Saturday Morning Post

Long nights, late mornings!



Gooooooood morning, everyone!  No, wait, it's over seven hours later than "morning..."


Gooooooood afterNOON everyone!  Ya, that's better... :)

Abbie has been having some life difficulties (as you may have read), and another one has struck.  I won't get into any details, as that story is her's to tell, I will just say that she's had to deal with more life stuff and that she's okay and hopes to get something up next week (if she can, no pressure, Abbie!). She wanted me to let her faithful readers know that she is indeed alright, but was unable to get her post up for this week.  She is doing what needs to be done to take care of herself, her family, her recovery, and her Higher Power.  These are things that we really press here at Drunkless and we stand by Abbie for taking the time she needs.

Long nights usually mean late mornings, or at least, that's been the case in my history.  What I find amazing is that, in recovery, I find ways to cope with hard news and tragedies quite differently.  In my past, that always meant grabbing a bottle:

Got an overdue bill to pay?
Guess I should buy EXTRA alcohol!  That way, if there's any money left after the purchase, maybe I can pay off just enough of the electric bill to keep it on and then blankly, drunkenly, stare at the TV. I mean, after all, I don't have enough time to do anything else!

Experiencing the death of a loved one?
Need to buy the extra alcohol to have the strength to plan the burial and memorial service.  Decisions are often best made when the tremendous hangover and shaking can be calmed with a number of heavy gulps.  Besides, a family member can drive there and back.  (And yes, this is the thought process I went through...)

Need to buy dinner for the family tonight?
Better get the extra liquor and hide it under the seat of the truck so when the kids say they're hungry, I can show them my empty wallet and claim to be broke -- so "eat the [cheap] hotdogs in the fridge and be thankful. I'm not even eating anything tonight!" I'm such a hero for going hungry for them ... and then sneaking the pre-purchased bottle of alcohol into my room and getting plastered.

Boy am I glad days like that are behind me.  Today, long nights and late mornings don't come with the severe price of major dehydration, hangovers, and inevitable, unstoppable shakes -- not to mention the angry crankieness that comes along with it, nor the self-hate and internal death threats.  No, these days, my long nights are usually up with sober friends, or helping someone through a crisis, or working on projects that I hope will bring someone some kind of comfort and hope for themselves.

That's what recovery has brought to me, a new definition.  A new purpose.  And the ability to survive Long Nights, Late Mornings.

We're not only "not a glum lot," we're also a very "blessed lot."