Today marks 120 days since I've had a drink. Four months without alcohol. And you know what? I don't really miss it. Have there been times when I've said to myself, "Man, I could use a glass of wine to take the edge off"? Absolutely. But for the most part, the lack of alcoholic beverages in my life is no big deal. And whether he recognizes it or not, this should be sending a message to my son about self-medication.
"Be the change you want to see in your loved one," was the directive the family therapist in my son's rehab facility gave us. Meaning that it was hypocritical for my wife and I to tell my son not to self-medicate and then turn around and have a glass of wine or a beer or a margarita after a stressful day. It makes a lot of sense, really. And it's really a small sacrifice to make in the grand scheme of things. (The icing on the cake is the fact that I've lost 17 pounds over the last few months. I'm sure the lack of alcohol has been a contributing factor to the weight loss.)
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