Five Weeks To Go

Day 330. Five weeks to go. Holy smokes.Just five more weeks until I emerge from my protective bubble of my one year alcohol-free. Five weeks until alcohol is technically an option again. Five weeks until “I’m taking a year off drinking” turns into…I’m still not sure. And that is ok.I am beginning, very gingerly, to take stock of this year and reflect on everything I have experienced with a completely clear head and heart - and without the crutch/perceived lubricant/numbing agent of alcohol. My preliminary conclusion is that a lot happens in a year. And I am down-into-my-bones grateful to have lived it all.Because that’s what I have accomplished. I have lived this year. I may have buried my face in a bag of small batch artisanal tortilla chips more than a few times, but I have no lost nights. No fuzzy memories. No embarrassing drunken social media posts or text messages. I have been present. I have shown up. I have acheived a perfect attendance record for 330 days and counting.I have felt exquisite pain and exquisite joy. I have felt legit stress and #firstworldproblem stress. I have been a supermom and I have had my share of #momfails. I own it all.I still have work to do. And when this year is up, fittingly on Independence Day (I swear I didn’t plan that!), I will still have work to do. Life work. Self work. I now realize what a privilege it is to be able to do this work. I don’t plan on running away from it again.Courage, compassion, and connection: these are what Brené Brown calls “The Gifts of Imperfection.” I am going to spend the next five weeks embracing my imperfection. And then after that I’m going to spend the rest of my life embracing my imperfection.Where will alcohol fit into this?Here’s the thing. I can’t think of a single instance where consuming alcohol would have improved upon any moment of these past 47 weeks. Yes, I have had fleeting pangs of longing, but they all just dissolved into nothing. Not a single pang took root and grew into regret. Not a one.So right now, as of day 330, I am peering out from the safety of my OYAF bubble, proud of all that I have achieved but relieved to have five more weeks to boss up. Before I know it, this year will be done. The bubble will pop, and out I will step into a world where alcohol is back on the table.I’m scared. Part of me is tempted to declare another year off. But I’m also curious. I’m curious to see how much strength I’ve gained. I’m curious to see if I have the guts to be a non-drinker in a big-drinking world. I have never been one to swim against the tide. But now I will choose to do just that.Because I’m not going to go back to where I was. I love my AF self and my AF life too much. I’m all in.