As we all know, New Year’s Eve is the night of all night’s, the eve of all eve’ s, the biggest party night of the year. For me, it was a fail-safe excuse to drink.
The first New Year’s Eve in my adult life without alcohol was an emotional rollercoaster for me, but at the same time it was the beginning of a new reality and new ways to celebrate. Until then I had never known any other way to celebrate than with alcohol.
I had been sober for only a month, was fresh meat in the AA rooms, and white knuckling my way through the holidays. I was overwhelmed with cravings daily, desperately seeking something to take me out of my misery.
By New Year’s Eve I was pissed off! I was so frazzled and overwhelmed with this new way of life that I could barely see straight. I wanted a Drink and I wanted it badly. Drop the biggest party night on top of all that and I can’t drink? Hell almost broke loose.
It really amazes me that I made it through that New Year’s Eve without drinking. But I did. I have never been that pissed off in my life. I was so mad at everyone else because they were all drinking without me. I decided that if I couldn’t drink I was going to find something else to do. What did I come up with? Ice cream sundaes. I bought ice cream, hot fudge, Carmel sauce, whip cream, candy toppings and anything else I could think of to make the biggest, best sundaes ever. I was fuming as I let the whip cream fly out of that can. I ate that ice cream with a vengeance! My kids loved it! They ate those ice cream sundaes and they were in heaven.
As we ate that ice cream that New Year’s Eve, I saw the joy on my boys’ faces and the fun they were having. I realized that I had done something out of spite and anger that had instead created joy for my kids. They were having a great time. And so was I.
That was the beginning of a New Year’s Eve tradition for my boys and I. It was also my first lesson in the art of celebration. I stayed sober another twenty days before I caved to the pressure of the constant cravings with little support. But I learned something through it all. Good times don’t come packaged in a bottle. Good times come from the hearts of those you love.
anniethinksabout 
Reblogged this on Gabbie cbg.
And I bet your little kids were so happy to see you at home for once, doing something with them.
Well, I was home most of the time. But I was hardly ever “present”. Pretty much the same thing!