not your winehouse rehab

I've only ever met a glass or two of wine that I didn't like. 

Always a glass or two after my ever stressful work days in Austin. Then Lulu died. Numb was the point of it all. Numb to the big gaping hole in my heart with my girl. I couldn't bear the reality of life without her needle nose watching me constantly. Without her promptly putting herself to bed on the princess bed at 8:30 PM and then Lulu would crane her long greyhound neck around the bedroom door about an hour later staring at me with a demanding facial expression that more than communicated, "listen lady when are you coming to bed already?" I simply couldn't face a world, a life without my Lulu because she was my everything. Wine helped.

Shortly after my Lulu's death, it was clear that my temporary assignment in Austin would be coming to a close. Let's just ladle on more terrible things, shall we? My friends, my life, my whole magical world was packaged up in a neat little box called Austin. I tried desperately to find a job that would enable me to stay in a place I call home. Nothing panned out. 

At the time, I took it as a sign that I needed to learn how to live and be happy in Colorado. But moving back to Colorado was the very last thing I ever wanted to do and so I loaded up the car with cases of a special shiraz that I only found in Austin on my way northwest. My mother called those cases of shiraz my prozac to enable to me adjust from my full, vibrant Austin life to the hermit life of Denver. Let's simply pile on the numbing agent. 

I have been back in Denver now for over four years. I've tried making friends, reconnecting with old friends and nothing has really panned out in the long term. I try but nothing sticks like Austin. My heart was broken by the Southern Gentleman. The layoff sent me into a tailspin. Needless to say for the good moments along the way, there was a lot upheaval. Enough so that numbing out with wine was my way to cope. A wine buzz took the edge off everything, the world didn't seem so harsh.

Then in December I get myself on a plane to India. I can count the number of drinks I had during that time on one hand. All my desire, all my need for the numbing agent seeped out of my body during those three weeks. I would have a beer but one was more than enough. The natural off switch had been restored and was working again. The feelings were no longer overwhelming. 

As I described my adventures with the Tour Director to my closest friends, I found myself retelling the stories with the caveat that I was completely sober the entire time as I was openly sharing my feelings with Tour Director. Those who know me best, know that me being vulnerable is near impossible and without the aid of vino, it is absolutely impossible. 

Since my return, I've not reverted to my old ways. The wine holds no mystery. It no longer speaks to me. The taste, the pleasure is gone. 

Last night was a big milestone as between my crappy work day and then Tour Director's SMS, I would have normally had a few glasses of wine as I cried away. This morning I realized the inkling of wine to cope, to numb did not even enter my mind. I dealt with my sadness, my frustration, my disappointment just as the raw feelings they are. I moved through them and I was okay this morning. I survived on my own. And that feels amazing!