Day 25: Mixology

I was taken aback this evening to realize the tasty mocktail I felt clever and smug for inventing is, in fact, a Shirley Temple. 

Aside from the revelation that I’m not a genius mixologist, life is sort of fine. I’m in some kind of liminal stage where sobriety is starting to feel like my default setting, but thinking ahead too many years or even days is still enough to panic me. Even then, though, my mind seems to be responding in new ways. Driving to work this morning, for instance, I suddenly thought ‘Wait, so I have to be sober every day for the rest of my life?’ And in the next second I thought ‘Would you rather drink a whole bottle of wine every night for the rest of your life? Because that was making you miserable.’ It’s thinking-in-extremes, of course–I’m prone to that–but I know which of the two ends of the spectrum I prefer. 

Funny–even while typing this entry, I had a moment of awe and pride–25 days!–followed closely by fatigue and a little fear–‘it’s only been 25 days?!’. So yeah, like I was saying: I’m living in the liminal plane these days. But that’s okay. The light is good here, and there’s space and time to think.  

Warning: Alanis Morissette Coming At You

I apologize in advance for quoting Alanis Morissette at you. I’d like to think of myself as someone who quotes Lydia Davis at you instead, and if she ever has anything fucking useful to say about sobriety, maybe I will. But in the meantime–you know that song ‘Thank You’? Where she’s telling herself to get off antibiotics and remember her divinity and whatever else? I know you know what I’m talking about–I bet we were even wearing the same raisin-colored lipstick back then, missy! Well, that line ‘the moment I jumped off of it was the moment I touched down’–as of day 16, that’s what being sober feels like to me, most of the time. So much fear. Years of it. And then the distance from there to here was just not nearly as far as it seemed.