Gone are the days

Gone are the Friday nights that start with Happy Hour and end in the wee hours. Hello quiet nights at home figuring out who I am now and how I want to live my new life.

When I was drinking I lived for Fridays—5:30pm, to be exact, because that’s when I could hit the bar. I hit a lot of bars between the ages 21-39. I was partial to sports bars and dives, always on the hunt for green felt and tall pints.

But now? When I leave work on a Friday I beeline it home, put on my house pants, and chill the eff out with Me, Myself, and I. I feel bad about it sometimes—antisocial, boring, lame—but I’m trying to not give a fuck and just accept that this is who I am (right now).

I tried “going out” on a Friday once or twice in the early days of my sobriety but felt like I didn’t belong and really just wanted to go home. That scene wasn’t fun for me anymore and neither was I, apparently, because invitations to paint the town red dwindled down and then fizzled out. It’s no wonder, really. I was good at coming up with excuses for why I couldn’t go out, and bad at voicing the one reason I didn’t want to go out.

I’m over it.

Going to a bar and getting shitfaced isn’t my thing anymore. Not remembering entire nights of my life isn’t my thing anymore. Nursing a brutal hangover and beating myself up over and over (and over again) isn’t my thing anymore. Wondering if I’m an alcoholic and ignoring all the signs that point to yes isn’t my thing anymore. Thinking drinking is fun and pretending it’s all normal isn’t my thing anymore.

Instead, my “thing” is rediscovering who I am and seeing the world through a clear lens. My thing is spending time alone with my thoughts and sorting through all the shit I pushed aside for decades, ignored and unaddressed. My thing is liking who I am today and feeling at peace with myself. My thing is frozen yogurt, pajama pants, and quiet nights at home.

Gone are the days.

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