Booze. Hooch. Sauce. Spirits. A bit of the hard stuff, and maybe a cock-and-tail or three. This time two weeks ago, I was in three or four deep by 11am. And given all of the public health alphabet agencies have mandated binge drinking in women as having four or more drinks in two-three hours? I was binge drinking daily.
But I was tired. And I saw my future as more of the same. And after watching HBO’s Risky Drinking, I decided I was ready to change. And as my followers know, this whole crazy endeavor was borne of that choice.
My goal was to teach myself to drink again – to enjoy a glass of wine or a cocktail every now and again and have the ability to remember what followed. No more slamming shots with friends, no more unknown bruising the following day, no more Dude, where’s my car?
So, here I am, just eight days later and feeling pretty fucking good about myself. I knew well enough that I wouldn’t be plagued by any of the backlash One’s body throws at them when forced into deprivation. I was not that far gone – a long ways out, although possibly walking that path.
Like anyone else, my life was made up of habits – some self-serving, others not so much. My most destructive habit was to drink after my bookkeeping tasks were completed and I was clocked off, as early as 9am – opening time, conveniently. While the culpability is my own, removing myself from the environment that was Maxwell’s – one of my very favorite places on earth – was a great decision toward getting my brain back to drinking responsibly.
So, as soon as it may appear to some, in the last week, both responsibly and without anxiety of any sort, I have drank alcohol. I was with a dear friend, which helped me be accountable, although I didn’t call that out as her charge. But, beyond the awesome conversation with someone I love, it assisted me in keeping myself in check, specifically being aware of how quickly I drank a beer. And as I expected it to last the entire meal, I was unwilling to order myself a second. So I slowed the hell down. And when I finished eating, I still had beer in my glass. Win.
Of course, I don’t expect that’s it, that things are always just this easy – after all, it’s been less than two weeks since I got all-out trashed. But I am very aware that my habits dictate my actions, and so far I’m doing pretty good at modifying those habits. Through that transformation of thought and behavior, I expect my actions to follow, taking me places both literally and figuratively as I zoom down the trail I’m blazing in my Mini Cooper.
Also, as for this entry’s title… I don’t know. Guess I really wanted to share this pic. I sure miss my Maxwell’s home! 🙂