just practicing a little thing called…

Some days are sad. You wake up, everything feels grey and muted, and you just want to sit down with something alcoholic (we’ll say a mimosa because those are acceptable before noon).

I’m working on honesty. It turns out, I’m not a very honest person. Not that I lie (very much), but I omit tons.

Some of my lies are blatant. Them, “How are you today, Krissy?” Me, “Great!” See, sometimes that is true, but sometimes it is a convenient lie. I’m not big on feelings, and sometimes “Great!” is an easy way to avoid a conversation.

Some of my lies are subtle. Them, “I can’t stand seeing a girl with a cigar…” Me, “*crickets*” I am a fan of smoking a cigar every now and then. I like the flavor and the way the smoke hangs in the air. I like the little buzz that happens in my brain. I even like that it still makes me feel like a rebellious badass although it is not a particularly rebellious or badass thing to do. But, does everyone need to know? Maybe not the people that wouldn’t like that little fact about me. Or maybe…

I like to have a drink with my friends, but I’m pretty scared of bars. Bars are loud and they smell, it’s true, but I think too many people associate having a drink with seedy hole-in-the-walls. If I say, “I could go for a hard cider right now.” in the wrong crowd… Well, suddenly I’m a wino that only sobers up long enough to stumble to the bar. So, most of the time, I just don’t mention alcohol, and when people around me curse its existence, I keep my feelings and my rant about the failure of prohibition to myself. Another tiny lie of omission.

Today I’m having a sad day.

Later, I’ll probably go home and turn on a movie or crack a book or take a bath. Before I do any of those things, I’ll open my fridge and take out a beer or a bottle of hard cider. It’s not that I think it will solve my problems to drink. No, that would make me a bit of an alcoholic, now wouldn’t it. It’s just that I enjoy it, and when I’m having a sad day, I like to do everything I can to make myself not sad. In this case, that is going to involve relaxing and forgetting vet bills and sad, sick puppies.

I’m developing a definition for myself that I am okay with.

It turns out I’m okay with that definition including the occasional cigar or alcoholic beverage. It also turns out that I’m okay with being honest about that.

Maybe this honesty thing will have some advantages…

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