I keep telling myself that this year I will make better choices for myself. In regards to my health, physical and mental, as well as emotional. I will eat better and exercise more. I will make smarter decisions when it comes to my love life. I will be open and honest, and try not to be so afraid – or at least, to not let my fears constantly rule me. And damnit, I will write. Because as shitty as I think I am at it, it feels right.
So, in that vein of health-mindedness, I’m gonna do something stupid. I’m gonna promise, here and now and publicly, to cut down on my drinking. Quitting outright just seems too drastic. =P
Over this last year – probably the hardest since I lost my dad – I have relied on this particular crutch far too much and too often. It’s easy to drown myself in a 6 pack of Ice tallboys. I don’t know why really, it’s not like it makes me feel better in the long run. But I have been a drinker since I was 15. Drinking is an old friend, one of the only ones that’s stuck by me all these years. And it’s to that friend that I ran to for comfort, more and more as the year progressed.
But I realize it’s not getting me anywhere. I’d love to be able to indulge on occasion, dig out my PS2 and do some drunk-driving on Midnight Club 3 (I love that game). But to the extent that I’ve been going at it? Yeah, that’s gotta stop.
It’s not healthy for me, physically. I know this. It’s not healthy for me mentally – bad hangover days really mess with my head and cause anxiety. And it sure as hell hasn’t helped my love life. I would get into some of the biggest fights with my ex when I was drunk. Granted, he was a selfish asshole, but still.
Worse than anything though, to me, is how it affects my writing. I am not one of those brilliant drunken writers. I wish I was! I’d personally tear out my liver and roll it in broken glass if that would let me write the next Great American Novel. But fact is, as trite and sorry as my writing can be while sober, it is just pure crap when I’ve been tying on one.
Man, I am so good at tying one on. I am a champion drinker on a good night. I bet I could drink any of ya’ll under the table! Let’s find out someday. =)
But for now, for the sake of liver, brain, heart and whatever combination of organs make my fingers keep tapping these keys – I promise to cut back. One sixer a week? Can we all agree on that? You have no idea how hard that’s gonna be. Well, OK, someone out there will know.
And hey, if I can manage to survive on one sixer a week, perhaps I can do better. Part of the process. We shall see.
Here’s to making better choices! *raises a glass of water* =)