I’ve been thinking a bit more about being on the wagon and how my friends are reacting. This weekend was another interesting one. I spent a fair bit of it out watching other people get drunk. I had two great evenings, but things sure aren’t as funny when you’re sober.
I am fine with other people being silly. In fact, I encourage it. The thing that I don’t like is the comparisons they make to my current self and the absolutely ridiculous self that I used to be. I’m doing my best. I’m there. I’m just trying to look after myself.
A friend made some valid points yesterday when we were talking about it. She suggested that perhaps my friends are mourning the me that they used to have. This is the beginning of the end of the me that they know. As much as I don’t like to think about it, things will never be the same again. No matter how hard I work at keeping my friendships alive, those friends will never, ever be my first priority again. And neither will my own selfish enjoyment. That life is over.
I have friends that have babies. Some of them have retreated into their homes and never come out. Others happily put their baby asleep in the spare room at bbqs and enjoy a glass of wine. Either way, you can’t stay up all night because that baby will be up with the sunrise and you need to be up with it, not on your way down.
I hadn’t really thought about that side of things. I was thinking more short term. The 9 months of pregnancy. I had gotten my head around that. But this is forever.
I remember when I used to be a smoker and a friend would decide to quit. I would feel betrayed. We used to smoke together! Why have they decided that they don’t want to do that anymore? I’m not ready to quit and I’m not ready for my life to change. It was out of my control and I didn’t like it.
I guess that’s how my friends are feeling, only a million times bigger.