Since the day I was born, beer has been an omnipresent staple in my life.
Before I tasted wine, which would become my drink of choice and also the nail in my coffin, so to speak, before mommy wine culture was an even thing, before my relationship with alcohol would be labeled as problematic, before my recovery, if you call it that, or my discovery, if you don’t, before my sober coach training or expertise in the alcohol free space, before I became the person I am today, before I knew anything about alcohol, there was beer. Beer was my first sip. Beer was tightly woven into the tapestry of my identity. It still is. In short, I love beer.
In some ways, falling in love with beer was my destiny.
My parents were both beer drinkers and beer lovers who met in a local beer tent. I was born in a small town that was home to more bars than churches. The local taverns had more worshippers than the parishes. My hometown is located in a state whose Major League Baseball team is named after...
What do you do on the weekends when you are sober?
Isn’t it boring?
It’s relaxing, productive, and fulfilling.
I had no idea how to spend my time when I first quit drinking.
I was antsy, irritated, and annoyed.
Alcohol had removed my ability to find pleasure in anything but alcohol.
For the first time in a long time, this weekend I had few plans and obligations.
I thought this would be a perfect example of what a “normal” weekend looks like.
Saturday I woke up early and had coffee with my husband,
in our quiet living room, while the kids sleep in.
I welcome the spring sun and the bird song, in the morning these days.
I had gotten in a habit of sleeping in during the dark, winter season.
I prefer an earlier rising, so I am happy to wake up early without an alarm, even on a weekend.
It starts my day off right.
I welcome the day, instead of curse the day, because (Hallelujah!) I am not hungover.