I want to be the one who can smoke a joint.
I know I can’t. Well I could, but that would be terrible. I’ll be 10 years sober in 19 days and I don’t ever think about getting high.
Except now.
In the last two or three weeks the fantasy of smoking weed has crept in a couple of times... just a joint, just a glass of wine, just after my daughter goes to bed, but who am I kidding?
The truth is I’m grateful to be sober now. Right now, more than ever, my sobriety is crucial. It’s hard being stuck or “safe” in my tiny two-bedroom apartment with my very active 2-year-old and her Dad. I put her in front of a screen and very quickly feel guilty, like I’m trying to change who she is, calm her down, sedate her, because I need a fucking break. I need five minutes to scroll Facebook and Instagram as an escape from this new normal. I don’t even want to talk to my friends, because when I get five minutes alone that’s what I need, to be alone, to not respond or answer to anyone or anything.
This makes me feel selfish. Like I’m doing something wrong. Am I? It’s 8 pm and I’m still in my pajamas and shirt from yesterday. I haven’t brushed my hair. I’m pregnant as fuck and tired. It just took me an hour to get my daughter to sleep 'cause she’s taken to climbing out of her crib and letting herself out of her room like she’s 7! I managed to organize a few drawers and wash some new baby clothes in the midst of wiping up tears and wiping down tables and having imaginary tea parties.
I’m fine. We’re fine. EVERYTHING’S FINE!
