Another Day One: Day Five

Very quickly, just to check in...

My child came over from her mother's with an ear-ache so I prescribed a very floppy Sunday afternoon of reading comics and watching The Hunger Games. She snoozed for an hour or so, went to bed early, determined to go to school in the morning.

She was up early, practiced piano, ate her cereal. I got her lunch, wrote a note excusing her from swimming (I don't know much about ear infections but I know that much). We got the dog, called the lift, stepped out into the bright cold morning, to walk to school.

And she collapsed in tears. She wasn't up to it and she wasn't faking. All through breakfast and as I wrote the note for the teacher, I was saying things like And since swimming is the only thng you have on this afternoon, you may as well come home at lunch. And she wasn't thrilled about this, and there was a sort of low-level anxiety. But as soon as the tears started, and I knew she wasn't bluffing, and the decision was made to stay at home (and read more comics, and flop in her dressing gown on the sofa), there was a strange sort of elation, a relief at having succumbed to the necessity of admitting that she was just not able for school today. There were hugs and tears and I'm about to infuse warm lemonade with tea, a recipe of my own device that nevertheless seems to carry with it a nostalgic childhood-illness quality.

Newly sober people often experience what is sometimes called the Pink Cloud, a really strong sense of joy and delight that comes not only with the physical benefits of giving up drink, but with the sense of gratitude that you have become free of the stuff, and are looking at your condition truthfully, and valuing yourself as something better than a hopeless boozer. I certainly floated on this pink cloud for many months when I first gave up. I still get it a bit after each relapse, although it is less strong and lasts less long.

My hope is that this blog may help me to hold onto that sense of gratitude, so that it may become part of a virtuous spiral. I have a nice dog, and an excellent child, and today, if not exactly bursting with the euphoria of the newly sober, I am grateful. Now I am going to heat up some lemonade.