Sunday, November 27, 2011

Happy Sunday, Mom!

I feel like a tiny bird with a big song!

Jerry Van Amerongen, Ballard Street, 08-18-05

Day 75
I had a friend from the message boards ask me the other day whether I ever missed drinking. I had to think. I told her I spent more time worrying about or anticipating missing it than I did actually missing it. I said, “Looking back I thought I had fun when I was drinking but I didn’t have any joy. Now I have both.”
I’ve mentioned in earlier posts that I do this exercise every morning of writing my “morning pages.” It consist of scrawling three pages of supposedly random thoughts, it is supposed to spark my creativity. Lately my morning pages have taken the form of letters to my mother. Here’s what I wrote Mom this morning.

Happy Sunday Mom,

I’m sorry I haven’t written in a couple of days but don’t worry, I’m okay. I’m better than okay. It is a wonderful thing to have joy come back into my life. I hadn’t even noticed it was gone. How could I not have missed it, Mom? How did I live so long without it? It colors everything. It’s the reason I get up in the morning. I’m finding that girl I was again, probably that girl I was trying to find for so long in a bottle. I hope I don’t lose her again.

You remember her. She’s the girl that gives her husband hugs about fifty times a day because she just can’t help herself. She’s the girl that scoops Stanley, the blind killer bichon, up in her arms and dances around with him in the whirling snow. She’s the girl that makes a playlist of Christmas songs by Bing, Dean (your favorite), Nat, and Doris and sings along with them while she does the dishes. She’s the girl that calls her step daughter-in-law just to yak about a book they both read and ends up yakking with her stepson (that’s awkward since we’re only 7 years apart in age) instead and cries a little when he tells her he loves her as he hands the phone to his wife. She’s the girl who stands out in the dark in the middle of a frigid mountain night and gazes mesmerized by the stars.

She’s the girl who couldn’t wait to get up and tell you all of this, Mom. I sure missed her and I know you did, too. I know you are so happy and relieved to have your daughter back. I’m sorry I worried you for so long.

I’d better go, Mom. I can’t wait to see what this day has in store for me. Manana!
I Love You,
Kary May

Today I’m just out there doing my best to stop worrying my mother and enjoying my winter wonderland for just a few more days. Sing it, Dean!


  1. Oh wow. This is so sweet....and I sit here feeling quite without joy, a little envious of you.....wondering if this could be me too. I am "in process".....and havent given up my wine completely yet. I feel so sad. Joyless. miserable. Fat. Frustrated. Everything opposite of what you described. I keep wondering WHY it is I drink...or desire it so. Did you go to counseling?? Geez, I'm 50 years old....and don't know who I am?!?! Thanks for sharing your journey...I'm so happy for you and hope this continues to be an upward journey!

  2. I'll be 50 in a few months and 5 months ago I was exactly where you are. If you start reading my blog from the beginning, you'll find yourself in there. It took me finally and completely "giving it up." I didn't go to traditional counseling, instead I kind of designed my own recovery by reading a lot, blogging a lot, and receiving a lot of wise counsel from the message boards and blogs I follow. And NOT DRINKING. If you try it, you'll be surpised how quickly the joy comes back. And yeah, I'm still tackling the "f" problem especially with the sugar cravings and renewed appetite.

  3. Thanks for this:

    "I spent more time worrying about or anticipating missing it than I did actually missing it."

    Holy light bulb moment! This is a keeper.