“Click!”

There’s a popular children’s book series about a girl detective nicknamed, “Cam” Jansen. “Cam” is short for “Camera,” because when she encounters the scene of a crime, she says, “Click. Click. Click,” as she takes mental pictures of each clue.

Stay with me here – there’s a point to this obscure reference.

I’ve reached another milestone in my life: the youngest of our granddaughters will start Kindergarten this coming week, bringing almost five years of two-days-per-week childcare to an end. Since she was born, we have spent more concentrated time with her than any of our other grandchildren. We certainly don’t love her more than our other granddaughters, but partly because we’ve spent so much time with her, and the fact that she’s “the last of the line,” we have really focused on wringing every drop out of the time we have with her.

While the others have been in school, we’ve had the opportunity to take her to the zoo, children’s museum, out to breakfast, on visits to my elderly aunt, grocery shopping, long walks in the neighborhood… you get the idea. None of these outings were anything exceptional for her, and she may not even remember many of them. But our memories of special time spent with her are crystalline. We’ve been extraordinarily fortunate to know that this concentrated time with her had a definite “end date,” and have mostly succeeded in making the most of it.

So I’ve spent the last several months taking pictures with my mind: Impromptu sleepover? “Click.” Teaching her how to crack eggs for her breakfast? “Click.” Snuggling while she watches her favorite funny animal videos on YouTube? “Click.” Hiding during a game of Hide and Seek and when found, whispering, “Boo,” to her delighted shriek of terror? “Click.”

The last five years have been at times thrilling, challenging, hilarious, exhausting, and mostly, fun. She is a sunny, bright, curious little girl and I cannot wait to see what her future holds.

Or mine, for that matter. We’ll still do child care for her and three of our other granddaughters a couple of afternoons a week, and I’ll still shop for and visit my elderly aunt weekly… but the rest of the time? Who knows?

It’ll be fun to figure it out!

A Very Fond (and sober A/F) Farewell

Well, friends…. This will be my final blog post due to a couple of factors. One is that, after almost eleven years of sobriety,  I feel like there’s nothing new for me to contribute to the sobersphere. Another is that this site has started charging its contributors, and it’s just not worth it for me to pay for a service I only use once or twice a year.

My life is, as a whole, wonderful – but it’s been very “lifey” of late.

This past spring my husband and I took a much-anticipated west coast cruise. It was a wonderful experience. Unfortunately, upon arriving home, the proverbial wheels fell off the bus. I tested positive for Covid – and in rapid succession, my husband did; we both had a mild case and felt better within a few days. Then we both started to feel lousy again, which resulted in a severe (and very scary) bout of pneumonia and subsequent hospitalization for him, and a nasty bronchial infection for me. Just as we were both getting back to normal, I noticed something funky on his scalp which had to be biopsied (insert several days of anxiety here) which was ultimately found to be nothing to worry about.

Throw in some other health and family stressors and – you get the picture.  Remember the old, “Calgon – take me away!” commercial? Yeah. That about sums it up.

But this old girl has learned a few new coping mechanisms over the past several years, which I dust off and apply every time the going gets rough. I still crave peace and quiet at home; it recharges my battery more than just about anything else. Our youngest  granddaughter will start school in September so we’ll have more discretionary time to play with. Exercise will most likely fill some of that void. As for the rest – who knows? It’ll be fun to figure that out.

I’m looking forward to having more freedom to do what I please when I please with whom I please.

Life is good.

Thanks for walking with me on this strange and wonderful journey…. I wish all of you a happy, serene, fulfilling life!

Ten. Whole. YEARS!

Dearest Gentle Reader,

Yes, I’ve binge-watched all the seasons of Bridgerton. Highly recommend. Now back to our regularly scheduled program…

Ten years ago, the morning after a typical evening that included wine with dinner and a big fat martini while watching “Masters of Sex,” I woke up, regretting my choices the night before, for what seemed like the 147,000^th time. The worst Groundhog Day ever.

I experienced an otherworldly moment that I can only describe as metaphysical. Spiritual, without being religious. It was as if I could see the trajectory of my drinking, from the time I was 16 into my old age.  And the projection into the future was what terrified me. I could feel, right down to the marrow of my bones, that I absolutely, irrevocably, permanently – had to walk away from alcohol. Forever. It was absolutely a matter of life or death.

So I did. I made the decision to quit and never looked back. It was absolutely the most terrifying, dizzying, freeing, joyful, heartbreaking choice I’ve ever made. I chose a freefall into a life I’d never experienced over the security of doing something I’d known and loved for my entire adult life. Drinking for me was a whole lot of fun until it wasn’t. It was the solution to every problem until it became the problem. It caused me untold hours of anxiety, and the only way to quiet the noise in my brain was to consume more of it.

Did I drink every day? No. Did I experience a DUI, job loss, marriage or relationship damage because of it? Also no. But it was adding absolutely nothing good to my life. It was taking far more than it was giving.

It took about a year before I felt comfortable in my new skin. The second year was easier, and I focused on my mental and physical health. I got into talk therapy to address some complicated relationship issues with my mother, and physical therapy for some nagging issues I’d neglected.

After year three, sobriety just became part of who I am. My mindset had shifted from feeling “other than,” to feeling like a superhero – subversive and more than a little like a badass.

I honestly could not have successfully stayed sober without the love and support of my husband. He was willing to help in any way I needed – including not drinking at home – if that’s what it took. He has been my biggest champion and cheerleader. My daughters, both in long-term recovery from addiction themselves, cheered me every step of the way.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying my life is perfect. It’s wonderful, to be sure: a loving husband, three great kids who are happy and settled and productive, and six granddaughters that I’m over the moon for. But I’m not perfect. I have fallen away from regular exercise and need to get back to it. Somehow, I cannot make myself do it. Life is full of unexpected twists and turns, and my life is no different.  But I know as sure as I know my name – that alcohol would add absolutely nothing positive to any challenge life might present to me.

I’m a better wife, mother, grandmother, and all-around human being without it. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for me.

Nine Years!

It’s been an entire year since I’ve posted here – and what a year it’s been!

My life as a retiree, to a great extent, doesn’t resemble what I’d envisioned. What’s the saying? “Man plans and God laughs….”  Well. SOMEBODY’S laughing.

An average week for me (along with my wonderful, supportive, true partner and helpmate of a husband) consists of a great deal of childcare. Keep in mind that we’re forty years older now than we were when we embarked on the adventure of parenthood. And folks – we’re TIRED. We absolutely adore all our granddaughters; but at the end of the day, I’m done. Done. And I allow myself to sit on my butt and veg out while catching up on the news instead of hustling into the kitchen to figure out what to make for dinner.  That, my friends, is self-care.

I had written about the desire to find some kind of hobby to pursue, and I have. I signed up for an online watercolor course and have completed about half of it. The trick is scrounging up the energy to pick up a paintbrush at the end of the day.

My husband and I know that this time in our granddaughters’ lives is precious and fleeting. We will have our “freedom” in a couple of years, as it appears that our 6^th grandchild will be the last of the line. We plan to wring every drop of enjoyment out of the next two years.

We also take very good care of ourselves and get away for little trips as often as we can manage it. I’ve got no complaints.

Sobriety for me is like a comfortable favorite sweater: I don’t go anywhere without it. Sobriety has delivered on everything that booze promised. I have learned to care very little about what others think of me. I have learned to honor my boundaries and defend them fiercely. I’ve learned how to sit in uncomfortable feelings secure in the knowledge that they will pass. Hopefully, I’m kinder and more patient with those I love. And one of the very best gifts of sobriety is taking immense pleasure – no, joy – in the most mundane of moments.

It’s almost unbelievable that it’s been nine years since I took my last drink – and even more impossible to wrap my mind around how little I miss it.

Life is immeasurably better. My busy busy brain has stopped obsessing about alcohol. My relationships are deeper and more authentic. I have peace of mind. I’m happy and content, and most of the time, pretty damn serene.

On to year 10!

Eight Year Soberversary

Hello, friends. It’s been a long, long, time since I last posted. Life is moving so fast! I’ve been retired for two years but seem to be busier than ever. We have six granddaughters now; we babysit the youngest two days a week, and spend as much time as we can with the rest of them. I have an elderly aunt that I grocery shop for and spend time with one day a week… and play “catch up” in my free time.
In some ways I feel that my life has come full-circle; thirty years ago I was a stay-at-home mom with little ones under foot. Fast forward to 2022 – I find myself in a very similar situation. I’m so grateful to be able to be such a big part of my granddaughters’ lives, but struggle to find “me” time.
My husband has, once again, been my biggest support and advocate. He has suggested – no, insisted – that we create a space for me to explore whatever hobby that sparks my soul…. We spent a great deal of time in the basement over the winter: purging, cleaning, reorganizing – all to carve out a craft area for me. Now I have to pick a hobby!
Long story short, as crazy and chaotic and stressful as life can be – drinking to cope is no longer on my radar. I barely remember the sad, scared, anxious woman I was eight years ago. I wish I could have seen how much better life would be without alcohol. I would’ve quit twenty years earlier.
Well, I’m off to prepare for a sleepover with three of those granddaughters, so I’ll end this update here.
On to year 9!

Wow – It’s Been a While!

Hello there, friends – so much has happened since my last blog post.

First of all, granddaughter #6 arrived safely at the end of August. My youngest daughter was induced and narrowly avoided having to undergo a C-section. Her sweet babe is another precious gift. We are loving watching our baby blossom as a new mother. She is handling the challenges in her life like the true bad ass warrior she is.

I have celebrated another sober birthday – my eighth! My husband planned a day full of treats and surprises. It was a wonderful day.

So here’s what’s rolling around in my brain lately….

We’ve applied for a life insurance policy with a long-term care rider. The application process was involved and arduous, and included detailed questions about our medications, surgeries, and lifestyle habits.

We applied for a similar policy five years ago but the coverage was denied due to the fact that my husband had been treated for prostate cancer (successfully, thank the Universe) and wasn’t quite five years cancer-free.

So. Several questions were asked about tobacco use. My husband is a seasonal cigar smoker, and so there was much discussion about that.

But get this: not one – ONE – question was asked about alcohol use. Not one! What the hell?

So then I go for my annual checkup. The nurse asks me about a jillion questions regarding my coffee consumption: how many cups per day, how many cups of regular, how many decaf, blah blah blah…… Really? Really???

I was never asked such detailed questions about my drinking habits, by any doctor, ever.

Hey – I don’t know if any health care professionals will read this, but – you need to ask more and different questions about your patients’ relationship with alcohol.

Asking how many drinks per week consumed is simply put, not nearly enough. First of all, your patients very likely fudge that number. I know I did.

I humbly suggest you think about asking:

• Do you ever feel uncomfortable or worry about how much you drink?

• Has anyone ever expressed concern about your drinking?

• Do you bargain with yourself about when /how much you can drink?

• Do you make rules about your drinking (i.e., only on weekends, only wine or beer, etc.)?

• Do you drink when you’re happy or upset or bored, or all of the above?

I can’t tell you how many articles I’ve read about women developing alcohol-related health issues during the pandemic. I’m so grateful that I quit before then.

I’d likely be in real trouble if I hadn’t.

Has it Been 2,455 Days Already?

Hey, friends…. So much has happened since my last post.

Do you want the good news, the bad news, or the even better news first?

Good news? OK. I’ll start there.

Well. The good news is that grand baby #6 is due in August. Our younger daughter is expecting her first, a girl, in August. This is something she’s wanted for a long, long time. We were over the moon when she told us a few days after Christmas. The pregnancy is going well except for a nasty case of sciatica, which is making our poor daughter extremely uncomfortable.

The bad news is that about six weeks after the pregnancy announcement, the marriage imploded in a dramatic and irrevocable way. ‘Nuf said. She has been left to navigate first-time parenthood and single parenthood alone. We’ve been there for her through rage and betrayal and heartbreak and profound sadness.

Here’s the even better news: in three short months, she’s worked hard to accept what’s happened and has begun to make a plan for herself and her daughter. She has chosen to focus on what she has, instead of what she doesn’t. She has a career she finds fulfilling, a loving and supportive family, and a determination to co-parent with her ex in a functional and – dare I say – amicable way. I am amazed by her strength and resilience and wicked sense of humor, every single day.

But, friends…. I haven’t craved escape so much since I quit drinking almost seven years ago.

Not through difficulties at work.

Not through my other daughter’s miscarriage.

Not through my mother’s final illness and death.

Dealing with the shock of the marriage ending along with being a sounding board and shoulder to cry on for our daughter….. pushed me to my limit. I told my husband that I likened myself to an emotional sponge. But sponges have a saturation point and I felt I could not take ONE. MORE. THING. It was very, very hard.

I didn’t drink. I didn’t want to, either. But I did crave escape.

So how did I handle it, you ask?

Well. I listened to my inner voice. The one that told me to go easy on myself. The one that said to cut back on “have to” and instead, pay attention to “want to.” I gave myself as many opportunities to be quiet and still and “unplug” from the world as I could. If it didn’t absolutely have to be done, I didn’t do it. My sweet husband scheduled a couple’s massage for us after I mentioned that I felt my shoulders and neck were turning to stone from the stress. I let myself feel my feelings, instead of pushing them away. That’s something I still have to work hard on.

And you know what? We’re all going to be just fine. More than fine. And my sober muscles are stronger than ever. We can do hard things. Stone cold sober.

Seventh Sober Birthday

Friends! It’s been far too long. I recently celebrated my seventh birthday since quitting drinking. How I remember the first one…

It was a “special” birthday and I was not quite two months sober. My husband had made reservations at one of the swankiest restaurants in town. The maitre d strode to our table, brandishing two flutes of champagne. “I understand this is a special occasion,” he beamed. His smile disappeared when I blurted, “I don’t drink!”

Insert awkward silence..

Fast forward to today. If I knew then what I know now, I would have smiled graciously, thanked him warmly, and simply left the glass untouched.

Early sobriety is often like the first encounter: uncomfortable. Strange. Anxiety-provoking.

This year we had a socially-distanced dinner at a small Italian restaurant, just the two of us. After we were seated, the hostess placed two glasses of prosecco on the table. I smiled and slid the glass over to my husband without skipping a beat. No big whoop.

The point I’m trying to make is that time and continuous, uninterrupted days of sobriety are the key to getting comfortable with your new way of life. Not gonna lie – it’s tough at first. Weird. Strange. Uncomfortable at times. But I promise you – with time and practice, it gets easier and easier and easier.

And somewhere along the way, you’ll transform. Transform from someone who’s scared and angry and lost – to someone who’s proud of the person she sees in the mirror. You’ll morph into a badass who refuses to conform to society’s insistence that you need booze to enjoy life.

The rewards of staying sober and present in your life are myriad and wondrous. The simplest joys are elevated exponentially when you’re paying attention and not dulling your senses. A delicious cup of coffee. A belly laugh with a friend. A quiet walk in nature. A peaceful evening at home. Ordinary life can be glorious.

Trust me.

Staying Sober in a World Gone Mad

Well. An awful lot has changed since my last post. Life has begun to resemble a Stephen King novel. Personally, I have been incredibly lucky. My entire family has managed to stay healthy. The school district I work for is paying me during the closure. The weather is warming up here in New York, so my husband and I  have been able to get out for walks any time the mood strikes. And, after talking the notion into the ground for YEARS, last fall we purchased a couple of used bikes. Stashed them in the shed for the winter. Brought them out the other day, and – BAM! I’m twelve years old again, allowed to ride my bike in the neighborhood until the street lights come on and feeling like I can fly.

We seized the opportunity to Spring Clean the house last week. It’s the first time I’ve been able to perform this annual ritual (torture?) during the spring since about…. 1992, since I started working at my current job in the fall of that year.

Speaking of work, I’m retiring in June! And since the abrupt, hopefully temporary break,  I’m getting a realistic taste of what retirement might feel like.

Life’s not all sunshine and unicorn kisses. I’m scared. More than a little paranoid. Going to the supermarket is not something I look forward to. Every sniffle, cough, scratchy throat ratchets up my anxiety.  Worry is a heavy weight I pick up upon awaking every morning.

It would be lovely to escape, to be honest. When it became apparent that schools would close and everyone was panicking about the potential of being ordered to stay home, my coworkers and I were texting each other pictures of long lines in our local grocery stores. Three members of my team are, shall we say, “enthusiastic” drinkers. I received screenshots of their stockpiles of booze.

I have to admit, I felt a mix of emotions, viewing some of my old standbys….. Jealousy. Annoyance. Relief. On some level, I still wish I could drink. I don’t know if that feeling will ever go away. I’m annoyed that they’re so insensitive. A couple of them know how I struggled with alcohol, and I feel a little stung that they’re so clueless about sharing those photos with me. But mostly I’m relieved that I’m not taking screenshots of my own stockpile – because I’m fairly certain that if I were still drinking, I’d emerge from this period of self-quarantine much, MUCH less healthy. Heavier. Definitely much worse for the wear. I know that drinking to escape simply hits the “pause button” – putting everything of concern on a shelf, where it waits patiently to be picked up again when the booze wears off. And add to that the anxiety and shame that drinking caused in the first place…. Ugh. Not worth the artificial respite.

So, how to stay sober when the world’s gone insane? Here’s what works for me:

Sleep – it seems so indulgent to go to bed when I’m tired and sleep as long as I want/need to. No more 4:40 a.m. alarm, for the time being.

Exercise – from long walks in the neighborhood to bike rides to H.I.I.T. videos on YouTube to my weightlifting regimen. I’m enjoying filling my extra time with activity. It stills my anxious mind and – bonus points! – helps me sleep soundly.

Nutrition – I’m cooking a lot more these days. Eating more fruit and, overall, more nutritiously. Finding new recipes to try, including 2-ingredient bagels, which I’m totally obsessed with. (https://kirbiecravings.com/2-ingredient-bagels/)

Gratitude – I have so, SO much to be grateful for. A clean, tidy, cozy house. Food and the resources to buy whatever we need. Healthy siblings, children, and grandchildren. An elderly aunt we’ve been shopping for and staying in touch with. It feels good to help. My husband and I haven’t been apart for weeks now. We go everywhere together, by choice. We truly enjoy hanging out together. And, after almost 45 years – that’s pretty incredible. We’re so lucky.

So. It is possible to stay sober and, dare I suggest – thrive? – during the pandemic. Actually, staying sober is the most powerful tool in my survival toolbox. I know that, without it, nutrition, exercise, and my treasured relationships would be in jeopardy.

Stay well, friends.

Who’s not drinking with me today?

 

The Importance of Self-Care

Hello, friends. It’s been a while!

So much has happened since my last post! The school year started again and my schedule this year is manageable and enjoyable. I’ve fallen back in love with my job again.

We went on a trip to Massachusetts to celebrate my 60th birthday. We visited Worcester and Salem and Boston and Marblehead and found a little Airbnb right on the ocean in a town called Nahant. It was so special and magical and restorative.

Last weekend, we spent Saturday afternoon taking care of our daughter’s three little ones while she had her hair done. It was, understandably, busy and fun and noisy. I was looking forward to a quiet evening at home. You know what they say about man planning and God laughing, right?

Well. My husband got a phone call from our son asking if there was any way we could accommodate him, his wife and two daughters, and possibly a friend from college who was visiting them –  for the night – since their power had gone out after a storm here with no sign that it would go back on any time soon….

Sigh. Sure! Absolutely! We’ll figure it out!

And we did. Turns out, it was really fun – an unplanned slumber party. Then we kept our son’s two girls the next day so our son and daughter-in-law could go to a football game.  Our daughter brought her three girls over for a play date with their cousins, so it was another full, busy, noisy, fun day.

Late in the afternoon, we dropped our son’s girls off to their other grandparents. We drove home in silence for a while, savoring the peace and quiet. I had a moment – just a moment’s thought – that I’d like nothing more than a big, fat martini. I said as much to my husband. As I verbalized that thought, it occurred to me that I didn’t really want to drink. That impulse was just the dying echo of behaviors from long ago.

I just needed to practice some self-care. We stopped and picked up groceries for an easy dinner. As soon as we got home, we threw on sneakers and headed out for a long walk in our neighborhood. It was exactly what I needed: companionable quiet, broken only by the sounds of our feet crunching on fallen leaves and our scattered conversation.

Mission accomplished Battery recharged. Alcohol neither needed nor wanted here.

I continue to learn on this journey. Self-care is every bit as important now as it was early in sobriety. I need to remember that.