You know how some families are ‘kitchen people’? That’s my family. Extended family too. We’re all casual ‘kitchen people’, hanging out in the kitchen whether we’re eating or not.

The other day I was at my parents, sitting at their kitchen table, talking with my father. As we were talking, I noticed my dad sort of edging near me trying not to look suspicious. I didn’t know what he was up to, but I could sense his unease, so I got up and left the table to give him the opportunity to do whatever he was trying to do. I saw from the corner of my eye, as I was pretending to look through a magazine, that he was removing a bottle of bourbon from the table next to where I had been sitting.

“Gonna start happy hour early, dad?” I joked, catching him in mid-action with the bottle in hand.

“Naw, I just didn’t want you to have to sit there looking at a bourbon bottle. Darn stuff isn’t any good anyway. So-and-so gave it to me, but it’s not worth a darn.” And he stashed it safely out of sight.

What’s so very interesting and enlightening to me is that I had not even noticed it. Honestly, I had not. As I was driving home, I tried to think back to when I first sat down at the table. Was it there? I guess so, but I truly didn’t remember. This strikes me as quite remarkable.

I am no longer aware of all things related to alcohol.

Because I was a serious alcoholic for more than twenty years, there was a time in the not too distant past, when I would have been squirming in my seat because of that bottle of booze.

This is the absolute beauty of where I am now in sobriety. Actually, I don’t even feel like I’m “in sobriety”. I feel like I’m normal. A bourbon bottle is just a glass bottle with amber-colored liquid in it. It really is nothing more to me than that. It could have been tea, juice, milk, or water. This is such an awesome and unexpected reality for me.

I’ll juxtapose that to a scenario a couple of years ago, when I was struggling to remain sober.  I was sitting in my sister’s kitchen (told ya, kitchen peeps). It was a casual family gathering, and her husband opened a bottle of wine at the bar behind me. (An aside is that I never expected anyone to behave differently around me just because I had a drinking problem. My family was sensitive to it, but I didn’t feel comfortable being the reason my brother-in-law couldn’t enjoy a glass of wine in his own home.)

Even though I had stopped drinking, my brain was doing its thing.

The pop of the cork sounded so familiar, like home, and something in me perked up like a puppy waiting for table scraps. I heard the wine pour into the glass, and I could imagine the smell of it. I glanced around, and saw that it was red; my preferred vice for a long time.  As he poured a couple of beautiful glasses full – not those wimpy 5-oz restaurant pours — it was all I could do not to drool. My mouth literally watered.

I imagined the warmth as it hit my belly, then gently and predictably traveling through my bloodstream, softening the edges as it went. After those initial moments of relief and comfort, a sigh would follow. “Ah”. . . and everything would feel better.

I had a drink in my hand, but not the one I wanted.

He poured some for himself and a nephew, then he left the opened bottle there on the counter. This counter was large, occupying more than half the kitchen, and everyone, including me, was circulating all around it chatting, snacking, and sipping whatever.

The entire time I was there, I was keenly aware of all things alcohol. Who was drinking, when they got another bottle, white or red, when a glass was left half drunk, where the bottles were around the room, what type of beer they had – all of it. I was terribly preoccupied. I tried to talk and distract myself, but it was no use.

My mind was racing and spinning. How could I get some?!

It was like a part of me had been activated, and it was going crazy yelling in my head: GO GET THAT! GET IT! NOW!

I started having manipulative thoughts about getting some. I could go into the dining room, and if no one was there, and someone had left a glass half-full, I could sneak into the bathroom. No one would notice. In large gatherings people are always misplacing their glasses, right?

And I started feeling a little energy and excitement around that notion. Hmm, how could I manage this?

No! Stop this Lisa. You don’t want this. You don’t need this. But I did. I still felt like I did. I could imagine how much better I would feel if I could just have a glass or two. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just have a glass or two? Why do I have this stupid, uncontrollable, unfair disease? Why me?

Why me? Why do I have this problem? It’s not fair!

Then I started getting really perturbed and resentful and it was aimed at them – the drinkers. It wasn’t fair that I couldn’t drink too! Why would they do this to me? I was getting pissed. So, I left as soon as I could and drove home irritated and grouchy.

I’m not even drinking it and this fucking alcohol ruined my night! The unfulfilled desire stayed with me. This a crude analogy, but it’s like when you have sex, but don’t have an orgasm, ya know? And the lack of release leaves you feeling, well, unrelieved.

I still felt unfulfilled

On the way home, I called my sponsor, and drove through Krispy Kreme for doughnuts. When I got home, I did some recovery reading, and watched television to distract myself. But the next day, I remember feeling like this isn’t over. I’m not done with this drinking thing. I’ve not gotten control of it. Maybe the “one-size-fits-all” approach is not my gig.

I did eventually relapse. Again. And that’s when I began the quest for why I drank, which has led me to what you’re reading. This site chronicles my undoing of alcoholism, and how I’ve gone about it.

It’s literally like a switch has been turned off.

Through research, I’ve learned that it is possible to retrain your brain to stop craving alcohol. It is, after all, the organ effected by alcohol and in control of the behavior. And it’s now fairly common knowledge that our brains are changing all the time.

This process is called neuroplasticity. “Neuro” – brain related; and “plasticity” – plastic like, as in pliable, changeable. It is truly incredible! Indifference to alcohol. Who knew it was possible?

I truly didn’t, but now I’m living it every day. A few years ago, you never could have convinced me that I would ever be so disinterested in having a drink, yet here I am. Indifferent to alcohol. It no longer controls my thoughts or rules my emotions. Alcohol does not dictate my behavior or impact my relationships. I can’t describe how liberating this has been for me. This knowledge and process has truly changed my life.

Stick with me, and keep reading. I can guide you through your own sobriety journey.