Scotch and Wahhhhh-ter

Last night I did something I rarely do, I went to the liquor store and bought Scotch, and not because I was having a party. I also packed my kids into the car at bedtime, after they had brushed their teeth, and we went to go get cupcakes. I took a nap today, I ate large quantities of Italian food, I ate cake, and I got a new tattoo. I purposely tried to fill that empty God shaped hole that seems to have opened up in me with everything I thought would work. This is a week of cold turkey quit smoking and letting go of my Sweet Escape. It is a week of trying retrain my brain to let go of my addictions.

There was a period of time, a nine year period, where I didn't drink. I wrote a lot, I prayed, I talked about what was going on in my life with spiritual folks. It was a good time. I grew a lot, but I remember near the end of that time in my life, I was standing outside a restaurant with two of my girlfriends. We were talking about sex, all three of us married. We were sharing all these deep thoughts on intimate sex with our spouses, and after awhile I said, "God, sometimes I just want to get drunk and screw." I was sick of working so damn hard. I just wanted to cut loose and be oblivious.

I've heard that the only way to truly resolve problems or pain in your life is to go through them. However, sometimes I choose not to go through the pain, I choose to go around it, over it, and below it. I choose to paint it pink and pretend it is merely a sunset. I choose to throw glitter on it and pretend it is a galaxy. I'm no dummy, I know that one day these feelings will probably jump up and bite me in my ass, but right now I'm searching for that oblivion again. I'm in the just get through it damn it phase of my dilemma. I'll sort all those feelings out later. This week it is survive, maybe next week too.

But I actually don't think this hedonist fest will make it into next week, because I'm learning the damnedest lesson this week. It's the Goldilocks' principle (that dissatisfied little tramp). My search for satisfaction through the senses is not WORKING. It is all just a little off, Too hot, too cold, too big, too small, too fluffy, TOO NOT RIGHT. I am quickly realizing that nope, cake isn't fixing it, liquor makes me ill, Italian food makes me bloated, yelling makes me feel guilty, and I can only sleep so much before the beasts call for me to feed them AGAIN (really? 3 meals a day? Why didn't anyone tell me they ate so often?). I thought I was gonna be all grown up and drink Scotch and water, like my mother, and her mother before her, but hells bells, I couldn't even finish my first one. It just wasn't what I wanted.  I can't have what I want and nothing is gonna change that. 

I have been talking to The Committee too, I promise. They have assured me that I will be okay, and if I choose to go a little nuts, they might talk a little behind my back, but they'll still be here when I decide to come back to center. When I get sick of stuffing myself with bits of this-will-not-work and this-is-not-right I will come to them to lay it on the table. They have assured me they will wipe the crumbs out of my hair, have mints for the garlicy, liquor, cake breath, and most importantly they will remind me that life (even without cigarrettes, and a sweet escape), that life is sweet, and divine, and mine for the taking.