Tag Archives: sober

Laziness and Freedom

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Laziness is idleness.

Freedom is the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants.

I choose idleness. I have the freedom to choose to be lazy. Laziness is a type of freedom. To be freely idle is a skill. To be idle without guilt, shame, regret or perfectionism is rare, is it not?

Rest is a form of idleness. Stay with me. So rest is laziness? Rest is as important as exercise. Why is there a negative stigma surrounding laziness. Why must one appear to be busy or active or expressive at all times. That is exhausting. Rest, idleness or laziness is as important as not being those things. Social media would have us think otherwise. It’s okay to rest, to be idle, to be lazy. Resting bitchy face is okay.

Meanwhile the dust and cat hairs mount on the carpet. They have banded together into piles and are visible now to the naked eye. I observe. I do not remove the dust nor the cat hairs. I remain idle.

For one to remain idle. I prefer the word idle over laziness. For one to remain idle one must either ignore the chaos surrounding oneself or do something about it. One can create habits to clear the chaos or set up systems where others deal with the chaos. The world is one system. Your country is another system. Your city, another. Your neighbourhood, another. Your home, another. Your family, another. You are another. How do you deal with your systems? Do you have freedom in all your systems? How do you navigate the chaos? How do you not let the chaos of the systems invade your freedom? How do you choose freedom in your world/systems? If you don’t have freedom within a system how do you navigate the chaos?

Take for example cat hairs? Technically they are fur strands.
Solution:
Acquire a hairless cat. Too late.
Remove the cat. They are family. No
Remove the fur? No absolutely not. I don’t even shave my armpits.
Remove the shed fur/hairs? Okay? How?
Vacuum regularly so there is no build up. Possible.
Hire someone to vacuum regularly so there is no build up. Possible.

Problems and solutions. There are as many solutions as problems, more really. We can choose to act on something or not. We can look for a solution. Whether we act on it is up to the individual. Sometimes we stumble upon a solution by chance, other times we analyse and spend countless hours mulling over the problem. Sometimes we don’t notice there is a problem. We are blind to the problem. If we are blind to the problem then how can we find a solution? We cannot. We must first acknowledge the problem before we can do something about it. Sometimes there is no solution. Or one that we can think of for now. It is beyond us for now.

Today I choose sober. Today I choose idleness. Today I choose avoidance.

Ah. That last one. Avoidance. Do I really choose avoidance? By choice? By not choosing does that automatically mean avoidance? I’m afraid so. It is my system’s way of protecting myself. Self care.

A Purring

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I’m one of those people who like to get everywhere early. Punctual. I allowed for traffic and the unforeseen hurdles. So I planned for bad traffic and a delay at the post office picking up the parcel. And low and behold we were more than half an hour early for our vet appointment. There was no traffic at all. It was smooth driving, interrupted occasionally by a wailing cat. He wasn’t happy. Perhaps he thought he was being returned or abandoned. Who really knows. Maybe he didn’t like the music on the radio.

He sat patiently in the waiting room, caged and smoochy. Was expertly avoiding eye contact with the two dogs and the other cat. All was well. We waited. The canary sang behind the counter. The parrot was grumpy. A blanket was thrown over his cage. He napped after that. It was the afternoon of a heat wave.

Once in the consultation room the purring began. A reluctance to get out of the cage, a shyness to show off his inside back leg. Once it was done he was fine. He behaved like a champion, all 4.2kg of him. He has grown, a lot. We met him when he was 400g. He has come a long way.

It was nothing. It was a war wound, a bite or a scratch, licked to death with a ring of bald skin. Made it look worse than it was. He was thinking why did we bother, I could have stayed on the couch. Antibiotics were offered. We obliged. Pills twice a day for the next five days. Ten pink pills to shove down his throat. He won’t like me for ten moments. I wish for a short memory.

Life without booze is freedom. Early appointments are now a possibility. My head is on straight. I can face whatever life throws at me. Okay except the ice machine. I haven’t won that battle yet. The wooden spoon is not winning again the ice buildup. I have jabbed with a bbq fork. And a large knife. Still not working. Patience. Will try again tomorrow. I have read the manual. It’s useless. Might need to call customer service. Will assess if that’s a must tomorrow.

Picked up pizza tonight, washed it down with fizzy drink. Pepperoni, chili flakes extra. Pizza eaten sober is quite delicious. I didn’t opt for the larger pizza. I chose regular. It’s all gone now. Every bite was hot and crisp. Just right. Not a crust left in sight. Today was a carefree day. No gym, no cooking. A be kind to me day.

Two months sober. Yesss. Pizza was my sober treat.

Waiting for the vet

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Attempt to visit the vet yesterday was thwarted by one of my cats. The one that needed to go. I underestimated his determination to want to get outside. Hence, I got home and he was outside wherever and my appointment was looming. No cat. Cancelled appointment. Apologies and rebooked for today. With fingers crossed that he walked in the door later that night. He bowled in at 10pm. I greeted him and then raced to block up the cat door. Tape and cardboard. Lots of it. Mission complete.

The wait continues for the vet. Two unhappy cats who wish to be outside running in the grass pouncing on cicadas and other crawlies. They are going stir-crazy and I hope they don’t get too stressed that they pee somewhere they shouldn’t. The litter tray is unused. They haven’t needed it in some time. They always go outside now.

Heat wave still with us and they are stuck inside. (We are stuck inside.) Unhappy about it too and letting me know. They did so well until 6am. I am still not a morning person and despite that they can do no wrong. Our cats get away with murder. They are spoilt rotten. They deserve it. They flop down when they see one of us coming and demand a belly rub. They wag their tails with delight. I think they might have been dogs in a previous life.

The windows are slightly open, the safety latches firmly allowing a breeze but nothing further. Their attempts to check and recheck are to be commended but there is no escape this time.

Why am I “punishing” the cat that doesn’t need to go to the vet by keeping her inside? Well yesterday I had her “trapped” outside instead. Then I worried that she would think she wasn’t welcome. She came back home in the evening. No hard feelings.

I care for these creatures better than I care for myself. I am selfless with them. As it should be. They had a tough start in life. Rescued cats always do. Now they live a life of exploring, sleeping, eating and unconditional love.

Did I mention that we are still feeding a neighbour’s cat. Not by choice. He is a thief. He steals into the house at odd hours of the day and night and helps himself. He does it around the neighbourhood to other homes too. He is notorious. He should be the side of a house. I wait for the day he can’t fit through the flap. He gets shooed away and yet he still comes back. A persistent one.

He was the one that got stuck in the other neighbour’s treehouse for 4-5 days. And survived. Silly moo.

I’m sure our cats are enjoying this new sober me. No more wine breath.

Managed to somehow stand on a cat’s tail last week. Sober. She forgave me. How could I have been drunk all this time last year and never do it and then once sober go and do it. Of all the odds. Felt so terrible. She still loves me. All is forgotten and forgiven.

The house is quiet. A resigned feeling of what will be will be. They are sleeping again. Peace is restored. Until the cat cage and the journey…

The Joys of Soberishness

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  • I can drive myself home at night
  • I don’t have to get an Uber
  • I don’t have to watch what, how much, when about drinking
  • I can wear high heels without the fear of falling over (I have yet to bother)
  • I love night driving
  • I am saving money by not drinking
  • I am never hungover
  • I don’t waste “the next day” recovering
  • I remember everything I do when I go out
  • The recycling bin takes forever to fill now
  • I don’t have the midnight munchies
  • I am more mindful of my time
  • I am more serious about play
  • I take better care of myself
  • I appreciate the silent stillness of the night
  • I am still not a morning person
  • I am an accidental insomniac
  • I have a huge tea collection
  • I drink almost no coffee these days
  • The days are longer
  • I am full of hope
  • I am more active

Ridiculous Thought #3

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“I’ll never be able to wear my favourite pyjamas ever again.”

Conclusion: Case Dismissed With Prejudice.

The day after I decided to become sober I almost threw out my favourite pyjamas. I have several actually. “But first champagne” and “Let’s celebrate” written in cursive text on the tops and half full champagne glasses decorating the pyjama bottoms. They are super soft and extremely comfortable and they remind me of an overseas trip. It was a festive trip, it was around Thanksgiving. I bought four pairs.

Now that I’m sober I couldn’t possibly wear anything with alcohol on it. I cannot associate myself with alcoholic brands or drinks. I really thought that I had to bin my pyjamas. I actually had one pair in my hand ready to toss them away and I thought wait, they weren’t cheap, they were super soft. You can’t just walk into a shop and buy them. They don’t sell them in New Zealand. Long story short. I slept on it. Like I do with everything. I decided to postpone the fate of my pyjamas. And after some careful deliberation, a few days, or a week, I decided I would keep them. I decided I was strong enough to wear them and not be tempted to follow the wording literally.

Why did I decide to write this today. Guess what I’m wearing? I made the right decision to keep them. Cheers! Chamomile tea this evening.

AF

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I thought everyone on sober sites were a sweary bunch. AF this and AF that. It didn’t twig that AF meant Alcohol Free for a few days. That’s how entwined alcohol was in my life. It was a code I couldn’t read. It may seem a humorous misunderstanding and it does make me smile even now but the reality of not knowing what it meant is very sobering.

It also stand for Auto Focus and Atrial Fibrillation.

Recovery

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Alcoholism is wrapped like a poisonous vine all through New Zealand society. Every magazine, commercial, advertisement, film, book has a mention or a splash of an image of someone enjoying an alcoholic beverage. The drunk ones always have more fun, more confidence, gorgeous friends, they live life to the fool full. They get their hooks into you from youth and cling to your ankles when you try to run away. They offer free drinks, a discount when bought in bulk, wine clubs to help you talk the talk, tastings and trips and a day at the races all sponsored by big brands.

To chose a sober life is conscious choice. The right choice. It is not the easier path. At any function you attend the alcoholic array is endless, the non alcoholic choice is one, orange juice. I haven’t had orange juice in years. I don’t like sickly drinks. Never have. Give me salty, sour or bitter anytime.

I say this but I haven’t been out yet to a western restaurant or bar yet. Asian and Indian restaurants: yes. They serve tea and water without question. There is no awkward pause before saying just water please. I plan to order sparkling water when I do go out where wine is abundantly on the menu. You know but, I keep thinking of all the money I’m saving by not drinking out or at home. It brings a smile to my face just thinking about it.

Wise Greg at Club East Indianapolis wrote “… many ….. value the image of recovery over recovery itself.”

I hadn’t thought about recovery at all. And with the image of recovery there’s a disconnect. To me that is something on television or in film. Someone else with a foreign accent. It’s not me. I’m only interested in the internal journey. I hadn’t thought of it as a recovery. My secret is “I never grew up.” My curiosity is endless. This is helping me discover “sober”. Really in essence it is learning to live again fully present.

Even the word alcoholic seems like a foreign word. It doesn’t roll off the tongue easily. It is a word I may think I am but will not speak aloud. Perhaps I am still in denial about this. Acceptance will grow on me.

Scott Peck’s book The Path Less Traveled was an exciting book for me when I read it many moons ago. I took that book to heart and have always forged my own one. To create a new path rather than follow one already ploughed is more difficult but is ultimately more satisfying. It is nice to get pointers and meet like-minded or not along the way. I am tackling this new sober path the same way.

Recovery, discovery, internal journey, whatever you call it I am doing it. I am not here to pretend to be sober. I tell it like it is, how it feels, straight. (How I liked my vodka.) Maybe blunt at times. Honest. Absolutely. Without that I am nothing. I take my life seriously. (I drank seriously too. Look where that got me.) I am loving this new sober me.

Day 46

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Went to the gym, the supermarket and then the library. Had a whole food brunch of toasted muesli, fresh mango with milk after getting home.
Froze the leftover mangoes, 29c each. Very cheap. Bought five.
Froze the pomegranate arils from two pomegranates.
Bought vegetables, fruit and fish.
I have lost 3 kilograms since becoming sober. That is without trying.
I am adding new food into my life. I am not banishing food as such. I am making better choices. That’s it really.
Today is a good day.
Listening to WBGO while I organise the kitchen bench. Late night jazz is much better than day time jazz. This afternoon it sounds like elevator music. I could go for another station but it’s like a comfortable coat. Snug.

I have scaled back my mini habits to the recommended FOUR. I have placed the other three into another category. I am learning to be kind to myself.

I appreciate the supportive comments as I embark on this journey of mine. I feel light in the fact that there are so many hands helping me along the way. I have many book recommendations from readers also. Thank you. My list to read is getting longer. I am starting on a new one, Grit The Power of Passion and Perseverance by Angela Duckworth.

5:30am and the sun is coming up and I am going to sleep. My neighbour’s light was on. Early to rise, early to bed. I wish that were me. Eventually I will get back to that. Exercise, better food, sober, mostly caffeine free. I am not after a quick fix. I am after a better lifestyle. I love the changes I am making. Proper sleeping hours will come back. I used to drop off to sleep so quickly. Patience.

My cats look happy and confident. They are spoilt rotten. Rescued brother and sister, they arrived scared and wide eyed over a year ago. They are growing up. They always make sure to nap within sight of me. One of them loves to sleep on woven supermarket bags. Simple tastes. On top of or inside, she doesn’t mind. Right now they are outside exploring the jungle of the backyard. Bird watching or roof climbing I presume.


The World is Flat

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My world is flat but I’m hanging on for dear life because I think I’m going to fall off. I’m anxious on the edge. One more wobble and I’ll drop away into the abyss. Liquid is oozing from the tear ducts of my eyes. I feel uneasy. I feel hungry for no reason. An insatiable appetite. This healthy new life I am sliding into does fit. It feels like a size S whereas I am an XL.

Breathe.

Nothing good will come from this. This feeling of despair. I haven’t felt like this in a while. The pink cloud has burst. Was it even there? It is raining inside and out. I know that this feeling will pass. I shouldn’t be holding on. I should be facing the rain with my head held high. Catching the droplets. Letting them run down my face mixing with my tears. The rain will pass and so will this feeling.

In this middle of this feeling of despair and hopelessness it is hard to find the door let alone an umbrella to stop the rain falling. The point is not to stop the rain falling but to wait it out. Let it pass. The sun will come out again. Be patient.

Breathe.

I’m trying to run when I should be walking and resting. Too much too fast. I’m trying to get to the finish line when there is no race to begin with. There is no one to compete with, only myself. The point is the journey. Mind the way. Mind each step.

Breathe.Who gives a f^(k? I do. I have been a faithful drinker for thirty five years. I have dedicated all these years to the God of Drink. I have been to worship most evenings. Some longer sessions other days with naught. God of Drink whispered continued worship when I was unfaithful. I have turned my back on Drink and all of it’s realm. I no longer say Hail to God of Drink. My back is turned. The bubble has burst. I see God of Drink for what it is: Poison.

It’s hard to change religions. Perhaps I am in mourning? Saying goodbye.

This new thing called Sober. It’s uncomplicated. It’s direct. It doesn’t lie. It is open. It is supportive. It’s inclusive. It’s caring. It is forgiving. It believes in me. I’m not used to all this. This loving gooey-ness. I feel like I don’t deserve all this. Stupid thought. That last one. I know it is but I think it anyway. A remnant from the past. I love Sober.

I write to understand myself. I type to understand myself. It helps a lot. There is much to write. There are thoughts to deal with. It helps to put pen to paper. It feels good to hold onto something physical. Typing on a keyboard although therapeutic at times there remains a disconnect. It’s digital. You aren’t writing the letters longhand. There are no cross outs, no ink stains, no smears. There is just delete and auto correct.

Anxiety is lifting. The world is no longer flat. The rain is clearing.

Tomorrow is going fine. I’m going to be fine. New Sober me is free.