One Day Accident Free

I worked in a factory once. It was a plastic, heat, 3M something or other factory. The point is I worked in one. A place where you had to clock in and out. A place you were assigned a pair of safety glasses (in my case two, because I dropped the first pair out of my pocket and ran over them), and there was a sign that hung above the entrance that said, “__ Days Accident Free.” I always liked that sign, mainly because it usually have a high number in the blank spot, something like 88. None of that has anything to do with what I’m here to tell you today, except that maybe if I had a sign like that in my house it would say, “__ Days Anxiety-induced Drinking To the Point of Vomiting Over the Side of the Hot Tub Free” and I’d currently be wiping the slate clean to start over at 1 again.

These are some rough days y’all. But as I laid in my bed Saturday night, or really early Sunday morning, and watched it spin around me I certainly remember a loud, booming voice coming out of somewhere to say, “Hey Girl, you’re too old for this actual shit.” And that voice was right. But here’s the thing, I didn’t intend to drink that much. And honestly, factually, I didn’t drink anymore than I normally do, but I did forget to eat dinner.

But here’s the other thing: I’m drinking more than I usually do these days. I suspect a lot of us are, and we need to keep an eye on that, ya dig? I was reminded yesterday. And I know what you’ll say: You’ll say, “Yes girl, me too!” Or maybe you’ll say, “Ohnothankyou I don’t drink and you shouldn’t either.” Or maybe you’ll be like, “This shit is rough. It feels like there is no end in sight and every once in awhile we need to let go of some of that control we so desperately try to give ourselves when the world feels like it’s spinning out of control, and for some of us it’s shopping online, for others it’s smoking that one cigarette you have hiding under the loose 2×4 in your shed, or maybe it’s a bottle of wine with your husband in your hot tub once a month. Whatever it is, we need to be okay with doing it. Every once in awhile.” Is that you? Did you say that? I hope so.

I hope so.

In this shitty, upside down world, I’m okay with my choices. Honestly. If I wasn’t y’all know I’d tell you so. But I’m not okay with pushing 40 and being hungover. Nay, nay. That shit’s for the birds. I’ll be keeping my wine hand light from here on out. And you, well you watch yourself too. And remember, I’m always around to talk.

Stay safe and sane, y’all.

M.

My (Non)Drinking Problem

It’s time I address my drinking problem, or lack thereof. I once met this woman at a party. She was a friend of a friend. The first time she met me, and the few subsequent times thereafter, I had a glass of red wine in my hand, and I was cool, calm, and collected. And to hear her say it, the funniest person in the world. Am I funny? Sure! Am I the funniest person in the world? Hers, maybe. But from then on she called me her “Funny Friend Missy”. That is how she would introduce me to new people. She would rush over with an unsuspecting soul and say, “Here she is, here is my Funny Friend Missy!” Then the friend would smile or laugh, and they would look at me to say something hilarious. Le sigh. It was exhausting.

What ended up happening, is that whenever she was around I would make sure to have wine in hand. Because, like a lot of people, my cool, calm, collected, humorous nature only comes out when I’m drinking. When I have wine or gin close at hand. In fact, one day this friend invited Jackson and me out to a day of fun with her and her daughter, and well, let’s just say it was the only time we ever did that. I suspect because I was stone-cold sober all day, thus, I was my real, unaltered, weird self. And she was disappointed.

This sort of became a cycle for me for a few years. I was close with someone who drinks every single day. Every day. Her and her husband have a lovely home on a lake, and they like to enjoy, well the scenery. They are less “get out there and boat” people and more “drink all day by the lake” people. And that is okay, it’s just that I am neither, in reality, but in order to fit in I certainly had to drink more, and so I did. I drank and drank. I drank to be “My Funny Friend Missy” and Jerimiah drank to be “a man”. In reality, we sort of hated ourselves during that time. We are the type of people who can spend a fun week back home on Table Rock with family and friends and totally kill our liver, then not drink for the next six months to make up for it. In fact, unless there is something happening, a day-trip to the lake or beach with friends, a mean-ass game of Spades, or a a celebration of some kind, you will rarely find us lifting a glass. We just don’t drink like we pretend to on social media. We have a non-drinking problem.

So listen, I talk a mad game about wine and Tanqueray, and I do enjoy those two items, they are my favorites in fact, but unless you are gonna come over to my house, and we are going to play a round of Pitch, or you need a girls night, wherein we sit in my bathtub with bottles of wine and cry together, then really, just come on over and bring me some unsweet tea instead. With a lemon on the side.

Remember to drink responsibly (cause when I do, I usually forget that part).

M.