Last night was the yearly tribe gathering at a local festival/carnival/concert event near our area of the city. As tradition, we gather there for wine tasting, check out vendor booths, eat crap-crap-crap, drink lots-lots-lots, let our kids run around the carnival, and enjoy a grand finale of hearing a local band play near the beer tent. We look forward to it for months. We buy wine tasting tickets. We pack sweatshirts for the temperature change at sunset, and discuss where we will set up our camping chairs for the concert. We figure out who's picking up whom and where we'll meet. We decide whose kid/kids get to drive us home on their permit or newly acquired driver's license. It's great anticipation and excitement. It's camaraderie in its finest form.
Last night was very different.
Until last night, I hadn't been in a situation for the last 54 days that produced any craving or sadness about not drinking. Last night was different.
Not all my friends chose to participate in the wine tasting, so I wasn't alone in other activities. I didn't miss the wine tasting... as in tasting the wine. But oh, wow, I missed the wine tasting, as in sitting at a table with my friends and being a part of the fun. They were in it for two hours and came out walking the familiar line between not being able to stand up and dancing like crazy to the music of the concert. I remember how it feels. I do not have to close my eyes. I do not have to dive into the recesses of my memory to recall it. I remember how it feels. High. Free. Open. Fun. Wild. Daring. Lost. Giddy. And damn it, I missed that feeling.
One friend was drunkenly trying to convince me that she was having fun and I wasn't. I was having a different kind of fun. I was mostly sitting instead of standing. I was talking instead of yelling. I was listening to the music and actually hearing it. But those things look dull to people who are drunk, and it sucked to have someone--A FRIEND-- in my ear trying to make me feel bad about an important choice I've made. I understand that her comments and attitude are more about her than me. She was not so much trying to put down my behavior as condone her own. But it hurt anyway.
A conversation with another friend:
Friend: "So why did you decide to completely quit drinking?"
Me: "I couldn't control how much I was drinking. It was out of hand."
Friend: "No way! You were not out of control. You didn't drink that much."
Me: "Yes, I did."
Friend: "Well, it's not like you were drinking all the time during the work week."
Me: "Yes, I was. I was drinking every day."
Friend: "A lot of people have a drink after work."
Me: "I wasn't having one drink. I was having five or six. Every single day."
Friend: "You were drinking that much every day, even during the work week? Alone?" (my husband doesn't drink)
Me: "Yes."
Friend: "Oh."
**Crickets**
It was a bold admission. No one knows how much I used to drink. To be honest with her felt really good. I didn't make me feel bad about myself, even though it was a lot of information to throw at someone who had no clue (like everyone else). And sweet friend she is, accepted my words and my honesty and moved on to other conversations.
I am happy today that I slept in only because I stayed up late binge-watching
Better Call Saul - not because my stomach is cramped and I can't handle the daylight... or standing up, for that matter.
I am happy today because I feel hydrated, rested, calm, collected. I am ready for Monday morning.
I am happy today because I don't hate myself today.
I don't hate myself today! Last night may not have been ideal - and I may have to rethink the event next year if I'm not in a much better place (please tell me I'll be in a better place!!!), but I got through it with my sparkling water and my dearest friends. I have no regrets this morning, except that plate of loaded french fries that absolutely was not necessary.
Temptation's Mirage Moment:
A mirage is that hallucination parched people sometimes experience in a hot desert. A real desire for water and the shimmering heat of the sand play disorienting games with the mind and emotions. A refreshing oasis seems to appear in the distance promising the happiness of a quenched desire.
A thirsty person might know that no oasis has previously existed in that location. But his desire to be happy, fueled by the hope that this time he just might find happiness there, or at least relief from misery, tempts him to believe the vision. If he yields, he discovers his hope was hopeless and his desire dashed because the oasis was a sham.
In temptation, the mirage moment occurs as we are tempted by a vision promising happiness. Some shimmering oasis of promised joy or relief from despair appears where God said it shouldn’t be.
The mirage’s appearance taps into our real desire to be happy. Our disoriented emotions begin to respond to this desire with a feeling of hope — hope that maybe this time, even if we’ve been disappointed many times before, the oasis will quench our desire.
We gain the strength of the temptation we resist. Fingers crossed that last night's experience will bring me continued strength.
Last Minute Update: Just received a text from a friend who was at last night's festivities. Last night while everyone was busy drinking and dancing, I chatted with her husband, who is also a very good friend. She just texted that her husband commented to her last night after our conversation that "she seems like a whole new person." I NEEDED THAT!!! 💖
