I can’t feel my heart. When I was drinking, I was always aware of it beating. Sometimes it beat too quickly, sometimes too slowly, but it always beat hard. It’s strange to lay still and not feel it pound. Everything’s changing.
I spent Saturday night in a bar. In the past few weeks, I’ve spent more time in bars than in the past 5 years. Husband has started playing with a band and they’ve been playing open jam nights as often as possible.
It was Saturday night and we left the house at 10:00 pm. We left the house at 10:00 pm. I haven’t done that since my 20’s.
Before husband’s band played, the house band jammed for about an hour, and they were awesome. Near the end of their set, I sat back and forced myself to evaluate how I was feeling about being in a bar on a Saturday night with people I’m still relatively new to. I was amazed that I had been able to get out of my own dysfunctional head and really enjoy the music and the company.
It is very unusual to me to be comfortable in my own skin, let alone sober and social.
For the majority of every day, I am overwhelmed by my new sober life. It often feels like an impossible long-term goal. When I think about the enormous amount of internal work that’s ahead of me, I want to recoil and just give up now. What keeps me afloat is reflecting upon the results of the work I’ve done so far. Being able to enjoy an evening of music in a bar is a huge change that’s a direct result of self-reflection, honesty and therapy.
That reflection, a brief glimpse of light in a dark room, is what will get me through day 138.