From Hangovers to Hanging Out
Today I am grateful for the hope I feel as each new day dawns. I am also grateful to spend a nice evening with other recovering people.
There were many Saturday nights in my drinking days that I ended up pretty drunk and woke up with an unpleasant hangover on Sunday mornings. I would get a Mountain Dew or two after church for my cotton mouth. The carbonation, caffeine, and sugar would revive me a bit. I don't drink Mountain Dew anymore. (I don't drink pop much at all.)
One of the ways I would "punish" myself on hangover mornings was to go for a run. I would often be replaying the evening before in my head or trying to fill in the blanks created by blackouts. Many times on those runs I vowed to quit, to do better, to never drink again, to be a better person, to have some control. The good thing about those runs is that they helped me feel better physically even though they were tough runs. I would sweat out some of the alcohol and get some free endorphins.
But until I reached out and asked for help, I couldn't quit on my own. Until I realized I would need others and a power greater than myself to pull me out of my active alcoholism, my pattern continued. Drink. Vow to quit. Start again. Sometimes days later, weeks later, but sometimes the very next night.
That is why evenings like last night mean so much to me. To be able to spend time with other recovering people and hear their stories serves to remind me of what I need to keep doing. Recovery is a gift I certainly never want to take for granted. Hanging out with folks like me, people who understand the daily challenges we face, people who give me hope by sharing their own experiences and what works for them.
Hanging out with other recovering alcoholics and addicts is always an inspiration to me. Thanks to our friends who invited us to join them last evening, for my husband for joining me, and the other friend who was also able to accompany us. I can't do this on my own. Thanks for being here!
There were many Saturday nights in my drinking days that I ended up pretty drunk and woke up with an unpleasant hangover on Sunday mornings. I would get a Mountain Dew or two after church for my cotton mouth. The carbonation, caffeine, and sugar would revive me a bit. I don't drink Mountain Dew anymore. (I don't drink pop much at all.)
One of the ways I would "punish" myself on hangover mornings was to go for a run. I would often be replaying the evening before in my head or trying to fill in the blanks created by blackouts. Many times on those runs I vowed to quit, to do better, to never drink again, to be a better person, to have some control. The good thing about those runs is that they helped me feel better physically even though they were tough runs. I would sweat out some of the alcohol and get some free endorphins.
But until I reached out and asked for help, I couldn't quit on my own. Until I realized I would need others and a power greater than myself to pull me out of my active alcoholism, my pattern continued. Drink. Vow to quit. Start again. Sometimes days later, weeks later, but sometimes the very next night.
That is why evenings like last night mean so much to me. To be able to spend time with other recovering people and hear their stories serves to remind me of what I need to keep doing. Recovery is a gift I certainly never want to take for granted. Hanging out with folks like me, people who understand the daily challenges we face, people who give me hope by sharing their own experiences and what works for them.
Hanging out with other recovering alcoholics and addicts is always an inspiration to me. Thanks to our friends who invited us to join them last evening, for my husband for joining me, and the other friend who was also able to accompany us. I can't do this on my own. Thanks for being here!
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