I had a bizarre urge to stop at a local bar and get drunk the other night. I’ve been drunk maybe a half dozen times in my life. The last time in the late eighties. Where alcohol is concerned, I have a stop button. It isn’t a conscious thing. It’s just there. I don’t choose to not get drunk. Not getting drunk chooses me.
Lately, getting drunk sounds wild. I’m wanting to be wild. To dance on tables, hike through the wilderness, without a shower or a real bed. I want to be scared, be uncomfortable, be crazy, be loud, be incorrigible. I want to dig ditches, drag race, smoke cigars, get in a fight. I want the stories to tell that happen when you’re drunk.
If my kids and husband are reading this…
What I really want, is to have the energy to do those things. I want to not think about my back pain or my blood pressure or how tired I am. I want to have the energy to stay up past nine pm, hear a band, and dance on tables. I want to wear high heels and cute skirts and feel good doing it. I want to feel desirable. I want to feel on fire.
I don’t want to go to the doctor or physical therapy. I don’t want to talk about the doctor or physical therapy or meds or sleep number beds or anything to do with being unwell in any way. I want to get dirty in the woods and stay dirty and shoot a deer. I don’t really want to get drunk. I want to have the energy to get crazy and do the unexpected.
To do the unexpected…
I quit wearing my motorcycle helmet this week. And every day, while I’m still not tired, I go riding. I take roads I’ve never been on before. I ride fast, I listen to loud music and love the feel of wind in my hair.
It’s my small rebellion. The one that says “I’m not done yet”. Because I’m not done yet.