The past few days have been witching days. Long ones. I have been half holding my breath, trying to stay sober, not trusting myself. Wanting to stay on the positive side of Day One, but powerfully thinking about the reasons/ways I could drink.
I don’t want to start counting again. I don’t want to be hung over again. I don’t want to let myself down again.
But I do want to drink. That is true. But I don’t want to drink. That is true, too.
How long can you white knuckle it? Turns out, a long fucking time. Or at least long enough.
Item #3 on The Plan: Reach out to more sober people. So I decided to text my friend Jen who I met at She Recovers. I didn’t want my text to sound too needy. I mean, she’s Canadian and I’m American, so we know how this shit should go, right?
I wrote: “Just thinking of you. Maybe we can talk today. If not, no biggie!”
(Read: “HELP ME RIGHT NOW MOTHERFUCKER.”)
She read between my lines. Of course she did. Those Canadians. So smart.
She called and said: “I just woke up and was thinking I should text you and reached for my phone and there was your text.”
Then she said: “Well, that’s not God or anything.”
No. Not at all.