Sobriety:
35 days sober to date.
I enjoy the newly achieved mental clarity. Being able to designated drive [automatic transmission only, please] at a moment's notice is reassuring. My wallet enjoys the $40 of extra padding every Monday morning.
Alcohol:
Alcohol is a toxin, a poison that I pump into my body in order to enjoy the sensations it brings to my body and mind. Those sensations do not support my growth or development. Nor do they help me cope with my sufferings and fears. Alcohol is a wet blank I use to drape over my dusty old furniture in hopes of transforming the object into something smaller, more managable. Conspicuous camoflage.
I really do enjoy the substance itself, vodka tastes very nice, Hefeveissen Beers are smooth on my pallet, citrusy cocktails are my favorite. One sip every once in a long while is all I have allowed myself and it seems that is enough. I have taken such a strong liking to abstinence (the sexual sort involuntarily) that my taste buds don't miss drinking two beers with dinner, or four cocktails and a beer on Saturday. One mouthful is enough, just so i can remember the initial warm tingle, preceeding full flavor, burning sensations as the cool liquid reaches the corners of my mouth and flows down my throat. After those rosey, fuzzy pink images and muscle memories flood my brain, the ugly, dark, throbbing hangovers, nights spent over a toilet and drunken regerets following shortly thereafter and remind me with viceral stomach churns why I chose this path.
Alcohol is not my friend, at least not right now, it isn't.
35 days sober to date.
I enjoy the newly achieved mental clarity. Being able to designated drive [automatic transmission only, please] at a moment's notice is reassuring. My wallet enjoys the $40 of extra padding every Monday morning.
Alcohol:
Alcohol is a toxin, a poison that I pump into my body in order to enjoy the sensations it brings to my body and mind. Those sensations do not support my growth or development. Nor do they help me cope with my sufferings and fears. Alcohol is a wet blank I use to drape over my dusty old furniture in hopes of transforming the object into something smaller, more managable. Conspicuous camoflage.
I really do enjoy the substance itself, vodka tastes very nice, Hefeveissen Beers are smooth on my pallet, citrusy cocktails are my favorite. One sip every once in a long while is all I have allowed myself and it seems that is enough. I have taken such a strong liking to abstinence (the sexual sort involuntarily) that my taste buds don't miss drinking two beers with dinner, or four cocktails and a beer on Saturday. One mouthful is enough, just so i can remember the initial warm tingle, preceeding full flavor, burning sensations as the cool liquid reaches the corners of my mouth and flows down my throat. After those rosey, fuzzy pink images and muscle memories flood my brain, the ugly, dark, throbbing hangovers, nights spent over a toilet and drunken regerets following shortly thereafter and remind me with viceral stomach churns why I chose this path.
Alcohol is not my friend, at least not right now, it isn't.
