"You're really doing this? WHY?"
I've heard that a lot lately.
"Wow--I don't think I could EVER do that."
That's another comment I've gotten a lot.
A lot of the reactions that I've gotten have been entertaining. Some have gasped. Others have recoiled in horror, like they had just witnessed me grow a second nose. A couple have just stared, then laughed and said "You're joking, right?"
For Christ's sake, people.
I gave up alcohol for two months. It's not like I'm attempting something impossible like running or becoming a vegetarian.
Truthfully it started off as a joke of sorts. I think I first declared that I was going to not drink while doing shots at a bar with friends. My friends laughed and a few wished me good luck. They didn't think I could do it.
When people don't think I can do something, a piece of me snaps. In a good way. It launches me into a frenzy of girl power that would make each and every Spice Girl proud because my mantra becomes Fuck it--I can do anything. This is what happened at the moment when I announced my choice.
So really? This non-drinking thing started out of spite.
It's since become something far different than an I'll-show-them spectacle.
In the past 36 days, my life has taken on a roller coaster ride that could rival a Dickens plot--in my humble drama queen opinion. My mom had a skin cancer scare (she's since gotten negative results); my car has acted up and, uh, gotten hit; my job has turned into something I hadn't expected; I've sort of turned into something I hadn't expected. If these things had happened a couple of months ago, I'd have reached for my beloved Malibu at every little bump. Or I'd at least have gotten happily toasted at the first (and second and third...) opportunity that I had.
But I can't. And somewhere in the past 30-odd days, this goal has went from being a pain in my ass to being a saving grace.
My dad was an alcoholic for many years. He would drink himself into a frenzy and then hurt my mom in more ways than one. While he's been in AA for more than twenty years, he still feels the ghosts of his alcoholism. He wasn't happy with his life so he drank. And he's not happy with his life now because he's haunted by what he did when he drank.
While I'm not thrilled about where I am in my life right now, I can at least look myself in the mirror and know that I'm not hiding behind alcohol or any other vice. (Unless you count writing.) I can look myself in the eye and know that I'm facing my problems on my own. (And with the help of my loved ones, of course. But I digress...)
And that fact is the most empowering thing that I have ever done. To know that I have made this goal for myself and that I'm accomplishing it in the face of adversity is one of the most amazing things ever.
I joke about not being able to drink during this cruddy period of my life. But honestly, I'm thankful that I'm not drinking. I don't want to hide behind a vice. I want to make it through this on my own. I want to make it to my birthday and feel amazing because I set out to accomplish something that a lot of people didn't think could happen.
And, happily, it's getting easier by the moment. The first week was the roughest because it magically was the first time when people felt the urge to be generous and buy rounds of beer and shots. The bitter taste of that fact melted when people commented that I look slimmer, better, somehow. Being the girl I am, I stored those compliments away to use as fuel to keep me going towards the goal. The little victories keep me going. It helped last night while at a friend's house. He had a wet bar that could be any one of my friends' alcoholic wet dream. As he mixed shot after shot, drink after drink, I just thought it's ok--I can do anything, and smiled as I refused his concoctions.
Ciao, dahling!
~*Krissy*~