Thanksgiving

I have so much to be thankful for. Top of mind, of course, is my family. But there are also other things, like where we live, how we live. That we have heat, hot water, a home. It's hard to not think of all the people without these very basic things, and how they're managing to cope.

I am also incredibly grateful for the gift of sobriety, which I have given myself. Not drinking is a real relief. A few months before I really quit, I read a piece by Garrison Keillor about his own sobriety. The thing that struck close to home, despite his hateful comments about gay families,was that when he decided to quit it took the question of quitting, cutting back, rationing - all the things we do to avoid the inevitable - off the table. We had Thanksgiving dinner at our friends' home. It was just a few people; their family, and a friend from their son's school. I ran into our friend G, who was hosting the dinner with her husband and son coming out of Whole Foods the day before Thanksgiving. The first thing she asked me was about whether I was okay drinking vodka instead of gin, and I told her that I had quit drinking. She was the first person I'vve told, and it felt good to get it out there, and also reinforces my commitment to not drink again. While at the dinner, I drank fizzy water, chatted with G's parents, and noticed that no one was really drinking that much. But the wine came out during dinner, and so did the Scotch, which A drank as well. I was fine with it, probably because it got my mind started on what I would have been doing at the moment if I were drinking. I know I would have had too small a glass for my vodka and tonic. I know I would have been creeping around for constant refills, thinking no one notices, but they always do. I would have never abandoned my glass. It would have been in my hand at all times. I would have been unpleasantly full and drunk - not a pleasant feeling. I would have wondered if I was slurring. I would have still been going, probably on red wine, while everyone else had already switched to chamomile or mint tea. I would have breathed alcohol fumes all over my children as we rode home in an overheated cab (I don't want this to be part of their childhood memories like it is with me and my parents). I would have woke this morning in a fog of guilt, shame and of course, with a hammering headache and sour stomach. Instead I felt clear, clear, clear. And all those things that went through my mind as a drinker, all those things I felt the day after, are all off the table.