This is my happy place.
And by THIS I mean sobriety.
I was on a walk yesterday. Walks are where I always have my deepest thoughts. I was thinking about my life. I was a happy go lucky young gal since birth.I know this from my mom’s reports and also I have picture proof of me with a big bald head and a jolly gummy smile.
I was meant to be happy. It was my most natural state of being. Unless there was discomfort, I felt good inside. I continued to have a sunny, upbeat, optimistic disposition about me, despite a few major bumps in my young life.
This automatically joyful girl changed around age 12. The same age I had my first sip of alcohol. How interesting that this went hand in hand. I didn’t drink because I felt good. I drank because I suddenly felt bad. I looked around and no one was as happy as me. I thought maybe I am not supposed to be happy. Maybe this is wrong. I am not supposed to be such a sunshine-y girl. No one likes me that way. I have to be...
Last week, I had dinner with some of the sober babes that I met on a sober hiking retreat in Sedona, a month ago. Most of us live in Chicagoland. From the larger group, four of us were available to get together. We picked the most central spot for dinner. Lucky for me, that landed close to home.
I was the last to arrive and when I approached the table I was welcomed immediately. Everyone got up out of their chairs. We hugged and squealed with delight at our reunion. It was so wonderful to see each other again. We were familiar with each other, having spent days and nights on a soul filled retreat together. We were also brand new, having taken off our hiking boots, and donned our pretty sundresses for the occasion. It was a thrill to be meeting up again, in real life, so close to home, solidifying the beginning of meaningful new friendships.
Our dinner lasted as long as it possibly could.
We ordered drinks. A round of the signature mocktail...