I’m leaving tomorrow for DR. OZ. The producer who came to do the “at home with Stefanie Wilder-Taylor – let’s watch her ‘not drink’ in her natural habitat” asked me if I was tired of talking about this subject.
At almost five months sober now, the newness has worn off and the fact that I can’t drink is not something I think about, worry about, obsess about on a daily basis. I’ve socialized, dealt with sleepless nights, toddler tantrums, and many tough evenings without the aid of Mama’s Wine and the anxiety which was hitting me in fits and starts has worn off. To be honest, I wasn’t confident it would. I couldn’t tell you that it would get better because even though people said it would, I couldn’t feel it for myself. All I knew was that even if I continued to miss the relief that I thought was contained in my evening Pinot Grigio, I wasn’t going to drink. That’s what I held on to – no drinking no matter what. I didn’t replace it with warm milk or a bath with stupid rose petals or anything like that. Hey, if it was that simple, no one would drink right? There is nothing that can take the place of a sweet shortcut like wine or Xanax. The trick is to take the long way.
But life got better.
I can look at pictures of my family and not experience this vague inkling that I’m living someone else’s life. Explaining that feeling isn’t easy. It’s not depression although I have felt that in the past, it’s not all anxiety although I have had more than my share. It’s more like a vague disconnect -some sort of denial -and a feeling that having a few glasses of wine was somehow going to help me sort it all out.
Here I am, not drinking and I realize now that it doesn’t really matter why I was drinking, it just matters that I stopped. It doesn’t matter how bad or not bad the problem was, only that it was in fact a problem for me. I’m so happy to be clear headed every night when I go to sleep and the newfound appreciation for my life exactly as it is right now is a bonus.
So, no, I guess I’m not tired of talking about it. I was interview by the producer sitting in my living room and I teared up like a big baby. So the Stef that you see on Dr. Oz may try to be a smart ass, snarky bitch but you will all know that I’m secretly kind of a pussy. And if they use that part of the footage, everyone else will know too. DAMMIT.