So I’ve reached the Holy Grail I’d set for myself a month ago. Slowly but surely, each day and night passed and now, seemingly suddenly, I’m here.
I had planned to write a post detailing all the ways my life has improved by not drinking alcohol for the past 30 days. I wrote them all down and when I reached the end of the long list, I realised that I could not be bothered posting them today.
Because while my life has improved and I am feeling so much better physically and mentally, my heart just isn’t in it today. The fact is, even though I’ve reached a milestone of sorts, I feel sad and tired and life just doesn’t feel rosy or blissful. It’s still hard, I’m still lonely and nothing much has really changed.
It’s my birthday the day after tomorrow. Despite being sober I’m still going to wake up alone, and go to bed alone. I’m still going to be a single, 40 something year old, who doesn’t have her children 50% of the time and who lives in a shitty, tiny apartment. No magical lump sum of money is going to appear in my bank account to enable me to ‘spoil’ myself and do something indulgent and fun on the day. I most likely won’t receive any gifts on the day and no-one is going to sing me Happy Birthday or present me with flowers or a cake.
It sounds like I’m feeling sorry for myself and yeah, I am. I know how good my life is in comparison to so many others, I know how blessed I am and I know that life could be much worse and much harder. But fuck, I thought I’d have my life together by now and I want so much more than I currently have. I’ve lost count of how many years I’ve told myself “Next year will be different, next year is IT” and then that next birthday rolls around and there I am, stuck in the same old rut, dreaming the same old dreams and not having moved a single step towards them.
I’m turning the age my Father was when he found out he had terminal cancer. The same age. It’s terrifying. Because if this was to be my final year of feeling well, of being healthy, I’d be so FUCKING PISSED OFF. If this was it, I’d be furious at myself and the world. Because this is not the life I envisioned ten, twenty, thirty years ago.
Sigh. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. I just feel out of sorts and low and I probably just need to go to bed and get a good night’s sleep.
So. 30 days. It’s great and I’m glad I’ve reached it. It feels good but I know it’s just the beginning, not an end point.