Used to work in a large city with really great, open-minded friends whom I met up with at least three times a week as we all lived in the same neighborhood pretty much - no drinking necessary - great conversation and intellectual stimulation. Had in said city very supportive husband , regular yoga classes, "porch parties" (hot wings and a glass of wine, maybe) and other interesting things to do and enjoy. Great house....life was peachy, then....
Father died in an accident when I was mid-30's. CHOSE (I bold that because yes, it was my choice....) to move from my relatively happy life to run business in very small town for the sake of my surviving mother and younger brother (who was a bit of a late born baby), who themselves live in fabulous larger, cosmopolitan cities. Mother was entirely dependent upon father's income. Father was generous to us and employees.
I also am ambitious and have a strong work ethic. Employees needed to retain their jobs because they are not easy to find around here and they are well paid. Employee's also love their jobs. Business profitable. So yes, it was a sacrifice but I was willing to give it a shot.
Shall we say, my options for ethnic food (outside of pizza and mashed potatoes made with whipping cream - which is a delicacy where I now live) and other delights are entirely diminished unless I want to drive three hours to nearest city. Yoga class? Now I might as well be a pointy-hatted witch if I even bring up the subject. Social or intellectual stimulation? Let me say that I can quote old (pre-code) Barbara Stanwyk films verbatim - thank you Netflix!
I order my organic and other "weird" - that's a local quote - foods online. Miss my father, but life goes on and I believe strongly that he is in a "better place" though I am not religious about the "Heaven/Hell/Purgatory" question. Miss my intellectual and social stimulation. Loved "comraderie". Brutal winters don't help. Talk about Seasonal Affective Syndrome! Jeez.
Got really freaked out after father died in accident and became family support center. Started drinking. One drink every night for two months after father died, then two to three drinks (stiff) for a year, then three to five drinks very stiff (I'm talking a night), then I found myself drinking all night every night until bedtime and here I am.
I'm really, really bored with drinking and disgusted with myself.
Questions I am asked by my closest friends who know my problem:
1) Why don't you work out to yoga on your DVD player? Answer: Sometime I do (or did, really) but it's just not the same....social contact is very important to me and let's be frank....you need a real live instructor for yoga.
2) Why don't you leave? Answer: I do, when I can....I take about six "leaves of absence" a year (long weekends or a week) to get away and see friends. My drinking slows up when I'm gone. Then I get back all "high" from life and seeing my friends and travels and BOOM, drinking again.
3) Why don't you move your home office from a small town to the city that is three hours away? Answer: Because where we do business requires I be at certain facilities around here on short notice in the locale where I am located.
4) Are you trying to make friends and find other things to do? Answer: Absolutely! But it ain't easy being green. I am opinionated, open-minded, socially aware, environmentally conscious and all I get when I try to talk with people at the local fair is "Huh?" No kidding. I have adapted to my environment but no way am I giving up who I am. I'm also not giving up my clothes (great suits, jeans, etc....but I have toned my style down a bit; well, more than a bit. Quite a lot, actually.)
5) What does your husband feel about this drinking problem and your boredom? Answer: My husband is far less Type A than myself and he is an artist of sorts so can do his work anywhere. He would be happy in a cave so long as he were fed and watered and had a good book. He is very "chill" about the situation. He is a great man. He has - however - started to give me "the look" when I hit the liquor cabinet at 5:30 pm, though he says nothing about my three to six stiff cocktails a night. He did take me aside and showed me that a jigger of hard liquor is 1.5 ounces, and not the 3 I pour into a rocks glass. He understands that I am under a lot of pressure and what-not but is not one to be chatty/conversational about it like my great girlfriends. And talking to the dog is not really an option. She would make a great enabler if she could. I talk to my friends on the phone but it's not the same.
I know...whine, whine, whine. But I'm laying it on the line. Boredom and - of course - some serious adjustment problems/depression (I was "daddy's girl") at first. Now it's a habit. No more depression, thankfully. And I do have good days certainly. But that's all pretty much work-related now and not "all encompassing" anymore.
And that's my drinking story.
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