Easter Blues

Day 2 of the wondrous Easter long weekend and I'm bedridden. Got a nasty cold that is forcing me to do zilch. I slept all day yesterday, with my Blue Russian nestled into my legs, keeping me warm and my fever at bay.

I had grand plans for this weekend. This was gonna be the weekend where I finally unpacked my boxes and therefore completed my journey of moving into my parent's house - a move that started six months ago and is embarrassingly still ongoing.

After unpacking, removing excess clutter and generally tidying the house so it no longer looks like an episode of Hoarders, I was going to clean it from top to toe, removing every trace of dust and mildew.

Instead, I'm in bed catching up on downloaded movies and my favourite TV show at the moment - American Horror Story Asylum. It's phenomenally good TV!

Oh well, sometimes when your body demands rest, your will must comply. Maybe I'll make a miraculous recovery by tomorrow or Monday and be able to begin my journey towards cleanliness.

On a more positive note, I'm still a non-drinker with almost no desire to drink. I say almost because occasionally I see someone drinking a nice cold beer or glass of white wine and I think, that's looks delicious. But then my next thought is, yeah it looks delicious but I don't want to feel that woozy drunk feeling. Even just a little bit...this is so weird. It's like I've been possessed by a teetotaller!

I guess its a good thing. Ok, I know its a good thing, its just that anyone who knows me well, knows that I'm very partial to a drink. I'm like a sure thing when it comes to partying. If someone wants a good night, they know they can always rope Lizz into downing a few bevies with them and dancing the night away.

But you know what? I can dance whenever I want to and what I want most out of this life, right now, is to write.

Still Sober

Hello my name is Lizz and I'm a part-time alcoholic. A stormy weather drinker. Any port in a storm.

It's been over a month and I'm still not drinking. It's still novel to me. It's quite amazing how drinking used to limit me, limit my choices. Even little every day things. For example, I used to drink every Friday night. Not much but normally 2 or 3 drinks. One drink is enough for me to become instantly lethargic, my desire to do anything fades like a tropical mist. So 2 or 3 and I'm really inert.

So now on Friday nights, after my standard homemade pizza with my Dad, I think to myself, 'Oh, I might do a load of washing now' or 'I might read my new book I'm really into' or any number of things. This doesn't really sound like much and a lot of you may be thinking, what's so great about washing your clothes on a Friday night, but its more about a change in thinking, an opening up to life, of not accepting self-imposed limits.

I'm in Fiji at the moment on Day 1 of a writer's course. It's been amazing so far already. I love hearing people's stories. Everyone has this desire to tell stories whether they are based on fact or not. It's just fascinating. They are mostly middle-age women, apart from one older man. But they are a ripe and rowdy lot, and as you can imagine with a bunch of writers, our conversations go off on creative tangents with no holes barred.

So far I've navigated the cocktails and beer at the bar. And the complimentary wine with dinner. I've resisted but the funny thing is I have no desire to drink. The only desire to drink would be due to a desire to cure my social anxiety but now that we have had a morning writing session together, I now feel a lot more comfortable with everyone.

This week is gonna be amazing. Good things are coming, I can feel it. And it all started with choosing life.