Piss off...

Monday, October 10, 2011

Steady As She Goes


Thursday, 42 days or six weeks since my last drink, we brought our dear Nellie into the vet. Since adopting two six-month-old kittens two weeks earlier, Nellie, who we had for nearly eight years - our first pet together - had become withdrawn, hiding, not eating. She had lost three pounds. We took her in for x-rays, and the vet wanted to do an ultrasound the next morning.

And I fell apart, but still no temptation to drink it away.

Friday, 42 days or six weeks since entering detox, the ultrasound came back: lymphoma. And we left work and went back to the vet, and we held our baby girl while she was put down.

And I completely lost it, but still no temptation to drink it away.

Saturday, 42 days or six weeks since checking out of detox, we attended the wedding of a dear friend from high school. An overnight stay at a beautiful ski lodge, old and new friends and an open bar. All night.

And 24 hours after the trauma of the sudden end of our pet, with an open bar all night, I had nothing but Coke, and was only slightly kicking myself that the wedding wasn't three months earlier.

This does not mean that I'm cured, nor does it mean that I can quit. Not in the least. But I'm encouraged. Mental and physical deprogramming is a huge part of recovery, and I do feel like that part of my life is in the past.

Feels kind of good to have some tangible evidence that I may just be as hardcore as I've been convincing myself that I am...


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