I’ve had a couple of days when I’ve thought about drinking. I have tried to follow my thought processes why. It does not feel like it is the strange days corona fever that has tempted me. I’ve felt somewhat bored and have longed to welcome the first spring evenings with a couple of beers. But then I ask myself if it’s really boredom that is the problem. It’s more like I mistake ease of mind for boredom. Like my easy AF life feels a little bit too wholesome and that I’m on the verge to start knitting, baking banana cake or broidering cushions. What I miss the most is not to get drunk but to be irresponsible and to not give a cats ass about tomorrow. It’s like I’m longing back to my youth when I didn’t need to take any responsibility.
I’ve got a rebel in me. And when I was drinking that rebel got fed all the time. Now that I’m not drinking the rebel will sometimes call for my attention, like it wants me to do something stupid to show that I still got that rebel part in me.
I will have to feed my rebel with something else than alcohol, maybe buns and ice cream. And hey, since I’m over forty and have a low blood pressure all I need to do to feel a buzz is to rise quickly from a chair when I least expect it. That will do for rebel food.
Onwards and upwards, comrades!
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