Day 9.

Saturday, March 14, 2020.

One crazy side effect of sobriety are dreams.
Last night I dreamed my pastor decided to have a second wife and he plucked her right from the mom population at our school. Weird, right?

Another benefit, and blessing, really, is that I'm so clear and I can tell that I'm just a bit more patient with my kids. We've gotten to school early enough each day this week for them to play on the park with a few classmates before school starts. That has delighted them and completely shocked me.

Something I mentioned in my first post was the fact that, even hung over, I am super high functioning. Prior to March 6, my typical day would've included getting up at 5:00, going to CrossFit at 6:00, coming home at 7:15 to make lunches, breakfast, possibly shower so I'm ready for the day when I get the kids to school, drop off by 8:20, showing houses, working on a renovation project (flipping houses), working with design clients, and juggling all the balls of motherhood and being the keeper of the home.  And I'd tell myself time and time again, "there is no way you have a problem with alcohol if you can get all that done in one day...no way! Good job, you!"
That would usually start to unravel sometimes as early as lunch but certainly by 4:00 PM.

For the past 8 days, I've been getting in the bed by 9:00, reading and going to bed by 10:00. I am SO much more rested when I get up at 5:00 that I can hardly believe it and I mentioned the dreams. There is no headache, no need to chug a gallon of water, face isn't swollen and I'm not piecing together the events of the night prior. And I can't believe these are the accomplishments I'm touting.

Why is it, though, that we consider going back?
Last night was Friday. The end of a busy week and the weather was just right. We had the back doors open, wind chimes singing, and all I wanted was a chilled glass of white wine. Just one. One wouldn't hurt, right? My husband was enjoying a beer so why not, I kept asking myself? As I fought through the HOURS of this internal dialogue I remembered that I desperately wanted to move past the day when alcohol took up so much head space. During those hours, it consumed my thoughts even as I was supposed to be engaging with others. I found myself eager to get out of what I was doing so that I could go get a bottle of wine. A desire I'd turned to reality so many times before...skipping what needed to happen, hurrying through something with a friend or my kids, denying a park visit, saying no to this or that, just to get a drink.

I fought through and didn't cave.

So back to the getting to school early part.
When I was exhausted from the day before but still getting up to do some crazy CrossFit workout and then herding my kids off to school like a zombie, my face would dare any mom to talk to me. This week, during those early morning park visits, I have, with clear eyes and fogless brain, thoroughly enjoyed talking to the other moms that are there. And I've felt like there is a little voice inside screaming, asking them "DO YOU SEE THE DIFFERENCE? PLEASE TELL ME YOU SEE SOMETHING DIFFERENT!?!"
But it doesn't matter because I feel the difference.

In truth, I am really active in my kids school and I'd say that other parents see me as such. They would probably disagree that 'my face dares them to talk to me' because outwardly I present to be pretty social and outgoing. But I feel that my internal dialogue is starting to agree with the mom I present to the world.

And that brings me to their struggle. We've all got something.
When I talk to other moms at school, or see people at a restaurant having a glass of wine, the Wine Witch asks me:
Do they have a problem, too?
How much did they drink yesterday?
Will that be the only glass they have?
When they get home will they open a bottle? Finish it?
What would it be like to just have one glass at a restaurant? Could I ever do that?
She says she has a cold but is she really hungover?
What would they think if they really knew what yesterday looked like for me?

I'd bet that most of those other moms would be surprised to know the details I'm spilling in these posts. The truth is, though, that if this can be my story it is likely the story of several other moms I know.

And while I'm talking about dreams, I can see purpose unfolding here and I pray that God is equipping me to be a mouthpiece. To throw off the cover of guilt and shame, create a community of folks that want to support each other and discover His purpose for our lives because it's got to be greater than spending my days fighting back the Wine Witch.