9 Months

Nine months and one day, to be precise. Woke up yesterday with hubby in my face, his beard tickling my nose as he whispered “nine months today, congratulations baby” and kissed me. He’s one of those weird people who don’t have bad breath in the morning whereas I’m pretty sure my mouth smells like a small animal crawled in and died there overnight, so my instinct is to pull away. As much of a morning person as I am in that I LOVE mornings and tend to wake up and want to bounce up early, I’m also a bit of a grouch and during my first waking moments I am less tolerant of boundary breaches (aka attempts at human interaction). So hubby’s beautiful face an inch from mine the moment I open my eyes only to stare straight into his gorgeous baby blues isn’t the romantic movie moment it actually should be – he is THAT gorgeous and lovely and perfect and wonderful and sweet and sexy and lovable and generally awesome – because HE IS IN MY SPACE. Yes, I know, I’m a bitch and I should be sent straight to the naughty step for a time-out during which I should really consider being a nicer person and more appreciative of the fact that I’m married to the man with the world’s most perfect bottom who also happens to be the most wonderful man EVER. It’s unbearable – I’m unbearable – but can I for the record point out that I am not a people person? People exhaust me. Anyone else in the world tried to be in my face like that first thing in the morning and I’d have them shot. But it’s my best friend and he’s the love of my life and the person who annoys me the least out of these, what, seven and a half billion of us on the planet, so instead of throttling him I pull him into a hug and draw air from over his shoulder.

So I’m hitting the nine-month milestone during this smooth patch I’ve been talking about, and really, there’s not that much to say beyond the now normal flow of things I’m discovering in sobriety.

Hubby took me to the cinema last night and I guess the film was pretty fitting for the nine-month occasion: A Star is Born. Lady Gaga is beautifully talented and Bradley Cooper portrays a fairly likeable drunk. Oh, he is talented too, amazingly so. Everyone’s raved on so much about this movie that my expectations were sky high. It was a great film and it’s stuck with me – my head is full of it this morning – but I don’t know if it’d make my top ten list of favourite movies ever. Or maybe it would. I don’t know. The fact that I’m still thinking lots about it would suggest so.

So Cooper plays a rockstar who’s a drunk. Meets talented girl Gaga. He puts her in the spotlight. Gaga’s career takes off and eclipses his. You might have expected a story arch of resentment and jealousy from drunk Cooper here, but I don’t recall seeing any of that and if anything Cooper’s character seems happy for her and very supportive. What you might also expect is that Gaga’s star will be disappointed with Cooper’s drunk’s drunkenness and this you do get. Hubby squeezed my hand when Cooper on screen attends an AA meeting. I felt a sad twinge of recognition at meanness in drunk Cooper that the sober version then doesn’t remember or recognise as the person in black-out is someone he doesn’t know or resembles. Gaga only gets mad at him that once which might strike some as unrealistically patient and tolerant, but perhaps that’s the most accurate thing of all? That few families and friends of addicts blow up and give ultimatums? That most do precisely what Gaga is shown to do – forgive, support, move on and let live. I’m confused about the tinnitus – that seemed to be going somewhere but didn’t.

Of course Bradley Cooper is an alcoholic in real life, think I read somewhere he’s been sober for a decade or something, so that he portrays it convincingly should come as no big surprise. It was painful perhaps a little bit more for that reason. I think that’s where my high expectations came from – I just knew it would be something really, really special. Go see it, it’s a good movie, and let me know what you think. The music’s good too.

Nine months and one day. It feels good. I am happy.

Today I’m not going to drink.

9 thoughts on “9 Months

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