Things that go bump in the night…

I remember when I was a kid I was scared that there was a monster under my bed. I was terrified that this monster was going to grab me and pull me under the bed into the land of terrors. I had no idea what a real monster could do. I had no way of understanding that there were monsters in my everyday life. I hadn’t been introduced to alcohol, I hadn’t been told to take this pill or that pill to feel better.

Not yet at least.

 

Fast forward to July 2016. I had just brought home my second beautiful daughter, and life was pretty good. I remember my husband asking me if I wanted a drink or anything. I was so focused on the baby and making sure our eldest felt loved in the midst of all the changes in her life. I told him I was fine. I didn’t need a drink. I was oozing out happiness and bliss from every pore. I made sure I gave myself a big ‘ol pat on the back for turning down alcohol. At the time, I said to myself, ” See! You don’t have a problem. You can say no.”

That lasted for approximately two hours. The sun was setting, the house started to quiet down, and bedtime was approaching. I told my husband to sleep on the couch so I wouldn’t wake him when I was up with the baby. Around two am I started to feel like there were bugs crawling up my legs. I couldn’t sit still. I became terrified to close my eyes. My heart started to race, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was dying. I woke my husband up and told him he needed to bring me to the ER immediately. The feeling just got worse and worse. I realized I couldn’t go to the ER, because I would have to take the baby too and she was too little to be surrounded with all of the germs that lurk in an ER.

Instead, I ran out into the backyard hysterically crying. My husband had to hold me super tight, I was scared shitless. Eventually, the feeling left.

Twenty minutes later, round two started. Same crazy feelings, same terror. This time I decided I had to do something about it. If it kept happening I would be exhausted from being up all night panicking or feeding the baby. I had to sleep. I had to turn off my mind to make the panic go away.

Drinking seemed like the obvious solution.

I pounded two glasses of wine. That’s all I needed. My brain started to slow down. Well, if two glasses managed to help, two more wouldn’t be a big deal. I was trying to develop a healthy breastfeeding relationship with my newborn, but I had some formula stashed away. It didn’t matter. I fed her formula as I felt my boobs just straight up fill up with milk that I couldn’t even feed her.

 

As time went on, this nighttime panic bullshit got worse. I started these weird rituals when I could feel the anxiety creeping in. If everyone else in the house was asleep, I wasn’t allowed to sleep. Someone had to be up. I would look at my windows and try to see if any of my neighbors were still up. If they were, then I could go to sleep. If that failed, I would watch infomercials until 3 am when the news came on. If the news came on, I could sleep.

Constant racing thoughts, scared of dying in my sleep, feeling inadequate as a mom, hating my curvy body, worrying that I might trip on the stairs and drop the baby, and so many other intrusive thoughts just ran a marathon in my brain.

 

All of this crap became an excuse. I’m depressed! I have anxiety! I have OCD! Drinking will help. Look- see, I had some wine and now I’m totally functioning! I’m smiling! Alcohol was the solution to all my postpartum issues.

 

Cracking open a bottle of wine at 2 am started to seem more and more like normal behavior. I thought it was helping me sleep. It wasn’t helping me sleep. I was BLACKING out every night. Over and over and over and over. Reality started to become blurry.

“Are there other moms that do this? There has to be. I can’t be the only one. But, just to be safe, I’m not going to mention this to anyone.”

 

Hundreds and hundreds of dollars spent on my ” medicine”.

 

Happy moms drink! It makes us better moms! What a relief! I don’t have to feel anything at all, EVER. AMAZING!

 

It never occurred to me that those rituals that I made up in order to fall asleep weren’t exactly rituals at all. They were excuses that I created in order to feed my monster. The list got longer and longer. It got to the point that if someone even looked at me the wrong way, I would tell myself to go drink.

 

Sure, drinking would knock me out, but over time it made everything worse. My depression was all-consuming. My anxiety started to debilitate me. My OCD was getting worse and worse.

 

The harder it got, the more excuses I made. “It’s noon on a Tuesday and you have to fold laundry? Laundry is stressful! How about I Just start drinking…”

 

I would go in and out of different doctors, begging them to help me. I felt like my mental health was in bad shape. They’d prescribe this and that, never once asking me how much alcohol I drank. And if they did ask? I’d lie, obviously. Only a couple glasses a week!

(um try…four boxes a week…)

Then after a couple years of that shit, something happened. I woke up for a brief moment and looked at my family. I was turning this home into hell for everyone here. The guilt and shame over my selfish behavior pushed me into start thinking about getting sober.

It didn’t happen overnight. It happened after several months after more blackouts. I finally realized I had to kill the monster. This monster disguised it’s self as a friend.  I wasn’t sure how I could live without it.

 

Then this really crazy thing happened. Sobriety. 

The most sobriety I have, the more that extra crap fades away. Who would have thought that alcohol made all of my mental stuff worse? I thought it was helping. It wasn’t helping. It was killing me.

I’m not perfect. I can’t tell you what tomorrow will bring, but I know that I have faced my monster and I kicked its ass to the curb. It will try to creep back in over and over again, but I’m not weak anymore. I’m a fucking warrior and I will beat that asshole senseless before I let myself believe the lies it tries to tell me.

Nighttime isn’t scary anymore. If I can’t sleep I don’t freak out. The exhaustion that came with being a raging alcoholic is no longer there. If I don’t get those recommended 8 hours a night, I get a red bull and I deal. It’s ok to be tired sometimes. It won’t kill me, but drinking will.

I’m happy. I’m healthy. I’m spiritual. I’m all the things that I wanted to be for so long, but could only achieve through sobriety.

The monster doesn’t fool me anymore.

Hi, my name is Kate and I’m a…um…uh…

‘Tis the season for new mom friends.

We all stand together at kindergarten drop off. We line up a few hours later for pickup. We schedule playdates, dance lessons, and moms night out. We laugh about how tired we are, how are kids are insane, and how much we totally deserve wine.

Lots of wine.

A new neighbor came up to me a few weeks ago while my youngest kids were losing their shit on the playground, and she asked me if I drink a lot of wine at the end of the day. I laughed.

Not anymore.

When I got sober a few months ago, I lost my circle of mom friends. I guess that’s kind of a normal thing, my sober friends have gone through it too. I can’t really figure out why. I’m still me, I’m just not chugging wine in your back yard at two pm on a Tuesday afternoon. I’m also a pretty good designated driver, you’d think someone would have taken advantage of that by now.

I was a crappy human being when I was drunk. I’m the friend who would get black out drunk and leave the bar without saying goodbye to anyone. I’m the friend who couldn’t hang out, because I was barfing all day with zero recollection of the night before. The only way for me to become a semi-decent human being was to put the wine down.

IMG_5105*Drunk Kate making excellent choices*

Is it threatening to mom culture if we stop drinking? Uh…yes.

 

Coffee! Wine! More Coffee! More Wine!

Does it force other moms to reflect on their own drinking habits?

 

I’m not saying that these moms are alcoholics, but it’s hard to face your vices. There’s such a stigma of being sober in a mommy circle. How do sober people have any fun? Do sober people sit awkwardly at your dining room table while everyone else is drinking? Sounds like sober moms are lame as hell.

I’ve gotten a lot of playdate texts from new friends asking if I wanted to hang out with our kids and drink vodka lemonades. I’m pretty open about my sobriety ( DUH.), but it’s still a little hard to tell a new person in your life that you used to be a raging alcoholic. It’s pretty simple to say, ” No thank you, I don’t drink,,” but getting those words out of my mouth can be a struggle at first.

*NEWS FLASH*

I’m really fucking fun. I’m loud, wild and incredibly inappropriate. I’m sure it’s embarrassing for my children, but a fellow mom might enjoy my boisterous disposition.

Hungry? I can cook for you! I love cooking, and I don’t care or mind if you have a glass of wine while enjoying my company. If I’m feeling extra nice I might even bake you something yummy.

Sober moms can shop, take road trips, go to the movies, take cooking classes, go to concerts, jump in pools, go to the zoo, go to one of those painting party things everyone talks about, bitch about our crazy toddlers, watch football (Ok, that’s probably a stretch for me.), rap to your favorite Nicki Minaj song, and do WHATEVER THE HELL WE WANT.

IMG_5107*Sober Kate*

People actually do live without alcohol. Can you imagine? How crazy! Such insanity! Never thought it would be possible!

We’re all moms. We go through a lot of shit together, that’s just how it is. Some of us get sober, some of us don’t. It doesn’t matter. You do you, I’ll do me.

 

Just be a friend.

 

I”m lucky to have some amazing sober friends. We lift each other up. We cry, laugh, dance and eat copious amounts of candy together.

 

I spent this past weekend with one of my very best friends. She’s not an alcoholic, but she’s very supportive of my sobriety. We hung out and had a blast this weekend. We had a good time even

Who’s to say that sober moms can’t have relationships like that with moms that drink? Normal people can drink whenever the hell they want. It doesn’t bother me or affect my sobriety. My life and choices have nothing to do with yours. Whether you drink or not, it’s none of my business. Drink up my friend, drink up. I’ll pound my red bull, you can pound your pina coolada.

 

It’s all good.

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a comedy of errors

It’s been awhile.

I debated whether I even wanted to write about this. I worried what people would think. I worried about losing friends. I worried about judgement. But, worrying really gets you no where.

I feel like since I’ve started sharing my sobriety journey I have been pretty transparent. I chose to approach my addiction with complete honesty. It’s my hope that someone else who needs help might read this. Living with your  addiction in isolation is a horrible place to be. Alone. Scared. Sick.

I know there’s people out there who don’t think I should be talking about this so publicly.

 

What will people think?

 

WHO CARES?

 

This is my life. This is my journey. The only way that I can maintain my sobriety is to share my story with others, and hope that the still suffering alcoholic might decide to take those first steps into sobriety feeling a little less alone.

You’re not alone.

We are not alone.

We do this together. It’s the only way.

At least for me it is.

I want to be held accountable in all aspects of my life, especially this. We’re only as sick as our secrets.

I had a secret.

A few weeks ago I started to feel myself slip. I had been sober for almost five months, and I got complacent. I got a little cocky. I started to think that I didn’t need to go to as many meetings as before. I started to think about how I was going to sneak a drink at a summer picnic. I shared some of my thoughts about this with my friends. I told them I was struggling a little. That’s it. I didn’t get into the deep shit.

I’ll keep my deep shit to myself.

I’ll slip deeper and deeper into isolation.

I’ll start to realize how easy it is to hate yourself. 

I thought I could handle this by myself. I thought I could slip back into addiction and no one would know. I’d make sure I hid my shit in different parts of the house. I’d lie better this time. I mean, am I even really an addict and an alcoholic? Maybe I’m not.

Well, that thinking got me really far.

 

It took me all the way back in and right smack dab in the middle of relapse.

All of that hard work was gone. Right out the window. I didn’t think twice about it. Actually, I didn’t think anything about it as far as I know, because I have zero recollection of the whole thing.

 

It lasted a little over twenty-four hours. In that short period of time I took all of my will back from God. I told him to get the hell out of my life, because IT’S MY LIFE. I’ll do what I want.

Thats the kind of thinking that led me to this shit hole in the first place.

As I came out of the fog I looked around me. I had put my addiction in first place in my life. I didn’t care what my husband said. I didn’t care that I could have hurt my kids. I didn’t care what my family had to say.

I crawled out of bed and started crying.

What the fuck had happened? How did this happen? Why?

I disappointed my parents. I disapointed my brother and sisters. I disapointed my beautiful, amazing daughters. I disappointed the man who chose to spend the rest of his life with me. I disapointed everyone.

I disapointed myself. I wanted to smash my head into a wall. I wanted to jump off the roof. How could I have done this? I could have lost everything. My home, my family, my serenity. All of that could have been taken away from me in just a few short hours of insanity.

Cunning.

Baffling.

Powerful.

I took a good look around and decided to claim my will back from my addiction and hand it back to my Higher Power.

I had to find it again. I had to get on my knees in the middle of my kitchen and pray. Praying for sobriety, gratitude, honesty, love, willingness and an open mind.

I walked into a room with the people who knew all about my struggle, and they welcomed me back with love and understanding. We shared our stories, we laughed, we cried, we held hands.

I kept going. I’ve been going. I’ve been surrounding myself with my people. The people who look just like any other normal human being, but know the struggles and desperation of addiction and despair.

We do this together.

Relapse is not required. But it happened. It happened and all I can do is push and push forward into that sweet space of life where I can find that peace and happiness again.

I’m here. I keep coming back to the space where sobriety is life and death.

I chose life.

 

Life is kind of funny sometimes.

 

Several hours before I relapsed I got a new tattoo. I wanted to get my sobriety date in roman numerals with a sparrow on my left collar bone.

Four hours later I lost my sobriety. Yeah… so that date that’s permenantly on my body? Not my sobriety date anymore. Honestly, there is such comedy in life, I still can’t stop laughing about it. It’s like getting a boyfriends name tattoo’d on your boob, you know? You know it’s a horrible idea, but you do it anyway.

Perfect comedic timing.

I kept looking at it. It’s pretty. After a while, I realized that the date on there, March 18, 2018, was still one of the most important days of my life. On March 18th I learned that there is a life after addiction. I learned that serenity is a possibility for me. I learned that I didn’t need to drink that day, today, or anyday. March 18th is when my journey began, and I”m damn glad that I’ll never forget it. It’s a constant reminder.

But… you’ve got to admit, it’s pretty funny right?

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Joy.

If you ever enter my house, you’ll see about 50,000 things that say JOY on it. The word has a special place in my heart. My grandmother, GG, made it her mantra. So much so that at 75 she got it tattood on her wrist like a bad ass grandmother, if ever there was one. She actually convinced me to get my first tattoo at 18, with half of my family standing around in an itty bitty tattoo shop in Torrington, CT on my 18th birthday. She really, really had to convince me. My first reaction was, NOPE.

Nope. Nope. Nope. And then another thought filled my head. ” You gotta live a little.” That was one of her sayings. I can hear her voice right now, ” Katie, you’ve just got to live a little!” So I did. Fastforward many, many years later…I have 8…and I’m getting another one soon. It’s easy to get addicted to tattoos, right? My cousins followed in my path, and now my parents and my sister have ink.

 

Anyway, I digress.

 

That’s how she lived her life. Everyday she was thankful. Everyday she would reflect on the joys in her life. She wrote all of this down, and after she died, as we went through all of her journals and pictures, we saw JOY on every page. She inspired all of us. Even strangers.

Right after I turned 25 and six months before my wedding, She fell ill. Still, she spread her message of joy and love with every single person she knew. I’m not just writing this to write it. I’m writing it to show the absolute magnitude of acceptance of love and life she shared. If you ask ANYONE who ever came in contact with her their lives were better for having her in it.

Honestly, I could write a book about how this woman changed the world on person at a time.

I struggled with God after she died. I wasn’t religious, but I kept thinking if there is a God, why is he taking her away from us? How could he?

 

The day she died, I had a couple hours with her alone while my famiy discussed hospice in the other room. Her eyes were closed. They would never open again. Her chest went up and down, taking in some of her lasts breaths. I held her delicate hand in mind and I wept. This woman was my rock. She was all of ours rock. It was devestating. We all knew she was ready to go, but she kept holding on. My wedding was coming up, and I had spent countless hours talking to her on the phone about it and how important to me it was to me for her to be there.

My tears poured out as I told her, ” It’s ok. You can go now. I know how badly you want to be there, but it’s ok. I will be ok.” I sat with my head on her bed, placing her hand on my cheek. My heart was breaking into a million pieces.

A few hours later, she was gone. Months went by and I couldn’t control my grief. It was too much. I found myself desperate to hear her voice.  I tried to grasp the acceptance of life without her.

It sucked. Really, really sucked.

 

A few months later I got married. It was beautiful. The sun was about so set as we stood under the gazeebo and shared our vows. Everything was perfect. Except one thing. My GG wasn’t there. Nothing could change that. We all tried so hard be brave, but the tears poured and poured.

What happened next was mind blowing.

Here’s two pictures of myself with her.

 

At some point in the evening, my cousin just so happened to be snapping some pictures on the lake. Then she saw this.

 

IMG_2615

 

She found a way to be at my wedding after all.

 

One of my biggest struggles is isolation. I hate being alone. I panic. It sucks. Most of my alcoholism revolved around isolation.

 

Step Two says: We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

This step was challenging at first. I wasn’t sure if there was a God. I thought this was kind of uncessary. I didn’t need God. Fuck that.

 

Then the miracles started to happen. My sponser said to just get on my knees every morning and night and ask God to help keep me sober throuought the day, and then thank him (or her) for keeping my sober another day. I did this for two weeks. I felt nothing. My sponser told me to be patient and kind to myself.

This shit ain’t easy.

Then all of a sudden, while on my knees, I felt the absolute prescence of my Higher Power, my God. The feeling came out nowhere and blew me away. I was stunned. I went from not believing in anything, to suddenly believing in something HUGE.

It still blows my mind.

 

There were many times when I was drinking that I wished I had GG in my life still. I would drink and drink while asking the universe to somehow bring her back to me. I cried when she missed the birth of my children. I cried at Thanksgiving dinner without her. Hell, I cried driving home from work, because I missed her in my life so badly.

 

Then, just today, another miracle happened.

 

Someone said sonething tonight that touched every part of my soul.

 

He said God works in us in amazing ways. We all will die someday. That’s a given. And, we all go through tough challenges, but we’re not alone. We are jealous of angels. Our loved ones and friends have not left our lives for good. Not at all. They stand side by side with our Higher Power. They live with us and in us along side our Higher Power.

It’s incredible. In that very moment I felt a wave of emotions. My grandmother didn’t leave me. She was waiting for me to find my Higher Power. Through him, she is with me. It’s crazy. Insane.

 

I cried on the way home tonight, because that isolation I had been feeling was gone. I am never alone. Ever.

 

It’s a gift. It’s a miracle.

 

My Little Bear.

A lot of things have happened these past few weeks.

 

I got a sunburn.

Lucie learned to climb down the stairs.

Maeve ate a tub of ice cream for breakfast.

Fiona graduated preschool.

 

I have to repeat it over and over, my baby is going to kindergarden in the fall. How did this happen? I blinked and POOF she’s tying her shoes and telling me she would like some ” me time”. This is a first for me as a mother, my first born growing up right before my eyes. Without even realizing it, she became a little girl.

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The toddler days are gone. She doesn’t need me as much as she used to. She radiates and shines with such tenderness and love. She doesn’t need me to hold her hand to walk to the potty. She doesn’t need me to pick out her socks. She doesn’t need me to hold her close after falling asleep in her carseat. She doesn’t need me to tell her how to spell her name. She doesn’t need me to show her how to do the monkey bars or play on the swings.

But, I do. I still need all of those things. The seconds, the minutes, the hours, the days and years that have passed have gone by so quickly. I know that this is part of being a parent. Kids grow. But, my heart tugs to keep her close always. IMG_4607

She asks me to put her to bed and rub her back. After a few minutes, she’ll reach her hand down and put it in mine. She falls asleep holding my hand. That’s a memory I”ll cherish forever.IMG_2213

She sits her sisters down and tries to teach them their colors and ABC’s. She’s quick to grab a paper towl if the baby has spilt something on the floor. She’ll run upstairs for diapers and wipes if we’re all out. She makes sure that we all look both ways when crossing the street. She asks me to tell her about the night she was born, how I became her mommy. She understands why Mama goes to meetings at night sometimes, she says it’s ok. She knows that those meetings help me be a better mommy for her.

 

She is a gift.

 

I know this is all kind of rediculous. She’s just going to kindergarden, which is two blocks from our house. She’ll be there all day monday through Friday. Children go to kindergarden. That’s how it works.

But, how will we make it through the day without her? I want to hold her hand forever and keep her safe. I want to be the one making her lunch. I want to be the one who puts a bandaid on her booboos.

I can’t keep her in my arms forever. I have to share her with the world now. I have to let her open her wings that will take her to places she’s dreamed of. I have to sit back while new friends are made. I have to smile and her beautiful face and know that she’s going to be ok.

 

She is going to soar and I’ll be right here when she needs me. It is true, the days are slow, but the years are fast.

 

Can you imagine how unbelievaby sappy this blog is going to be when she goes off to college? I can’t help myself. I’m a sappy, proud mommy.

 

Oh, the places she’ll go. IMG_2043

Self-care… wait, what’s self-care?

When someone asks me if I have time for myself, I usually crack up.

 

SELF-CARE? Are you kidding me? I haven’t showered in four days, I can’t remember when I brushed my teeth, I don’t know whose socks I”m wearing. I have three girls under five. It’s a miracle that we even leave the house somedays. I mean, I”ve left the house in my pjs and slippers by accident for preschool pick up once or twice.

 

I like simple things. I don’t have time for some 90 min face mask with cucumbers on my eyes. I don’t have time for massages. I don’t have time for manicures. My time goes towards my children. All day. Every day.

(EXCEPT, when grandparents are in town and I throw my children at them, so I can go take a three nap.)

So, anyway, my friend (Hey, Angela!) asked me if I’d like to try some stuff that I could easliy fit into my crazy ass schedule, and create a even just a bit of me time.

Before, I tell you about this stuff, I want you to know that I’m not selling or pressuring  anyone into buying anything. I just really wanted to share this, because this stuff helped me SO much.

There’s this company called Arbonne. I had kind of heard about it through the grapevince, but promptly forgot because…mom brain. So anyway, I tried a few things out and they were pretty awesome. IMG_1875*I liked the bag…*

The first thing I tried was ” Arbonne Essentials”, it’s like a packet of powder you can add to your water. The reason I enjoyed this was because it didn’t taste like other water enhancers I”ve had. It was great and it gave me a little boost.

IMG_2343*The Goods*

I tried out some of this stuff too. I”m a tea snob, but I liked this tea a lot. I actually made ice tea out of it, beacuse it’s 3,000 degrees outside. I tried the shake too (it also came in vanilla), and I mixed it with water. It was ok, but if I had mixed it with almond milk or something like that, it might have been a little more smooth on the way down.

 

By far, my FAVORITE stuff was this…

This is their anti-aging skincare line, and DAMN did I need it. There’s face wash, toner, night repair cream, intensive serum cream, corrective eye cream and more. Once in the morning and once at night, it took me approximately two minutes to add this into my routine. So that’s pretty rad.

I spend most of my time shocked at how different I look from when I was younger. I stare at my wrinkles. I have grey hair popping up everywhere, and I”m constantly tired. That’s called growing up, I suppose. I’m thirty-two in August and being able to take those two minutes into my day for my own self-care is pretty remarkable for my self esteem.

I didn’t love all the samples that were given to me. I didn’t like the mascara, for me it just clumped up my lashes. But, overall, this stuff is pretty good.

 

So, if you are looking for a super simple, healthy way to get some self-care into your life, I would reccomend Arbonne to you. This isn’t an advertisement, this is just an honest review I wanted to share with my crew.

If you think this stuff sounds rad, you can hit up this lady, Angela at http://www.angelachristou.arbonne.com.

 

WOO!

Firsts.

We all have *firsts*. First kiss. First concert. First apartment. First airplane ride. First fight. First sip of coffee. First time lying. First time laughing. First birthday party. First day at college. I could go on and on about all the firsts we have in our lives, but it would take all day.

Every single first becomes part of your life. They serve a purpose in molding who  we are.

 

Well, what if you basically slept through five years of firsts?

I did that.

 

Alcohol consumed me and made me forget. There was no room to try new things or experience any firsts, because alcohol selfish. Alcohol takes away all those happy memories. Alcohol wants you to hide your emotions. Alcohol wants you to reach that bottom of the bottle. Alcohol is a real fucking jerk.

 

I didn’t want to feel anything. Happy or sad. I just wanted to be happy and thought that the only route to that emotion was alcohol. I just stuffed it way, way down.

Then I exploded. You can’t go on like that forever.

 

The first day of sobriety. On that first day, I knew I had to deal with some shit and it wasn’t going to be easy. But, I was sober. I went to my first AA meeting and immediately I was surrounded with other women like me. Women who had realized how I felt. I felt relief. I felt shame. I felt anger. I felt accepted. I felt love.

 

I felt emotions that made me realize that I was, indeed, an alcoholic.

 

I felt. I felt for the first time in along time. I opened up my heart and let myself feel everything.

 

I felt comfort when I ran into my husbands arms after sobbing and shaking with fear. I felt scared saying goodbye to my best friend, alcohol. I cried so hard, I popped blood vessels around my eye.

I felt confident when I didn’t relapse on vacation. I felt joy when I watched my daughters in the sand and ocean. I said to myself, ” I am sober. I can feel these things. I can make memories again.”

I felt shock and disbelief when my youngest daughter took off her diaper and chucked it at my head. I felt silly, because it was kind of hilarious that she chose to do that.

 

I felt calm when we hosted Easter at our house this year. It was my first sober holiday. I expected to be anxious, but I felt peace. I knew I could get through it. I felt like God was holding my hand, keeping me safe from that first drink.

 

I felt excited to watch my beautiful five year old graduate preschool. I’ll remember her being that little forever. I felt proud as I watched her on stage during her dance recital.I felt so much happiness at her birthday party. Birthday parties are tricky. I always thought birthday parties were actually for the moms who gave birth and deserved a drink. I would fill my cup up with wine as much as possible. I would then start a fight with my husband and black out.

 

I felt thankful that I was able to see her blow out her candles on her cake.

 

I felt safe knowing that my Higher Power was with me at all times, and lost all feelings of wanting a drink that day.

 

I can’t go back. I can’t rewind and experience my firsts from the past. All I can do is, try to feel and express every emotion that pops up. My sobriety helps me see things with clear eyes. I take it day by day. I know that there will be hundreds of new experiences to see and feel for the rest of my life. I welcome it. I’m open.

 

Bring it on.