I decided to give carrots a whirl for the first time last week.
Initially, I didn’t like the earthy taste, yet after having a handful, they grew on me.
The first time I got drunk I was around 11 or 12. There was a card game at my mom’s friend’s house and I snuck a bottle of Boone’s Farm and wound up passing out in one of the bedrooms.
A few months short of 13 years later, and the taste of alcohol has yet to grow on me.
I never got accustomed to the smell nor the lingering after effects, but what I thought it did for me outweighted these pitfalls…that is until recently.
Emotionally I’ve always struggled.
I never was taught how to cope with things, let alone how to work through my feelings.
Alcohol provided a means.
So I would drink to: deflect; get over things; for a peace of mind, among other things.
Then one day I realized that my problems won’t just go away.
I was in fact only ignoring them with the belief that alcohol was erasing them.
Dealing with my problems led to me discovering that alcohol was in fact disgusting, to me.
So I stopped drinking.
Not the “I got way too drunk and now proclaiming that I’m done” stopped, but in actuality decided that I didn’t NEED to drink anymore.
I would still have a drink or two in social settings, but it was not drinking to get drunk anymore.
But even one or two drinks didn’t settle too well with my body, so I stopped altogether.
The worst part about not wanting to drink?
Having to defend my decision not to.
I don’t like the way it tastes.
I don’t like how it makes me feel physically.
I don’t need an escape from my life.
I don’t need a substance to enjoy myself.
If EYE don’t question your dependence, don’t question my decision. 🙃