It didn’t take long for me to realize something about me and alcohol.
I think I felt the first inkling around 8:30 on Thursday night, when I was being pulled in four directions. Should I finish decorating M’s Valentine’s box? Should I bathe Michael and get him into bed? Should I answer this email from work (yes, at 8:30 p.m.)? Should I help Kate with her homework?
I’m not going to lie — when M whined at me that he didn’t want to take a bath, I cried a little tiny bit.
By the time Friday night dinner rolled around, and I was on the verge of an acute anxiety attack, it hit home.
I KNOW WHY I DRINK ALCOHOL, Y’ALL!
I am an anxious person. I have jagged edges and a short temper. Relaxing is not easy for me, and neither is being chill when I am placing a host of demands upon myself.
A drink — and I mean A SINGLE DRINK, even a single sip of a single drink — rounds my edges. It makes me feel smoother internally. It slows me down enough to give me space to not lose my shit in anger.
A beer, a glass of wine, help me relax. (Admittedly, the cocktail after the children go to bed is more ritual and something for me to share with Dan.)
I am not going to lie: I have been struggling since Thursday. To relax. To be patient.
It’s not really going well.
I am concentrating on some other things to help me: meditation; yoga; writing. These rituals and practices do help — they do. But they also take time. I cannot do a 10-15 minute guided meditation while I am cooking dinner.
My practice during Lent has always been to go the whole time from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday making the sacrifice (or adding the practice — I have added a daily rosary, meditation, etc., in other years). As in the past, it has been pointed out to me that Sunday, technically, one does not have to make the Lenten sacrifice (h/t to my Uncle Ron for pointing out this article).
I am seriously considering for the first time indulging in my voluntary sacrifice on Sunday. I am thinking about a big glass of red wine today. Just one. Probably with dinner. Or soon after dinner.
(FTR: Dan bathed Michael, and I put M to bed. Kate finished M’s Valentine’s day box. I did answer that email, and I helped Kate with her homework.)
I have never made it a secret that I am dependent on alcohol — I knew that going into Lent. I did not realize HOW dependent. Like, seriously a-nicer-person-with-that-daily-dose dependent.
And I have to work through that. In a big way.
Starting again tomorrow.
Ever give something up and realize it was a big fat mistake?