Maybe today I should have stuck with writing about enjoying the beach again. Or maybe I misrepresented myself but when I said we acknowledged the drinking problem I guess I blew it out of proportion. The problem isn't that I need alcohol, the problem is that I will choose to use it, when available, as the pain-duller of choice. I hate pills but I am trying, even when I say I'm not.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to make excuses. I'm not someone you have to hide your alcohol from or someone who wakes up with a craving, I'm a very subtle imbiber kind of gal, a few times a year, who is coming to terms with a hell of a lot of stress and I'm dealing with it in the worst way and so now I have to deal with one more thing now. That's all. I don't make waves. I'm not out of control and I'm seriously so straight up when it comes to these things you would find it all incredibly uncharacteristic of me to drink too much. You can tell because when I do, I blog about it and the few times I have crossed my own lines all ended badly and I wrote about it because it was so uncharacteristic. Let that be a cautionary tale for those of you exploring your own issues. I'm not a drinker, but I let something go too far. And I didn't ruin our trip, it was ruined before we left. The whole drinking issue was a lot more low-key than I would have you believe. But suffice it to say we both noticed what I was doing and I did finally surrender to the common sense we have lovingly cultivated thus far. I'm trying, guys. It's been a rough year but I can do this too. No one ever would have expected all this from Bridget, trust me.
I'm going to shut up now. Lord.
In a happier twist, I have a picture here of Ruthie on the beach four days ago. A mini-me. One of my favorite pictures I've ever taken.
