And I get this swelling in my chest and I fill with overwhelming emotion. A whole heap of love, a bit of fear (will everything turn out alright?), some guilt (why did we have that massive fight about salami yesterday?), sadness (they won't be living with me forever), and finally happiness and contentment (look what I have right in front of me right now).
Oh my goodness just started crying while I typed this. Emotional me. I am very emotional nowadays!
Everything since I stopped drinking booze has been about my feelings. About how they were squashed under concrete following years of boozing. About how they burst out of me with overwhelming intensity when I first got sober. About how I struggle to deal with them as my alcohol-free life goes on.
Sometimes I hate my feelings and think they suck balls. Sometimes I find them really intense and lovely like the ones I'm feeling for my sons right now. I'm actually typing this standing in the kitchen with 20 minutes to go until we head out the door. They are playing Moana songs and singing along and making bread rolls and practicing scooter tricks and playing with the dog and chatting to each other. And here I am in the corner middle aged, sober, lumpy and bursting with feelings.
I am such a hyper-emotional and super-sensitive person nowadays. Maybe I have always been this sensitive and my drinking was to dull things and make them manageable? I cry watching sentimental television programmes or hearing sad stories on the news. I feel very acutely when nerves are creating butterflies in my tummy or stress tightens my chest. I respond strongly when any raw emotion is expressed by another person in front of me (even if they're on the tele).
I'm not complaining. I'm up for the challenge of a hyper-emotional life, warts and all. I'm up for the challenge of sobriety - have been since day one and now at day 2004 I'm just as game.
As Sarah Hepola said in her brilliant book 'Blackout'; "Sobriety is full throttle. No earplugs. No safe distance. Everything at its highest volume. All the complications of the world, vibrating your sternum."
Yes indeed. All the complications of the world. The pain of loss, the shards of disappointment, the rays of hope, the satisfaction of success, the delight in being understood, and the glory of connection.
And the brilliance of a 10-year-old boy who just farted and blamed it on the dog.
Time to stop being sentimental and get these boys to school....
Love, Mrs D xxx