Sunday Funday

Ohhhh how things have changed.  Sunday Funday’s are a bit different for me now.  While they weren’t known as Sunday Funday’s back when and where I was still drinking, I definitely participated in them often.  Usually with beer (and the occasional beer helment) during football season or with Sunday brunches where food came second to bloody mary’s and mimosa’s.  Sunday’s were the perfect excuse to drink in the morning, which I did every other day anyway, but not out in the open since it was, for some strange reason, frowned upon.

This morning I woke up at 8:45am, had a great conversation with my dad, and then drove down to my sponsors house where we made pancakes, had a Big Book study, and went for a long walk.  It’s times like these that I can’t help but be insanely grateful for my sobriety.

Don’t get me wrong, there are still times that I wish I could have a traditional Sunday Funday because, well, they were, on occasion, fun.  From time to time, nostalgia will creep in and I will remember how nice it was to sit at a table with friends and recall the events of the prior night over a drink or two.  And then I am reminded of the fact that, with me, there was never a drink or two.  I was lucky if there were only five or six.  The morning always started off fun, but then the drinking (as a group) would end and my buzz would wear off and depression would settle in my gut which would lead me on a desperate search for another drink.

I don’t have to deal with that today.  I get to go on with the rest of my Sunday without living in fear that the depression will return.  And for that, I am grateful.

~ by dawgedawg on January 4, 2009.