Call me what you want. Really. I can’t care less. I am eternally grateful, though, that no one can call me a sloppy drunk anymore. And I was. They weren’t lying. When I lived in El Salvador sometimes we’d go to a lake for a weekend. Lago Coatepeque was beautiful. I marred that beauty every time I went. We’d get off our bus, walk up to the hostel, and the owner and his wife would greet us with open arms, stories of the last time we were there, and say “bienvenidos, Bola Chuca (welcome, ya Dirty Drunk). They didn’t say it out of hate or judgment, they were just spitting facts. I’m a lot - personality wise 🤣🤫🤷🏻♀️- drunk or sober but I’m not falling INTO lakes at 3 am. Sloppy wasn’t sexy on me. I had to stop treating my body and soul like a trash can where I’d put anything into it. Fuck that. This body’s a temple. Yours is too. Happy Thursday, sober family! Keep it simple today.
It happened all the time. I’d tell myself I was bored, tell myself that alcohol wouldn’t cure my boredom, perseverate on that alcohol, and drink. Then I’d get to that horrid spot of drunken boredom. Alcohol didn’t cure my boredom, loneliness, sadness, anxiety or depression. It made it worse. I used to stand on my back porch with a drink and a cigarette and keep an eye on my young son through the sliding glass door. I’d get the feeling that I was on the side of death and watching him from my hell. Or my purgatory. That all sounds hellish to me. And very sad. Glad it’s behind us now…no one deserves that life. Happy Tuesday, sober family! Keep it simple today.
Have you ever woken up petrified to open your eyes because of what you did the night before? I used to. In fact, I got so used to it that it seemed abnormal not to. I’d wake up and try to remember what had happened, what I’d done, said, and did. If I was as hungover as I typically was, I’d know it wasn’t good. I’ll always remember when one of my good friends woke up at Virginia Tech after a night of partying in Radford. Once I ended up in Charlottesville, Va. Apparently we’d gone on a road trip (with a cooler full of roadies) and when the cops were called to the house we ended up in I was passed out and snoring so loudly on a couch that even the cops couldn’t wake me up. I literally have no idea how I’m still alive and kicking today but I do know this. If I had nine lives, I’ve used up 999 of them. I don’t think I could get away with the debauchery that comes along with drinking alcohol anymore. Fine by me. I prefer knowing what I’ve done and why - at least until the dementia kicks in. I have a few good years left in me. Happy Saturday, sober family! Keep it simple today.
