Once in awhile it’ll hit me, how different my life has been these past few years.

Like when I think about my recycle cupboard. The high spot above my fridge- where I’d keep my bottle of poison, along with the many empties I’d produce each week.

This sounds kind of lame, but I sort of felt like a super hero when my large recycle bin no longer contained a surplus of empty kahlua, vodka or wine containers. I also don’t miss my indoor liquor/recycle cabinet.

I don’t have to rotate liquor store stops, or make sure I grocery shop after noon on a Sunday (so I could buy liquor), and the perfect Saturday night is spent happily at home- not out wherever at whoever’s house (basically, wherever I could drink the most 😃).

And, an exchange of messages made me realize how much I don’t miss losing things. Expensive, important things 😬🙄

But this morning it was loading the dishwasher..

All the wine glasses, so awkward. Top rack? Too tall. Bottom rack? Too flimsy. Where do I put these dang things? How can I forget so easily after loading wine glasses daily for like TWENTY years?

The wine glasses fit awkwardly

It was one of those moments when I realized how little I missed such a huge and scary daily obsession. Which is bananas, considering the amount of time I dragged my feet to quit.

It was like hiding behind a large door. The door is strong and solid, and protects me from harm, while comforting my brain and belly, and ensuring the safety it provides.

I got tired of feeling stuck, but didn’t know how to get through that door. Slowly, by listening to podcasts and reading quit lit (books to help quit drinking), I gathered enough tools to slowly take down that door.

Busting through it took a lot of strength, courage, effort and faith.

Sometimes I got scared, and ran back to my safe room, slamming the big heavy door behind me.

But a part of me knew I didn’t belong in there. After many tries, I finally broke the whole thing down. What I saw next was shocking.

Rows and rows of open doors surrounded me. Each one was warm and welcoming. Better yet, I could go through each one without becoming a prisoner.

Those doors are the gifts of sobriety, and they tend to multiply 🤗🕺🏼🎉

So, if you’re on the fence, give yourself a chance or two, you’re worth it 🤍

* 3 Years * 9 Months * 5 Days *


3 thoughts on “No Wine-ing about It

  1. I don’t miss the morning scaries. I was always afraid to open my phone and see who I had texted while being blackout drunk. Of course, I often dropped phones in the lake, so sometimes I didn’t get to check!


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