Our lives are made up of moments.  Some bring unfiltered happiness; some bring us to our knees, and some change our lives forever. It’s in all these moments that we change and grow with what we have learned, or we stay stuck in the muck and become bitter and unforgiving and cast blame on those who we believe have brought us this misery.

It’s not easy to look in a mirror and understand that you are the one in control. You are the one who gets to decide where you go, what you do, who you want to be and who it is you want in your circle.

I stopped drinking in September of last year. A decision I made on my own because I knew it was time, and I also knew I needed to be the one to end my family’s tradition of destruction that reaches back generations.

I wasn’t out of control, I wasn’t drinking every day, but – I knew I could become both of those things very easily. I knew because I had done it before.  

You stop at a bar, you have a drink, then another. Pretty soon the bartender knows your drink and has it waiting for you when you walk in. It’s easy, it’s familiar, it’s helps ease the pain of whatever is gnawing at your soul.

But, we all know, it doesn’t ease anything. 

In doing a little family genealogy, I noticed that more than a few died from cirrhosis of the liver.  My family drinks, some socially, some to excess, but they drink. It has ruined more than one life, and abuse seems to be part and parcel of the drinking.  These genes are passed from generation to generation. I’m predisposed to alcohol because it’s a “family” gene. It’s just a part of who I am. I’m not blaming them for my behavior, I’m just saying – it’s a part of me.

It was these things and so much more that made me say – enough. I won’t be them. I won’t follow that family tradition. I won’t allow it to control me. I will be the one to end this wretched part of my family’s history.

Do I miss the drinking and the bars?   I do not.

The moments I now have in my life are not clouded with anything.  They’re not always good, but they are the moments which define who I am now, and what I have chosen my life to be.  

Not all family traditions are good.  Not all the genes we inherited are meant to be lived as our ancestors lived them. 

Sometimes we take what we’ve been given, and we make our own way. I’d like to think my Great Grandma Phoebe is proud of me for not sitting on our collective barstool anymore. God rest her soul…

Until Next Time.

XOXO