I hadn't had one in a while.
Then this morning, after I got the kids breakfast I went back up to bed and fell asleep.
And it came.
One of those dreams that feels like it's real and you wake up not knowing, and questioning.
I was drinking. And happy. And the life of the party. There was endless wine, and smiles, and I moved effortlessly through rooms without second guessing myself or hearing anxious thoughts, or checking my reflection in the mirror to make sure my skirt wasn't stuck somewhere...
And in this dream, I convinced myself that I could drink again. That it was okay. That I was ok, and could handle a drink here and there. Or five.
But I know, I know, that the dream is not reality. That I cannot drink. It is my choice, by necessity. It is my choice for me, for my family, for my sanity.
It's a choice and yet it isn't.
~~~~~
The rest of the day felt a little shaky. It always does after one of those dreams. Even now, as I sit on our porch, look out at the river, sip my raspberry and lime seltzer and watch the birds on the power line... I still feel the reality of sobriety hanging over, onto, and in me.
Freeing and heavy all at once.
So I cling to what I know.
Love.
My family.
Faith.
Sobriety.
And I take deep breaths and wait out the shaky.
{and the little ones who make me giggle help to make the leaning into the shaky a little more tolerable... }
