Friday, May 31, 2024

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #849: ONE YEAR AND 321 DAYS

 It has been a year and 321 days since my last drink. Looks like I might actually make two years!


But drinking is a bit of a phantom limb for me, and as I've lost two toes, I'm more familiar with the concept than most. I think the pain comes from my toe stumps remembering what it was like to be separated from their toes, not that I have ghost toes that are in pain.


I miss drinking a lot. Well, I miss, a lot, the act of drinking, and I miss the act of drinking a lot. I have no drive to drink. I don't sweat when I think about it. I'm long past the physical addiction. I'm pretty sure I'm never going to drink again, but defeating the urge is an every day thing. Whenever a character in a movie or on a show I'm watching takes a drink, I wish I could, too. When I'm doing something that I used to drink while doing? Oh yeah. Like when I was packing up my things before I went to detox. Now I realize that the boxes are too big and too heavy. I knew a moving company would be able to figure it out, but that might not be happening, so I find myself in this situation where I'm repacking everything into smaller boxes for portability by someone who doesn't move boxes for a living. I've been doing this every day off I've had for a couple of weeks, and I really, really miss being able to drink while I worked.


I also used to edit my books while drinking. Drinking and writing did not mix for me, but drinking and editing worked out pretty well. Eye Cutter is the first full length book I've edited without booze. It felt weird this time around, but I don't think there was much of a difference.


Before I went to detox I looked at alcoholics who had gone decades without a drink, and I'd think, OK. You got it figured out. You're probably not an alcoholic anymore. Now that I have a better understanding, it's kind of crazy to think if I had that much time under my belt, that I'd still be thinking about doing shots. Or sipping scotch with a cigar. Or even having some beer while doing work around the house.


Weird, but seemingly true.

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