I still don’t understand this. If my days convince me it wasn’t that bad, it wasn’t a big deal, and that it was in fact nothing, why do my nights tell me so very drastically otherwise? It either was or it wasn’t. How could there be a grey area? Sober(ish) me is convinced that I’m …
I said tonight would be the night. The night I take those first steps (for the hundredth time). The night that I would push back that first drink of the evening. It doesn’t need to be so early. Push it a little, wait an hour, 2 if you’re feeling good. I thought I could do …
The Friday before a 3 day weekend. It’s been a long week in its own right, but this makes it feel even longer. There is a part of me that has come to dread the weekends. It’s like I have no excuse to feel bad. My husband willingly and graceful gives me a break from …