First, an update: The missing harmonica has been found. Thanks to all who lit a candle or put in a good word with Saint Anthony. I can now annoy my new downstairs neighbors in at least seven different keys.
I'm turning 42 this Sunday, and celebrating with a noontime Gobshites show at T-Bones on Main Street in Plymouth, Mass. Family and friends will be there, and I'm really looking forward to it, although I'm not entirely sure why. It's not like it's a big milestone birthday, so what's the big deal? I think it's because I'm happier and more at ease this year than I have been in the past. It will be 49 days since I stopped drinking, and I'm looking forward to things and setting personal goals. Still in financial purgatory, but I'm actively trying to rectify that situation, and getting help, love, and support from some pretty amazing folks.
So earlier this week I was without one of my medications. I had called in a refill last week, however my doctor says she never got a request from the pharmacy, and so it was that I ran out over the weekend. Things seemed to be okay for a couple of days, and then on Tuesday everything started to go sideways. I was very anxious and agitated the entire day, and I just could not wait to get out of work and be anywhere else. Of course "anywhere else" was just as bleak an option, so I just stayed at work and got edgier and edgier. When I finally did get out of there, I called to see if my scrip had been filled, and then when I found out it hadn't, left a message with my doctor to please get back to them and make sure it gets done.
I don't know if it was the lack of the meds in my system, or the anxiety about it, or a little bit of both that made me such a wreck, but I decided the next morning when I woke up that I did not want to go through that again, and so I took what was literally a "Mental Health Day." Luckily, the prescription was refilled on Wednesday, and everything seems to be getting back into balance.
The one thing, though, that fascinated me when I thought about it later was that at no time do I remember thinking "I need a drink" that day. It may have been a fleeting notion once or twice, but I honestly don't recall having an actual craving for a drink. And while it was hard to see it that way at the time, I consider this a real accomplishment. I haven't had a problem with resisting alcohol in social situations, but a day like Tuesday would have sent me right to the package store previously, and then all the good work I've done would have been for naught. I didn't, and it wasn't. I can honestly say I'm proud of myself, maybe for the first time in years.
Happy Birthday to me.
No comments:
Post a Comment