It’s Sunday, which is usually a day for the gym and lunch and/or river or hiking or just hanging out with the fam. Some Sundays, however, I get to take a break and enjoy the silence while the Spouse Extraordinaire does all of the above. Today was such a break.
These breaks, these “days off,” used to consist of me, a box of wine, and either a book on the deck in the hammock, or baking in the kitchen with the same box of wine. Or vodka and lemonade. Or beer. I wasn’t picky.
Whatever the liquid portion of the equation was, the time was spent not in deep reflection and Useful Work ™, but in just zoning out, drinking and not at all being present in my life. I could bake bread in my sleep, and I feel like I did sleepwalk through a lot of those days. I was so prickly and uncomfortable in my skin that, even alone, I drank to dull the edges.
I love mysteries, and like reading the online ones. (When the kids were busy toddlers I only read anthologies of short stories because I didn’t have the staying power or time for novels.) So I was playing all these online mysteries, drunk, and now that I’m sober and playing them the website says I’ve read and attempted to solve like 90% of the available 5 minute mysteries. Which sort of sucks because I don’t remember doing so. It’s funny in a way that’s just sad.
What today has looked like so far: I’m in Alaska, so gardening is a HUGE part of summer. June 1 is the official plant date-and especially this year, planting any earlier was a risk because frost can happen any time.
Today I put in carrots, more lettuces, flowers, and transplanted a bunch of stuff. Digging up the old dirt was like peeling away those old, fuzzy, messy, not-in-focus days of drinking and notbeingpresent. I love the soft drift of great new dirt, finding the ends of super long roots that don’t need to be in my garden (!), planting seeds and transplanting fragile little roots.
My sobriety is a fragile little root, taking hold in this amazing world full of things to do that aren’t going to hurt me if I let them be within my awareness. I’m digging out that old, overgrown, dying root of addiction and shame and guilt. Daily work on this new recovery garden is a beautiful, sunshiney gift.
(And now I can create a new account and reread all those mysteries…and remember the solutions!) 😀