Tag: anxiety

I guffawed when my husband showed me the four packages of bold-colored Christmas bulbs he bought to replace the way-too-dim strands we used last year.

Never in my 20 or so years of experience with interior illumination has the number of lights I own — however many that might be — been enough to cover the entire tree. Without fail, Hubby has had to run out and buy more, while I stand there staring at the bare top section and shaking my head. I can’t look down, of course, or I’ll go blind from the Griswold-level wattage emanating from the bottom-most branches.

I didn’t say experience made me good at interior illumination. Damn spacial awareness issues! 😫

Anyway, this year we witnessed something of a Christmas miracle, because four strands of lights were exactly the right amount for seven feet of Fraser Fir. I finished decorating the tree so fast I didn’t even have the chance to think about my old favorite hall-decking companion. 🥃

Not for those two hours, anyway.

It can be difficult for non-addicted people to understand that just because it’s been X number of days/years since your last “fix,” and you appear to be “killing it” in recovery, that doesn’t mean you’re totally OK with confronting the same old “people, places and things” from your drinking life.

It doesn’t mean you’re “cured.”

Familiar “triggers,” or situations in which you drank to self-soothe for years and years until it became an ingrained habit, can be very powerful, no matter how much time has passed. A certain person, or even a feeling, can send you reeling off in an anxiety spiral.

Then, add the ready availability of your go-to “medication,” your drug of choice looking you square in the face, and it’s not so easy to “act normal” or play it cool.

So, when I was overcome by a sudden, very unexpected sobbing fit on Sunday morning before we left for a family barbecue — the first gathering on our schedule in more than 2 months, and only the third time we were venturing out in a non-work capacity since COVID-19 quarantine closed everything down — I knew my husband was not the only one to talk to about it. He’s wonderfully supportive, and I 💯 would not be 428 days sober today without him…but he’s not an alcoholic.

A healthy support system absolutely starts at home, but for me, a well-rounded recovery requires some occasional, non-blog branching out.