This past weekend marked one year alcohol-free. For one whole year, I’ve intentionally chosen my mental health over alcohol. The choice came from waking up on a Sunday morning and feeling as if something was terribly wrong. I couldn’t name what exactly was wrong, but something needed to be fixed and fixed ASAP. I was panicked, scared, and stressed. I looked at my Husband and said, “Something is very wrong. I don’t know what, but I feel like it’s all about to fall apart.” The reality was everything was fine. My brain was just working against a large consumption of alcohol the night before. Drinking was never a large part of my life, but Friday and Saturday nights usually mean 2-3 drinks and a glass of wine on a weeknight date night. It was enough to throw my brain off balance and actively work against my medication. I could take my meds at the exact same time every day, but they weren’t doing any good when I was adding alcohol to the mix. I decided enough was enough. I had done so much work to reduce anxiety in my life and knew the biggest roadblock I was still facing was…
It was the day you woke up asking God, “What’s wrong with me?” It was the moment the thoughts were overwhelming so you crawled into bed and cried yourself to sleep. It was the morning you spent trying to figure out why the panic was there at the same time you had to calm yourself. It was the day you googled “what is wrong with me?” It was the journal entry that made you realize even talking about the shame would leave you feeling shameful, so you decided to keep it to yourself. It was the thought “someone has it worse than me, I should be grateful” playing on repeat. Maybe it was the day that made you feel like even leaving bed was too much to ask. Those moments, those heavy days, they’re really hard. I know, I’ve been there. It feels like you’re lifting the weight of your entire life, feeling the decades stack upon each other as the future grows darker. You think to yourself, “I can’t keep going like this. If the rest is going to be this hard, I can’t keep going like this. I need help.” I wish I could make you see how…
Alcohol-free anniversary: the first year
This past weekend marked one year alcohol-free. For one whole year, I’ve intentionally chosen my mental health over alcohol. The choice came from waking up on a Sunday morning and feeling as if something was terribly wrong. I couldn’t name what exactly was wrong, but something needed to be fixed and fixed ASAP. I was panicked, scared, and stressed. I looked at my Husband and said, “Something is very wrong. I don’t know what, but I feel like it’s all about to fall apart.” The reality was everything was fine. My brain was just working against a large consumption of alcohol the night before. Drinking was never a large part of my life, but Friday and Saturday nights usually mean 2-3 drinks and a glass of wine on a weeknight date night. It was enough to throw my brain off balance and actively work against my medication. I could take my meds at the exact same time every day, but they weren’t doing any good when I was adding alcohol to the mix. I decided enough was enough. I had done so much work to reduce anxiety in my life and knew the biggest roadblock I was still facing was…
For the Hard Days
It was the day you woke up asking God, “What’s wrong with me?” It was the moment the thoughts were overwhelming so you crawled into bed and cried yourself to sleep. It was the morning you spent trying to figure out why the panic was there at the same time you had to calm yourself. It was the day you googled “what is wrong with me?” It was the journal entry that made you realize even talking about the shame would leave you feeling shameful, so you decided to keep it to yourself. It was the thought “someone has it worse than me, I should be grateful” playing on repeat. Maybe it was the day that made you feel like even leaving bed was too much to ask. Those moments, those heavy days, they’re really hard. I know, I’ve been there. It feels like you’re lifting the weight of your entire life, feeling the decades stack upon each other as the future grows darker. You think to yourself, “I can’t keep going like this. If the rest is going to be this hard, I can’t keep going like this. I need help.” I wish I could make you see how…