I don’t offer a lot of Sunday morning posts, mainly because I drink through a golf round and then continue drinking at whatever the next opportunity is. This past weekend, I did not drink.
This week, being sober while doing activities that I normally do drinking was different. Two Fridays ago, I bowled a 280 with 11 perfect strikes (drinking). At league on Wednesday, I felt like it was my first time on the lanes (sober). I’d go up there, and even though I know how to bowl, I couldn’t understand how I was releasing the ball like that. I couldn’t control the location or speed at all. I rolled a 171, 215, 170, throwing a ball through the face coming off a double in the 10th of the third game. Totally uncharacteristic. Like, wildly. Like, I can only put my hands up and say that was fucking awful. Drinking, I relish those spots.
Which brings me to golf yesterday, which I also did sober. I had some anxiety (minimal, but there’s always this thought in my head that it’ll go wrong ((dribbler, shank, top, super slice)), which is never there when I’m drinking), and, believe it or not, nothing was that out of whack. Now, is that because three days sober (bowling) feels different than seven days sober (golf)? I hit some wonderful drives and put one from 150 to 6 feet on a hard shot. My mistakes had nothing to do with sobriety, which I was happy with.
I refuse to be one of those people who looks at sobriety as a godsend. I promise I won’t make another post about it as I continue it. My life needed a change. As I sat on 95 with a broken-down car and had cars whiz past me (nothing to do with drinking), it was almost like a fish bumped me out of the water with its nose, and that was the Earth telling me I should do something great.
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