sunrise

Hi, friends.

It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? I started this blog at the beginning of 2015 because I knew that I needed to retire A Story, but I wanted a place to put my sporadic emotional outpours. And sporadic it was.

Although I have been storytelling and writing elsewhere, I’ve missed being in this space, writing what feels right and then sending it off to let it be consumed. So, in the last few months, I’ve been tossing around ideas in which I can bring this blog back to life.

I thought about creating a pretzel blog where I eat a crap ton of pretzels and review them. I express this idea every time that I order a soft pretzel at a bar or a ball park. Wouldn’t it be great to be a connoisseur of pretzels? I could eat my way through the world consuming pretzels in each place I go while trying out every homemade pretzel recipe on Pinterest. I could even make cute snacks out of store-bought pretzels. What a cool blog that would be.

The Pretzel Princess.  The Pretzel Connoisseur. Life of Pretzels.

As awesome as it would be to be a bloggess of pretzels (and it would really be awesome), I also entertained another blog theme possibility – documenting my year of sobriety.

A couple of months ago, after a particular drunken night with some friends down in Pilsen, I woke up to the familiar self-degrading thoughts that often come with a pounding hangover.

I can’t believe you spent so much last night. 

I can’t believe you drank so much. 

I can’t believe you acted like such a drunken fool. 

These thoughts flattened me, emptied me of any joy I had had from the night before. Drinking had become another opportunity for me to berate myself, and I wanted to quit. I felt miserable and washed up, all because I went to a friend’s birthday party and “had a good time.”

The next week I didn’t drink, I couldn’t drink. The thought of spending $8 on a beer that swished in my stomach was repulsive, and so I ordered water while everyone else sipped on beers and ciders.

Sobriety, in the week that it lasted, fit like an awkwardly tailored dress – I could make it work if I shimmied and pulled in the right directions. Maybe I needed to go on a break. I had quit alcohol before, but a longer stint tempted me. Till the end of 2016? 100 Days? Could I possibly go without alcohol for a year? I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to try.

My start date was October 10th, the day of my 32nd birthday, and I vowed to spend the entire year sober, with the exception of next May when I am traveling to Europe for a friend’s wedding (it would be practically blaspheme to not drink wine in Italy.) I drank three beers last Sunday (softening the blow of that horrendous debate) and woke up the next day to begin one year of sobriety.

I know this is a more somber, less tastier blog topic that pretzels, but since the idea of writing about my year break from alcohol popped into my head it wouldn’t leave. In the last week I’ve been constantly bombarded with thoughts about sobriety and giving up booze that I wanted to explore, to discover why I am really giving up alcohol and what does its absence mean for other aspects of my life.

So, I came back to this space and gave it a new life with a new name. I named this blog Sunday Morning because it’s my favorite time of the week, but also because Sunday mornings can be drastically different depending on what you do Sunday night. I’ve had hungover Sundays where I stay in bed all day and others when I am up early to write or catch the a.m. yoga class, both influencing my self-esteem in opposite ways.

I also call this blog Sunday Morning because I plan to update it once a week, theoretically on Sunday mornings but possibly on a Saturday or Monday. The reason being is that I am about to begin revising my book and I can’t do that project and this one justice if I commit to a more aggressive posting schedule. There is a chance I will pop in during the week to share a quote or a random thought, but full length posts will come once a week.

Today I start my second week of sobriety, with a bit less confidence than the first week but more hope. In the coming weeks I plan to share some thoughts about the social aspects of sobriety, some of the real motivators that led to the year long break, and why I drink in the first place.

To be perfectly honest, I am scared to share these stories and thoughts with you all. I know I’ve been a generous sharer before, but in my first full week of this sobriety project I’ve felt undone and raw without the shield of alcohol. Every single day in the last seven days I’ve wanted a drink. I’ve wanted to throw up my hands, say I’ve tried, and let the coolness of a pale ale wash me into another state. Something is hidden in this experiment and I will have to face whatever demons are unveiled, and do so without alcohol.

So, once a week, join me here. It may not always be great or revelatory, but it will be honest. For now, I am just happy to be back on this blog with a new purpose, to be here with you all.

Let’s begin. And, hey, there may even be a post or two about pretzels.

A quick note on addiction and alcoholism: I am not writing this blog as someone who is seeking treatment or therapy for addiction. I am sharing my stories and experiences as a casual, but sometimes excessive, drinker. I am not giving up alcohol because it’s a must for the safety and well-being of me and those around me. Addiction is a serious matter and I will not tread on it lightly. I plan to be respectful of those that do battle this awful disease, but also share my story as it unfolds. For the most part, I will avoid using the word alcoholic and will never claim to understand what sobriety means to someone who is or was an alcoholic. If any slights are made, it will be out of my own ignorance. 

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