There’s something in Vodka Goggles’ simple grasp on things that very much appeals to me at this stage of my sobriety. Sometimes I think I still — even now — try to make it all more complicated than it really is a lot of the time.
317 days have passed without so much as a drop of alcohol passing my lips. I hadn’t given that much thought until yesterday afternoon when I was doing yard work. I remembered that last summer I spent every other weekend obliterated out of my mind from Thursday through Sunday night. Most Sundays were slept away trying to ward off the hangovers of the century. I could never mow on Sunday. I was left to sweat out the toxins during the week.
Anyway, I was thinking about how much I wanted to drink on my way home from work on Friday. Exhaustion always brings me to wanting to numb and check out. At this stage of the game, I can wait those feelings out by reminding myself of how horrible hangovers were for me. Waking up every morning sober and not wanting to crawl out of my own skin is worth…
View original post 186 more words