I had my first “I drank a beer” dream last night. I was sitting at a long table with lots of other people eating food. I got up to leave, looked down, and there was a full pint sitting at my place at the table. Without a thought I reached for it and drank it right down. Then I had that “oh, wait. oh…no!” feeling and realized “I don’t drink anymore! What did I just do!” moment. Which was quickly followed by that “Weelllll, you’ve had that one, might as well have more!” moment.
And then I woke up. Phew!
Thirteen days in and I’m finally dreaming again. I’m slowly starting to sleep through the night. I’m like a new baby, waking up every three or four hours and being awake from 1 AM to 4 AM tossing and turning, just thinking and thinking and thinking every which thought, every which-a-way. Yelling at myself in my head “Shut up! Go to sleep! Huh, I wonder what I should do on Thursday, and I wonder if they need for post it notes for Jack’s class. I should have checked on that earlier. Now his teacher probably thinks I’m a slacker mom. I am a slacker mom. Why do I suck as a mom?…” This can go on for hours.
But last night I woke up, fell back to sleep. Woke up again, fell back to sleep again. I like that. All that midnight worrying is exhausting!
I have been more anxious about drinking this week. I’m feeling stronger, but more fragile. I started crying listening to a Nick Drake song in the car. Washing the kids hair. While running. It’s like I’m feeling more, turning up emotions like turning up dirt. I have these moments where I feel like “oh! I feel like me.” And then I check in, and sure enough. Just me. Not hungover me. Not drunk me. Just…me.