Pick a cherry.
When the kids were little their elementary school would celebrate the 100th day of school and to celebrate, they’d have to bring in one hundred somethings. One year, I hot glued 100 pennies to a baseball cap and – apparently because I have zero recollection of this – another year I hot glued Hershey kisses to a cowboy hat that my daughter says she and a friend ate on the bus ride home.
Another year, we completely forgot about the 100th Day celebration, and that morning, my daughter was forced to go outside and collect 100 pinecones from our yard in a Ziploc to bring in.
All these years later, I couldn't really remember what the point was of making a big racket over 100 days in school. I asked my 18yo if he remembered why, and he said, “A hundred’s a big number, mom.”
Thursday was my 100th day of sobriety and now I see the rationale behind making a big deal about the auspicious milestone. I understand now taking time to recognize that not only is it a big number, as my son pointed out, but also the thinking behind having the kids bring in 100 of something to really see just how much 100 was.
I wish I still had that penny-covered baseball cap that I’d carefully glued all those years ago. How I tried to squeeze every last coin along the brim and across the top and tried not to burn my fingertips on the glue gun’s hot metal tip.
I’d run my hand along those shiny pennies and let my fingertips stop and consider each one, remembering that very first day of sobriety, how hard it was not to pour that first glass of wine. I’d like the visual of just how many days I made that decision not to pour that first glass of wine. And while it was so hard in the beginning, now I don’t even think about it each night.
Of course, as with most things nowadays, there’s an app you can download that helps you quantify just what not drinking looks like by the numbers. You can plug in how many drinks you had each day and what your particular poison was and how much you think each one of the drinks cost and the app will calculate the money and calories you saved and the number of drinks you would have consumed had you still been drinking.
It’s a real eye-opener, seeing the data like that. It will make you wonder why you haven’t lost more weight and whether you should consider buying yourself those Gucci loafers you’ve always longed for.
Despite not feeling thinner or richer, I do feel like I’m in the right place. It’s a feeling I’ve never had before, like an inner calm that says to me, “Keep going.”
A reader sent me a note after my newsletter last week congratulating me on my 90 days of sobriety and told me that if I could stop drinking, there was nothing I could not do and I am feeling that in my gut right now. It’s the same feeling I had after doing other big things in my life – like having a baby or getting a divorce. It reminds me that I can do hard things.
Training for a triathlon was another big life-changing event for me because that’s how terrified I was of swimming in the ocean. But early every Saturday morning that summer, I stumbled through the surf and made my way out past the waves with a pod of other women and side stroked my way through the dark water to a buoy where we turned and headed back to shore. My hyperventilating prevented me from putting my face in the water to attempt a proper crawl and instead, I reached my right hand out through the water to propel myself forward repeating the mantra, “Pick a cherry, put it in the basket.” One stroke at a time, trying to find calm and not think about what could be lurking beneath all of us splashing along the surface. Filling up my basket with 100, 200 cherries.
I’d emerge from the ocean each time and feel renewed. I’d throw my shorts and t-shirt back on over my wet suit and ride my bike the four miles back home, my body feeling sticky and alive from the salt drying on my skin. The thrill of having done something that every fiber of my being told me not to do.
That’s what sobriety is like. Each day I pick that cherry and put it in the basket, propelling myself forward while focusing on the safety of dry land that looms ahead as I kick my way towards the shore.
xoAmy