2017 is going to bring more humans into this world than any other year.
This is my theory based on how many people I know expecting babies this year. From family to co-workers, friends to casual acquaintance, I venture that 50 percent of people I know are pregnant.
Outside of my own hyperbole, I am sure this is just a thing a woman in her early 30s notices, just like the splurge of marriages in my mid-20s. But, to be honest, the weekly pregnancy announcements hit a nerve. Why I am not to the child-rearing phase of my life yet? When will it be my turn? Did I take a wrong turn somewhere?
I feel left behind in 2017’s race to populate the Earth. I am so lucky to have a wonderful partner, the ability to sleep in on Saturdays, and a stable bank account, but I still get sad when I see that yet another person is expecting. Why is my journey different?
This is not a new question I’ve posed on this blog. nor new to my psyche. Baby bellies aside, my internal dictator hounds me daily about why I am not further along on the path, whether it be my career, my writing, my retirement, etc.
I’ve been to a lot of therapy, prayed, journaled, meditated, drank from bowls of , Cheryl and Elizabeth, and this is may just be something I live with, until I near the end of my life and don’t give a hoot anymore. I will always interrogate myself as to why I am not further in all the journey’s that make up my life. I am just not sure I can change that about myself.
Even so, I try to approach acceptance of the path in those moments I’m engulfed in self-pity. When I am upset that I am not further with my writing, I think, “But look where you are. Can you be happy here? Can you recognize the accomplishments that have brought you this far and basque in the length and energy this journey has?” Sometimes that’s enough I am content and jump to the next worry waiting in line for my fixation.
But, as I write this from my bed, before my day has really begun, I wonder, can I be OK with my sober journey? As I’ve mentioned before, I thought that there would be more tangible results from not drinking that I could sink my teeth in and raise above me as a prized trophy to prove to everyone that I wasn’t crazy in doing this. That hasn’t happened, and so I am left with daily urges and wondering if this was really necessary. Even this blog isn’t enough, I had hoped to grow it into a community for other people trying to be sober and the numbers slowly decline each week.
I don’t know how to do sober any different. With the other things I question about my life, there are things I can change along with things I can’t. I can’t be better at being sober (I could maybe invest a bit more into this blog, though) so my journey will be what it is. And the tricky thing is knowing it is not less special than anyone else’s because there is something great challenge to overcome or shiny reward at the end. It’s special because it’s mine and because itself is not an end point. There is so, so much more.
The hardest part of being sober: I picked the wrong administration to not drink in.
The best part of being sober: Training for the Chicago Marathon starts in a few months and so I am trying to slim down a bit before then and I am really watching what I eat. It’s super nice not to add empty calories from umpteen pale ales.