No Day But Today: Day One of My OYAF*

*One Year Alcohol-Free

I woke this morning with a dry mouth and puffy face, the result of two margaritas and a few sips of wine: my last alco-hurrah before embarking on my 52-week experiment in sobriety. I had planned to drink one last glass of Sauvignon Blanc to say farewell to my drinking days. But by the time I got to it I already felt queasy from the margaritas and zillion tortilla chips (because ‘Merica) so I could only manage a few measly sips.

It was a good ending note, actually. I could have done without the nausea but it was reassuring (in an albeit unpleasant way). I had planned to have a few drinks, to celebrate Independence Day and my own impending independence from alcohol. But my body didn’t want ’em. There will be less to miss, I think, now that I know I’m no longer capable of “having a few drinks” the way I used to “have a few drinks…” every night.

I have had Sauvignon Blanc, my shining beacon of fabulosity, on a pedestal for the last several years. She has been my savior, my salve, my BFF. She has comforted me, chilled me out, lifted me up.

Except she’s a devil in disguise. A fraud broad. A knockoff handbag sold out of a trash bag on Broadway. At least that’s how she has been revealed to me. Everybody is different. But my body is onto her, even if my still-smitten brain wants to give her another chance. And another.

For the next 365 days, that won’t be an option. I’m locking the door to my mental trophy room and letting the key fall into the bottomless pit of my mom bag, to rest among the half-crayons, Hot Wheels, and used tissues.

Why am I doing this now?

My gut has announced that now is the time. I have a year before my son starts kindergarten. So, a year to figure my shit out so that I don’t feel completely gutted when he struts onto the school bus. That same September, in 2019, I’ll be celebrating my 10th wedding anniversary. I’m still a couple of years away from turning 40, but I want to lay the groundwork now to feel amazing by then.

I am closer than I have ever been to my best body ever. And I have been doing Weight Watchers for long enough now to know that I can’t effectively address my eating issues (read: battle the sugar-and-salt monster) with the shadow of alcohol looming over me. Willpower is a finite resource, after all.

As the phase of early motherhood comes to an end for me, I need to be able to think clearly and creatively about where I’m heading. I know I can’t do that if I continue to be seduced by Sauv B. Those days are over. For now. Maybe forever. But definitely for now. And I have a feeling that if I ever chose to open that door again, I’ll find Sauv B’s pedestal has crumbled to dust.

It Begins (Tomorrow): One Year Alcohol-Free

I am taking myself by surprise here. But I haven’t felt a good fire like this in my belly for awhile and so I know that it’s there for a reason and this is where I am meant to be. Tomorrow, July 5, 2018: the first day of one year alcohol-free. It is ON.

How did I get to this point? I have not hit rock bottom. There was no wake-up call. No emergency that propelled me to jettison myself out of dire straits.

There is just me, my cognitive dissonance, and an opportunity.

I have felt a bit adrift since I completed The Alcohol Experiment on April 30. I thrived within the structure of that program. Writing on each day’s topic focused my general self-care efforts. It was educational, enlightening, rewarding.

And then it was done. And drinking became drinking? and despite my iron-clad non-negotiables, the shadowy possibility of drinking slowly started looming larger and larger over my life.

My days of alcohol-freedom during Dry January and The Alcohol Experiment were chock full of life-changing epiphanies, including the realization of the impact of cognitive dissonance on my daily existence. Liberating myself from that horrible inner conflict of not wanting to drink, but wanting to drink; knowing it’s not good for me, but not being able to resist the emotional boost from pouring that first glass and taking those first few crisp sips before the soul-crippling guilt set in – felt like my brain bursting open with light and love. For reals.

I may not be at rock bottom. I haven’t broken any non-negotiables, though I have blurred the line a few times lately. I haven’t been drunk. I haven’t even had more than two drinks in one day in months. But I want that light and love back. And I want it bad.

It struck me yesterday that this is the next step for me. A whole year alcohol-free, not just 90 days or even six months. It hit me like a firm gut punch. But instead of knocking the wind out of me, my new ab muscles were clenched and ready for it. Instead of gasping for breath, I felt butterflies.

But when to start, I wondered? Should I wait until after my husband’s birthday in a couple of weeks? Should I wait for August 1 so I can start at the beginning of a month? I’ve already missed the #DryJuly boat. Maybe I should wait. It is a whole year, after all…

I logged into Connect and there was the final sign: I hit 1,000 followers. There are 1,000 people I have the opportunity to inspire with my choices, my lifestyle, my words, my pictures. And my 1,000th follower? She goes by the username @doitnowsexy. And that was that.

Do it now, sexy.

Ok, I’ll do it now. I’ll enjoy my last cold glass of Sauvignon Blanc today. I’ll probably also have a final margarita, since those are my two favorite drinks. And, you know, ‘Merica. Happy 4th and all that.

And then tomorrow, July 5, it begins. One year alcohol-free. One year AF. One year AF AF! I got this.