Last week I naively wrote that I didn’t expect any miracles from going off of sugar for thirty days. And regarding my health, that’s still true.
One week in, I don’t feel thinner or more energized or anything. I think I technically “lost” a pound or so, but that could be from stress as much as the absence of popcorn or brownies or wine. I haven’t felt an actual hangover, but I still wake with life hangovers (because of my health issues, I wake up with headaches pretty much every day) so I dunno.
Socially, it didn’t challenge me much either, as I’ve documented here daily.
Personally: Well, this was a rough week for the world. And I couldn’t resort to comfort foods or booze to self-sooth. Because of what I’ve learned from past periods of abstinence, I restrained from jumping online to get lost in social media or buy Hillary t-shirts or bath salts to make myself feel better, too.
Which makes me wonder: Is this whole year of abstinence really about looking at the darkest parts of the world — and myself — head on, alone? About accepting that right now nothing will really make me feel better and I just need to feel the pain, deal, and move forward?
No Sugar Week One
Day one: Dinner with [lady writer friend] at Zoma. We’ve only come here for lunch on Saturdays so was not thinking of cocktails. She had a long week. Cocktail time for her. I’ll have to satisfy myself with doro wett and berbere.
Day Two: Up early on a Saturday for last-minute LB interview research on James Rebanks. Confirmed there is NO SUGAR in my Califia Farms unsweetened almond milk. It’s by far my favorite because I HATE SWEETENED ALTERNATIVE PRODUCTS. I pour it into my coffee. Using the Super Grover! mug Lil Sis gave me for Christmas years ago because it’s everything and today is gonna be another long one and I need to KNOCK IT DOWN!
Later: Gentleman friend over for dinner. He sipped tequila — I was fine with water. Because he’s watching his manly figure and I was frying part of our meal I didn’t do dessert anyway. Bedtime fun was not a problem completely sober. Yummy. Dating is gonna be fine.
Day Three: First sugar craving. Think it’s because I’m way overtired and in pain and dehydrated. Compensating with lots of lemon in my water.
Day five: It sucked not drinking while watching the election. I’ve never been more tempted to quit a challenge before. Read this. Oh, and my Nana fell and is in the hospital.
Day six: The world hurts. Read this. I made it through the rest of the day a sobbing mess but fine — still able to get a bit of work done. Went out with friends and family at night and NOT drinking was good. Those closest to me are used to me not drinking when my health dips, and I’ve even gotten texts and emails of support for this period, as they assume it’s to help me feel better, so thank dog for good friends.
Anxiety meds and pain medication helped, too.
Was happy to have not drank, actually. Helped me absorb the love. We need love. Love trumps. Everything.
Day seven: The bad man is president-elect and I haven’t had a day off in eleven days now (?) and I just got broken up with by the writer for being “perfect on paper” but for “lack of sparks”. He was kind. And that feeling is fair. I’ve been in his position. And I don’t blame him.
But I’m sad. Hurt. And feeling rejected. I didn’t see it coming. Weirdly. And not weirdly, as… anyway. It’s been a very, very, very, bad week. I really need a fucking drink. I’d give up brownies forever for a whisky right now. I don’t remember the last time I’ve cried this much. I hate admitting this where people can see it, but this is my fucking journal and my project and I’m in pain and so there.
But Nana is okay — hopefully going to a rehabilitation center Saturday. And Poppa turns ninety tomorrow, on Veteran’s Day. So that’s something to be thankful for. I’m going to work on his My First Supper piece tomorrow after I file a piece.
Conclusion for week one: It’s good to know I technically don’t have a “drinking problem” since the world basically went to shit this week and I remained sober through it all. But I didn’t even ponder that not drinking would be a challenge. And it was. It was really, really hard. And not socially or medically. Just regarding my sense of self.
Even before Tuesday — before Trump and before Nana fell and before writer guy ended things — things hurt. Facing everything sober and raw and alone and feeling rejected and discarded by both a large portion of the country and on a personal level … well… I hope I learn something that makes a positive difference in my life. Honestly. I can’t glass-half-full life right now.
I’m gonna just get back to work. And I guess I’ll have to see in another week…