Since I am prone to relapse, I have chosen to have an alcohol-free home. Since SO never drinks it is easy for he and I. But . . . last week his daughter and son-in-law came to visit for a week. He is in recovery. And she drinks in front of him frequently. Alcohol is not his DOC, but we all know that story. Anyway. . . knowing my situation she asked if I minded if she had cider or whatever. I said to please put it in the garage fridge. I rarely go out there to get things. But when I do/did, seeing the darned stuff was like poking me with a cattle prod. I didn’t want it but had the “There it is” shock. It was weird.
And then we went out to eat. She was the only one drinking. And yum-yumming up her drink. Telling the waitress how fabulous her drink was. Chatting it up and announcing to we three non-drinkers how wonderful it was. I kind of wanted to say “will ya shut up already?”, but knew it was MY problem. She should be able to drink if she wants, right?
Have I mentioned that women who say “I love my wine” or “I have to have my wine” make me feel like throttling them? My wine? Just ticks me off.
So, yesterday I went to a friend’s house for Easter. Again, booze in the garage fridge. I had to go put overflow food in a few times. There was a corked bottle of wine. Old me, drinking me, would have taken a swig for the heck of it. A BIG swig. Then obsessed over the wine in the fridge. And made excuses to go out to the garage. But, I really didn’t want it. And I didn’t care that people were drinking beer. And not a one was even tipsy.
So, I am noticing my reaction to alcohol and people drinking. Just that . . . noticing. Trying not to overthink. Trying to not resent. It is an interesting time for me. I am really starting to accept myself as a non-drinker. I like how it makes me feel . . . for the most part.