that wasn't really appropriate so I was just left with the feeling of being someone who turned down a treaty glass of wine at 4.15pm on a Thursday. She'd asked with such a cheeky, fun air too.
Love, Mrs D xxx