I think about writing all the time, but I can’t seem to get into the routine of it. I have developed other routines that I’m not willing to give up to bus blogging. I’ve been listening to my book club books on Audible and crocheting granny squares. I have aspirations to make a blanket. Outside of my work commute I don’t have the mental space or time to write either. I’m so extra busy with work and figuring out life here that I don’t have space like I did in Egypt, and I guess I don’t feel as needy to have this blog to keeping me going every day. It doesn’t feel as scary to not drink, nor do I have the daily mental battles over it. I won’t lie and say that the little voice in my head doesn’t speak up about the “no harm for one drink” but it is no where near as loud as it once was.
I will confess that I did have two drinks on Thanksgiving. It feels like a confession because this is a place to contemplate sobriety, but I don’t feel like I’m back to square one because of it. I didn’t fall off the wagon and go on a binge. I had two drinks at a Thanksgiving buffet in an Irish Bar in China. In the whole scope of things, its okay. Here I am a few days later, gone through another week-end sans booze.
Since I stopped drinking again (besides those two drinks) I’ve already lost 2 pounds. I feel better about myself and my week-ends. I actually picked up my violin and played tonight. I haven’t played in about 4 months. I’m slowly finding my way back to my healthy habits and hobbies.