Saturday.

Saturday. The weekend always feels like forever for it to get here, then it’s always gone so fast. I’ve been up since 4:30; we just got a new kitten, and that’s like having a newborn. I get up, sit on the side of the bed, and chug last night’s warm lime Gatorade, check the time on my phone, see Michael isn’t in our bed, grab the cat, and head down my hall.

This Saturday was different, familiar but it’s been a while. My head didn’t pound, my face wasn’t warm and swollen. I wasn’t hungover, not even in the slightest. I set the kitten down in the litter box and made my way to the coffee maker. Michael’s sleeping in the living room with the kids; they had a sleepover. My mom was over yesterday to watch the kids while I worked. I recently just left my previous company after two years, which I feel confidently contributed to my mental decline and sobriety relapse. Which is strange… because it’s also the place I was able to achieve my one year at. Making coffee, I realized my mom only left me with about a cup of creamer left. Lovely.

Today is my count day 4. I wrote on a sticky note at work March 20th and left it on my desk. That’s when my sobriety journey starts again. Last year was rough, and this year, so far, hasn’t been the easiest, and I unfortunately always return to the thing I know best, alcohol. Last night, I expressed to Michael how badly I wanted to stop at that same old gas station and buy that same old bottle of booze. He asked, why? I took offense to that. I don’t know? I’m an alcoholic. Is that what he wanted to hear? He changed his question and asked, “Why do you want to stop? What made you realize?” or something along those lines. I was already upset. I told him it was a dumb question and that he should just be proud that I didn’t. I found a podcast recently on Spotify called “F****** Sober,” and I absolutely love it. I listen to that on my commute to work, and the way it’s written, it feels really good to have found something to relate to so much. It helps me not stop at that same ole gas station.

By now my cup of coffee is cold, and I’m sitting at my computer trying not to wake Michael. He has been patient with me. He has been more than understanding; he has already been through this with me before. How dare I get upset with him last night over a question? He was trying to help. He was trying to help me think of a title for this blog. I was a jerk. He purchased me a new meditation mat for my birthday to help me get back into the things I love because I expressed how lost I am. I have yet to use it. Today, I start that. Writing this blog is the start of healing my inner self and helping my sobriety. If there’s one thing I learned from being sober for a year before, it’s leg work. You have to do the leg work. It’s more than just not drinking. It’s healing your inner self.