Taming of the Zoo

Day 12 I’m Out

By HonkeyCat, 5-07-09

	The fate of my sobriety hangs in the balance 15 feet above my head from a small overused balcony.

Sobriety Day 12

I’ve bonked already.

A friend from England turned 29 last Sunday and goshdarnit if I just didn’t have to have a little glass of wine on a rainy afternoon. I was nervous. I felt like a dweeb, sitting there with my diet coke. I was a party pooper, the sober girl, the boring one. The thing is, it was probably all in my head, nobody else gave two shits if I had a drink or not.

So I had a drink. I didn’t get drunk. I didn’t even get tipsy. Still, I broke a promise to myself. The Fat Bastard Cabernet called my name and I caved in to it’s calypso song.  When I got back home from the party I wrote a big, red, “I FAIL,” across my statement of sobriety.

Why did I do this to myself? Do I really have no control? I mean, I am trying to stay that sweet liquid from my lips, but it just keeps managing to make it’s way past my tongue. I say to my brain, “Well, after Tom’s party I’ll stop, I mean he’s leaving soon. Well, it’s Brewfest this weekend, it’s Maggotfest.” The fests never stop, this is Missoula, they should just call it The City of Fests, where every fest knows your name and beckons you with cheap booze and free appetizers.

Events are constantly looming on my hang-out horizon, but Ladies Poker Night and $2 well drinks on Thursdays will always be there. I have to be ready to give it all up and find the courage to say no. My biggest obstacle? The person who will disapprove the most of this new HonkeyCat? HonkeyCat herself. My friends will understand, my inner party pussy will not.

It is only when I am willing to completely let go of the booze handle will I be able to make it through my 30 days. So, I will start over again and I will keep starting over until I make it to that last 24 hours of pure, clean living. Here’s shooting for Day 13 next time.

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