I’m convinced I should start a seminar called, “Why I Decided To Pierce My Nose” with a follow up retreat called, “What On Earth Gave Me The Idea To Get A Tattoo.” As many times as I get asked, I’d sell out arenas answering those questions.
Oof, has it been a rough couple of weeks. Sure, I didn’t drink, but man did I wish I could.
One of the worst jobs I ever had was working as a bank teller. I had to be on the front lines of a not-so-great corporation and deal with adult temper tantrums on a daily basis. For an optimist with anxiety, it was emotionally draining work, to say the least.
As I approach three months of sobriety, I think back on what has felt like a lifetime. It’s weird because three months isn’t that long, but my life has changed so drastically since I gave up drinking, I feel like I’m living a totally different life. My life.
This past week I celebrated two months of sobriety. How did I celebrate, you ask? I went to the club.
Alcohol? What alcohol? It hasn’t crossed my mind all week.
Disclaimer: I am aware the situation outlined in this article is not unique to one gender or sexuality. However, it is written by, and from the perspective of, a straight woman. Feel free to change pronouns as you read to suit your situation.