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Recovery…from family time

4:04 pm

I’m back from my 4th of July trip to see my dad and mom, back to back–along with my brother. And, whoa, Nellie, what a (head) trip, indeed!

See, I’m going to be blunt–and maybe it’s not my place, but I have to talk about it: both my parents suffer (yes, I know they are in pain, which makes me feel pained) from untreated mental health disorders. We think my dad has bipolar disorder, I think my mom has anxiety and possibly never-diagnosed OCD, and we know for a fact that they’ve both been treated for depression. Not a big thang, you know, if everyone involved SEES that they are suffering and makes a CONCERTED EFFORT to get and stay in treatment. But, you know, they don’t. They are not. They try to hide or avoid their issues, and they seem to be too afraid to confront them in order to change.

Of course, I get it! I could be describing MYSELF when I was in the midst of my drinking disorder! And, I know it takes what it takes, but… They are both in their 70s!? I don’t know what to do most of the time except to practice not reacting the way I want to (in anger) and accept their behavior but try to lead and/or engage them in what I see as “healthier” techniques of relating. It’s just all very hard when these people are your parents and not some strangers, or even someone else’s parents. Our shared history and my emotional baggage makes it harder to not react emotionally.

It makes me angry to see both of them not really ever seeming to resolve anything on the inside, but mostly, it is just draining to have to deal with it. I felt so drained coming home, and it took me days to stop being really angry and reactive and just heavy-hearted and like my brain had been scrambled. To make matters worse, they had these issues growing up, and they affected me in a big way–it took me years to even realize what bizarre coping mechanisms I had developed let alone start dealing with them so that they stopped negatively impacting all of my own relationships, from personal to professional!

I SO want to just out them sometimes, to yell and scream, to tell them “what is wrong with them.” But, I don’t. It just doesn’t seem…worthwhile. I’ve thought about writing a letter, which would allow me to be more measured and empathetic, but again, it just seems like it might be a waste of time. Plus, I’m not ready to go there AFTER the letter has been read, as in, I don’t have the desire to be that open right now, as their daughter, and/or the ability to play the role of psychologist. So, I just leave it–with my mom, I think she is trying to work on some of her problems, and my dad, well, I kind of consider him a lost cause at the moment because he’s manic, and it seems like a hallmark trait of mania is that until the person hits bottom, they honestly don’t believe there is anything wrong with their thoughts and behaviors.

It was great, though, to get caught up on on this stuff, and to be with each other, and to just be real. And a part of me feels sure that somehow, seeing their kids helps them stabilize a bit, normalizes whatever tangent their emotional or thought disorder has taken them on–I imagine our kid-parent bond as a powerful antidote, at least temporarily, to feeling estranged from themselves; it helps me, in a way, to feel less estranged from life, to reel me back into something bigger than myself, gives me a sense of order again, helps me find “myself” again, at least one that I recognize. I hope that I’m right, and it makes me realize that I should see them more often (I hadn’t actually seen my mom for two years, and with my dad, it had been a year…but before last year, it was three years!).

You would think that all of this would have made me want to drink, and I admit, there were a few moments when I really did think a glass of wine would make it easier to just escape, to get rid of the bad feelings, to disappear for a while. Of course, I didn’t; I had plenty of time to think about ALL that I’ve worked for the past six years, and how, really, one drink would lead me back to where I was when I started writing this blog in June, 2012. I’ve had quite a few moments, too, in the past month or so, when I’ve felt SO FUCKING BORED here, in my new home, that I have wanted to “start drinking again.” It’s weird how in this case, it’s not a glass of wine I want, but the entire habit, or activity, of “drinking again.”

Not to worry: they are just thoughts, and I have every reason in the world to NOT start drinking again. In fact, just this morning, as I was listening to a podcast about a man who lost the use of his lower body from a drinking and driving accident, I just felt so…horrible for him, and disgusted for him, but also grateful for the simple beauty of the GRAND, POWERFUL act of getting sober, of being sober. It does keep going, and it does get better, and I am still feeling wonder-full about it all–in spite of family pressures, and in spite of the occasional side of boredom that comes with the eggs and toast of life! (haha) Have a great Saturday, all!

Tags: bipolar disorder, co-dependency, co-dependent relationship, coping mechanism, family, family dynamics, family relationships, healing from family trauma, mental health disorder, parent with mental health disorder

Comments 4 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Boredom, Change, Choices, Coping mechanisms, Depression, Family, Gratitude, Holidays, Mental health, Psychology, Random, Recovery, Relationships, Sobriety

It’s crazy how things have changed

1 Jul

1:27 am

I am at home (like, home home) now, with my immediate family, and it’s crazy how *I* am the one, it seems, who is the most sober of all! And by that I mean, irritated by how much other people are drinking, unwilling to really care about fixing them or holding onto what I cannot change, and um, SHOCKED at how late people eat and how LONG they drink into the night!? What am I, old?

I watched them all pass out in their beds (or on chairs in the kitchen) while I went up to my room to do yoga and meditate. (They’re kind of one in the same for me these days; and frankly, I have had such back problems that I cannot go a day without doing yoga and most definitely not more than two without working out… But, it’s also because it’s just how I MUST DO if I am to remain centered, sober, calm and able to let everyone else’s issues and questions and concerns and gossip bounce off of me!)

So, yeah. It is crazy how things have changed. I’m also feeling much more willing, like I said, to accept people for who they are–and not try to change them, and not worry about me changing for them. Like, someone grilled me about not having health insurance at the moment, and at first I felt bad, alarmed, like, oh, yeah, maybe I should get a catastrophic policy. I had insurance, but let it lapse–and since then, well, I simply don’t worry about it. This family member worries about stuff like that; yet, here I am, doing yoga and not drinking as preventive health, and here he is, drinking like a fish and then, downing a pot of coffee the next morning.

I am feeling super-weird about keeping this blog anonymous from my family anymore, but…I realized after talking about my sobriety last night with family members that it has to be the right moment for the reveal–and I have to be extremely ready to explain myself–and it’s not, and I’m not. So, I keep putting it off…even though it’s starting to feel like a huge lie, a big withholding that equates to a lie. Then again, I GET to get this; I deserve whatever choice I choose when it comes to my privacy and space, and method for getting sober and somewhat spiritually fit. When the time comes, I’ll know it.

Till then, um, I LOVE who I have become, and I LOVE what the “right now” is for me; even IF there is extreme uncertainty (which I can deal with, and have dealt with for years as a freelance writer), well, I still have me, I have my spiritual center, I have my sobriety–which is frankly fucking invaluable. I mean, priceless. I mean, I’d take no job and no health insurance and a small rental in the middle of someplace that I’m not sure I like living (but am content in myself, so it really doesn’t matter where the “where” is anymore) ANY DAY over having things, and a big home, and “security” (which cannot exist without fear). ANY DAY.

End of rant. Good night, my sober friends. Thank you for being here, with me, all these six years–you have no idea how liberating your understanding and support has been!

Tags: dysfunctional family, I choose my choice, in the moment, in the now, just be, the sober one now, things have changed

Comments 7 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Change, Choices, Family, Mindfulness, Recovery, Sobriety, Yoga

You don’t have to be awesome, or win

25 May

4:16 pm

Yes, that’s right, folks! At 43, soon to be 44 next month, I have at last made the realization that, nope, you don’t have to be awesome, and you don’t have to win.

You don’t have to do anything amazing, or challenging even; you don’t have to do it perfectly, or better than someone else; you don’t have to win any prizes.

Life goes on; life will go on, whether you publish a book, or open a business, or make millions as a lawyer or doctor. NONE of that really matters; what matters, I say, is the fact that you got to fall in love with a dog, and walk him–he laughing into your tears with his tongue–until you stopped crying and starting laughing with him. Our boy is gone now, but he lives on in my mind; and most days, that’s the only thing that feels like it matters to me. And, I’m not sure if I am supposed to feel liberated by that or straight up SCARED to death that I am getting closer and closer to just not giving any fucks anymore!

There is so much consumerism here–buying and selling of things, of work, of jobs, of people, of relationships, of experiences–in America. Maybe it really is everywhere, but, man, does there seem to be a desire here, almost a frenzied one, to acquire experiences. I’m in on it, too, of course, and as frenzied as the next person–and enthusiastically so most days! Yet, I try to remind myself of the existence of my higher power, the higher things, the lessening and loosening and lessons of sobriety. Life is about the wind, the breath being taken away; the letting go. Sometimes I do feel…estranged, I guess, in a “land of plenty” where there is never enough, and in some cases, feels like nothing.

I am trying to write these days, and all the usual bullshit comes up; somehow, though, I had this thought the other day that it just doesn’t matter–for real. It’s a thought that I’ve tried believing before, and I got to a certain level and then you know, went back to being my normal competitive, hard-on-myself self. Yet, the other day, I just thought, you know, you’re going on 44, you don’t have to win anymore. You don’t have to get into a good school (did it, twice), be the best in that school (failed at that, but I’m sure I tried and tried), do this and that and the other (did it all, in search of “growth” and “challenge”); you don’t have to get another degree and even if you do, you don’t have to do well in the program! You don’t have to DO anything or BE anyone except…yourself. A person who will maybe be loved and maybe be forgotten; that is life, and that is what we fight for, and against, it seems, every single day.

At this, I drank. I drank so much trying to be and do and achieve and win–and also, to NOT be and do and achieve and win. Now, I don’t want to drink at this; I have accepted that this is how I feel sometimes, and what I think, and well, maybe the reality that we all have to face now and again in this lifetime.

It’s so hard not being hard on myself; it’s so hard for all of us, I assume, to not be hard on ourselves. And, I would venture to say that, even IF someone tells you, Oh, DDG, don’t be so hard on yourself; in the back of their mind, they’re thinking and plotting and planning because there seems to be so very little example here (I’ll just call this world USA, Inc.) of actually choosing to not do, to not achieve, to not regard the world and your place in it as part of a game whose very existence hinges on your winning.

I’m not sure I know anyone who has completely said, fuck it, and decided to do away with the need for validation, by self or others. I am not there yet, but there is a voice inside me that is screaming, quietly, DDG, it does not matter what you do, just be. Just breathe. You can try stuff, and do stuff; and trying it is good enough; doing it is good enough. There are no prizes, and there is no winning, and when you die, your name and your achievements will not really be remembered as much as who you were, and what your presence meant to people. So, just be.

Ahh–if ONLY I could practice this now-ness all the time, and not for about three minutes a day!

Tags: achievement, acquire experience, competition, competitive America, consumerism, definition of success, drinking thinking, fuck it, just be, just breathe, live in the moment, live in the now, neurotic thoughts, self-validation, validation, winning the game

Comments 14 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Change, Higher Power, Life, Mindfulness, Psychology, Recovery, Sober truths, Sobriety, Work, Writing

Who you are vs. who you want to be

14 May

6:14 pm

So, as you all know, we moved to a new place about three months ago, and we’re managing to stay sane, I suppose! Being in a new place, my contract job having ended, and neither of us really all that extroverted or desiring to be so–it just sort of sucks! It is NOT EASY moving somewhere new in your 40s! Haha. You sort of just don’t feel like any of it anymore, you know? I knew that I would feel more comfortable in one of the many places that I have already lived, but I thought, take a chance, go outside your comfort zone (again), yada yada yada. I think we have both realized that there is a point of diminishing returns when it comes to aging and trying certain new things, like, moving to a new place. I don’t know.

And, this has all made me start thinking about this whole, “go outside your comfort zone” thing, which I’ve been trying to do my whole life, to varying degrees of success. Like, what IS a comfort zone, and why do we have this idea of it being a bad thing? Are you supposed to be doing something that makes you feel comfortable, most like yourself; or are you supposed to be challenging yourself and doing things that are hard or scary or too big to chew? I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about how much I just can’t stand writing anymore, and I want to do something else; but, when I boil it down and observe myself in action–you know, being who I am, or who I have always gravitated toward being–I realize that I AM simply a writerly type (quiet, thoughtful, introverted, so at ease in my thoughts) and then, can’t seem to conclude that I should do something else.

Yet, what IF I didn’t want to be that thing anymore? Can I just go and be someone else entirely, throwing off the “callings” and character traits that I always seem to relax into, and instead do something that I think would make me the person I want to be (less in my head, more active, more intrepid, as it were)? I have thought about this a lot in getting sober, in moving through it all, in relocating, in losing yet another job that I didn’t really want in the first place but that I was “good” at and that I made money doing. Are you supposed to be who you are, or work at being who you want to be?

I am SO fully on board right now with trying to be who I want to be–with putting in that work–because I am so tired of who I am. I am so tired of being the neurotic writer, the science geek. It’s like, I wasn’t that good at science and wanted to major in freaking poetry in college (yeah, the fear started way back then, and it is one of my life’s regrets)!? Um, when as a child did I say, Mommy, I really want to be a…technical writer when I grow up? Time is running out, y’all. And not only that, but I am sort of becoming desperate to NOT be in my head all day–even IF it means taking a huge pay cut…at a time in my life when I need all the money I can get.

The other day, as I was contemplating who I am (a writer) versus who I want to be (maybe a public health professional, maybe someone who works for an international development nonprofit or NGO), I was struck by how confusing it is to decide who to be: which person (the one you are, the one you want to be) is more authentic, more truthful, more along the lines of fulfilling a personal destiny?

It’s a dilemma. As a writer, I am always looking for work, selling myself, and moving from contract to contract, subject to subject. I mean, it would almost be easier to be a lawyer, or anything with a well-formed trajectory, and then at a certain point be like, it’s too late to change course. As a writer, part of your job is changing course, so you are constantly also thinking about courses outside of your own realm (well, at least some of us are).

I am trying to sort of end this chapter in my life, but I have only ideas, and not enough savings, and a heavy dose of fear. I hate that. I hate feeling afraid at this late stage–I am 43 years old, and it’s only been in the past several years or so that I wouldn’t have just up and left a well-paying job to pursue a shitty paying passion. And, I am grateful for that newfound level-headedness (it has enabled a lot of financial progress and big changes, like this move), but I’m also still learning how to balance my need to earn a big check with my equally large need to feel stimulated, excited, fulfilled, wanting to get out of bed in the morning. I know there are many an alternate career I can pursue, and I just need to sit down and chart a course of action beyond the next few months. All in due time, I say.

I gave up freelance writing because it did not pay the bills; and, I think it might have just tired me out and made me believe that I didn’t like writing when in fact, it was the stress of never making enough money. I WANT to be like, eh, I don’t need the savings, the retirement account; I should just Go For It and become a barista (again), or a teacher, or a poorly paid writer for an international NGO. Yet, can I expect to feel safe, or, the way I want to feel, on that kind of income anymore? In an ideal world, we would have a thriving business, which would allow me to pursue a more “passionate” career again; in THIS world, maybe we would both feel equal parts comfortable and challenged; in this world, maybe I would love being a writer again.

Exhale. It will all be OK, I keep telling myself. You got this. It’s all about balance, right?

Tags: comfort zone, define yourself, go outside your comfort zone, job to pay the bills, job you love, passion versus money, self-definition

Comments 8 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Change, Choices, Definitions, Goals, Life, Psychology, Recovery, Sobriety, Work, Writing

Perchance to dream

16 Apr

4:26 pm

I had to look up this quote from Hamlet to make sure I wasn’t using it totally out of context–no, I have no intention of ending my own life, but the phrase conjures this idea of dreaming, of an uncertainty toward the future precisely because you have one. I like this. That is what I mean, perchance to dream…

I haven’t been writing much lately mainly due to the fact that life just feels busy–has felt busy, for going on years now. I average one post a month here, and sometimes I feel like I have more to say, and sometimes I feel like I have nothing more to say. So it goes with writing, I guess.

Anyway, my brain has felt overloaded for the past too many months, with doing what needs to be done: all the little details of work, earning a living, making life happen. Two weeks ago, my contract job ended, and I don’t know if it will come back to me as a full-time role, and I know I don’t necessarily need to work for a few months–well, it’s the first chance I’ve had to breathe, to clear my head, to DREAM in a good long several years now. Shit! It’s been years since I pitched a journalistic story!? It’s been years in the making, my to-do list of personal projects and ideas! YEARS, friends, not months! And, how GREAT does it feel to finally, at last, have some real time off in my new city (well, it’s suburbia, but it’s been home for three months now).

I feel like I can finally take that much needed step away from the daily grind, enjoy a slower pace, see what there is to see in this new home, and really look at what I’ve been spending my mind time doing–finally use this time to DREAM.

I need time to figure out what’s next. We’ve been living states-side for about three months, and frankly, we don’t like it. Well, no: we LIKE the conveniences and cleanliness very much; what we don’t love is, well, the TOO much convenience, and the TOO much cleanliness!? I know this feeling, as I felt it when I came back to America a couple years ago for a while after having lived in the islands for a few years. It felt sterile, and the consumerism was just too much–cars and malls, malls and cars.

Now, that sense of “buy buy buy” is acutely intense–everything is about buying and selling here, and nothing feels to be about community, or “culture,” as it were. I sort of hated the “culture” when we were in the islands, as I never felt all that welcome; now, all I see here is a lack of character, and a lack of history in some parts, which kind of lends a certain soullessness to the place. On the other hand, I am grateful to be here, to have been able to finish out my contract in a new apartment with easy access to green space and with reliable, always-on utilities! So, it’s not all bad.

So, yes, perchance to dream? It’s a luxury that many people don’t often get. In this mental space, though, I’ve noticed that a LOT of self-judgment is coming up, and I guess I should see this as a chance to work on simply accepting how I feel, and going with my gut, and not judging it as bad, or wrong. We all have gut feelings about people, places, and things. I am not sure why, but for most of my life, I did what I “should,” and not necessarily what I wanted–partly, it was and continues to be about deciphering calling from job; and discarding things that I simply don’t like or don’t suit me, that don’t make my brain hurt or scare me to death but that challenge me just enough to feel fulfilled.

These things change, and I am pretty sure that they will keep on changing–what fulfilled me in my teens and 20s is no longer what I want or need to do now! So, instead of judging the way I feel about being here, in this new place; instead of punishing myself because I “should” like it–why not honor those feelings, and embrace them for what they are, which is guiding lights? I need all the guiding light I can get right now, and so, embracing how I feel, actually honoring my feelings instead of hating on myself for having them, well that seems KEY to future happiness.

Perchance to dream–I will let you know what I come up with! For now, it includes finally working on finishing the start of a big writing project; checking out the barista scene here; taking some camping trips (one reason we moved out here was to be able to camp and see all the great natural wonders of the West; we didn’t realize that a desert climate has all sorts of variables that might slow us down, like wind, and lack of humidity, and dangerously high temperatures); looking into finally moving from corporate work to nonprofit or NGO or disaster response (I once dreamed of getting a degree in public health, and maybe that’s something, too)…the list goes on, and I am super-duper grateful for days like today, when I feel “up” enough to not be overwhelmed, when I feel energized and clear-brained and well-rested enough to WANT to do all these things. NOT always the case, folks; there have been quite a few days here when I haven’t felt like doing anything, where I’ve been wondering, will I ever feel excited the way I used to, about doing all these things on my “bucket list?”

It brings me ’round to mentioning that yup, over the past few weeks into months, I have wanted to start drinking red wine again, mainly for the “anticipation celebration” effect. When I was getting sober, I wrote a lot about how drinking seemed to fuel a long many years in my life of achievement-oriented work, play, goals. I drank in order to get excited to do things–and it worked, as wine drops dopamine, and your entire system just feels excited, and MOTIVATED–and I drank while I was striving for “excellence” and “achievement” in order to reward myself for all this freaking brain-crushing, soul-sucking “excellence” and “achievement.” It was as if–and maybe it was actually so–my entire life of striving was built on the anticipation and then, reward of wine after a “job” well done.

So, when I quit drinking, and even now, of course, I struggle with feeling excited to do stuff! Like, at night, I often feel I’ve done nothing, or not enough, with my day; I felt that way before I quit drinking, and I would mask it by downing wine. I can’t hide from these feelings anymore, and I still have them, and I struggle at night when it’s time for bed and I’m like, I feel SO GOD DAMNED BORED but yet of all the MILLION things I could be doing, I don’t want to do any of them. So, I go to bed, moping, feeling defeated, depressed, wondering, what’s the point here? I am SO squandering my talents, my time, my LIFE.

Wow. I know, I am neurotic, and it’s helped and hurt me. What I am saying is, lately, I have been wanting to drink out of a sense of frustration at night (I am so not sexy anymore, here, this wine will make me feel young and hot again–NOT…haha) and a sense of existential panic (I feel so bored and so maybe I should read or write, but I SO don’t feel like doing that, and I can’t escape both feelings so here, let me have this wine to just erase the fuck out of all of this nonsense–NOT…haha). Of course, I have no intention of drinking again, I stay firm, but, it’s not to say that this wispy idea hasn’t been coming back to me over and over again, sneaking its way into my “Oh, that sounds like a good idea” thought patterns… I know I could benefit from meditation, and it’s something that has helped me in the past.

It’s a process, but I stand firm because I KNOW that drinking is not going to change ANYTHING but the cosmetic appearance (to myself) of my life; that I will wake up with the same face, black eyeliner smeared into bruise-like patterns where rouge and lipstick should be, wondering why I just spent $50 on wine and wasted another night?

Anyway, perchance to dream, and inhale, and exhale, all while sober–how lucky am I!

Tags: dreaming, dreams, future goals, life goals, life transitions, moving, time off, what's next, wine

Comments 4 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Boredom, Change, Choices, Goals, Gratitude, Life, Moving, Random, Recovery, Sobriety, Work

Is self-love radical?

5 Mar

11:12 pm

We’re finally settling in here, coming up on 6 weeks after our big move. And, while we’re getting used to the new normal–stores, working electricity, no bugs (and therefore, an almost-vacuum of sound at night), a sense of being definitively bounded by four walls (not the sky as one, the ocean as the other three)–I’m still feeling a bit disoriented. But, I just plugging away, and doing what needs to be done; sort of the same thing over and over, day in and day out. That’s how I’m coping with all this change. Kind of sounds just like getting sober, eh?

This move has been challenging, to say the least. Who am I here? Who are we? And, am I still sober or do I just not drink? I guess I’m sort of on autopilot at the moment, and with that, some of my old “character defects”–feeling restless and irritable, desperately not wanting to “miss out”–crop up. I don’t feel like I can relax, or let go of the reins, and therefore, my dreams, and my sense of humor, and my romanticism are sort of dwindling.

I know it’s all got to come back once we find our way, but I must say, once in a while, out of boredom and restlessness (I feel so boring sometimes, especially if I don’t write or dissolve into a slightly more magical reality), I do wonder if I can drink again? Like, it’s been so long, can’t I…improve this mood, make me funny, and young, and sexy again? NOT! I know it’s just a fleeting thought, but I still have it and others like it once in a while–especially under stress, or while I’m PMSing.

Lately, I’ve been stuck in the past–and, angry about it as well as confused as to how I actually have a past (haha)! First up, I’ve been ruminating on friends who I feel just don’t get the new me–I know it’s been years since I got up, got sober, and went my own way, but I wonder, WHAT do they think happened to me? Like, these were good friends, but friends who never bothered to ask me, so, you quit drinking, moved to an island, and…what happened? Why did you do that? How did you fare? What’s your life been like? Who ARE you now? And, now that I’ve moved to a totally wacky-choice place (it’s a place I never would’ve imagined I would live)–not ONE of these so-called friends has inquired at all. Maybe they never cared, or maybe we just fell out of touch as our lives moved on. Maybe probably I was bad keeping in touch; yet, they KNEW of my drinking problem, and how much emotional trauma I had put myself (and them) through–so, I get tired of making excuses for them. The street goes both ways, it really does, and after a while, I think you just have to truly, finally let old “friends” go and make new ones.

Second, I finally got ahold of a set of old boxes full of old stuff–like, my life in pictures and scrapbooks, journals, jewelry, and stuffed animals–stuff spanning my childhood through teenage, college, and early 20s years. And, I went through it today. And, uh, I felt nothing but sadness, and confusion: sad that years have passed, we’ve all aged, and yeah, I’m definitely, I guess, “not young” anymore; confused in that, I don’t know what to do with all the memories, all the powerful experiences and people who have shaped who I’ve become, or, more pointedly, who I became up until I quit drinking. I am angry at that person (my younger self), and all those people and places and things that “happened to me” before I got sober. Why? It’s my life, it’s what made me, me! I guess I’m just at a loss as to what the point of all those experiences are, when, today, I have nothing really to do with those old friends, exes, people who left such a mark on my path; all the experiences and diplomas and takeaways. Since getting sober, I have practiced so much living in the present, and maybe forgetting about a painful past, that I literally forgot about it; erased a lot of times that have made me, me. It’s strange: what’s the point of all the living that we do, when in the end, all it amounts to is a few boxes of fading, illegible memorabilia?

I wish I could have hung onto all that, but I had to let it go in getting sober. At least so it SEEMS to me now. And, I think the hardest work in sobriety is after you make the break, the split with your old self and life and you finally do get sober–what do you go back for, reconcile, keep? How do I love my younger self, when I SO didn’t love her then?

I see my story, how things turned out, what was happening THEN so much clearer now; and the biggest question I have is, why did I hate myself so much? I was so sweet, clear, beautiful, harmless–at least from the outside. I was such a pleaser. Yet, I felt NO ONE loved me, and I definitely hated on myself. Maybe it’s just common to teenagers, or common to people affected with depression and anxiety, which I had growing up. I don’t know, but I did kick and scream against my self-hatred for a long time, and it wasn’t until I got sober and started practicing what I now see as an almost-defiant act–self-love–that I have come to realize how DIFFICULT it is to push against that hate, pressure, disapproval, discrimination put on you as a kid or teenager. The more I come into my own and STRUGGLE to love myself every day, the more I see not only what a DEFIANT act it is to practice self-love, but how RADICAL an act it is. To consciously love yourself is a radical act of defiance. And I don’t think I’m the only one who understands this! I think we all struggle with this determination that no matter what has happened, or happened to you, you must push up and into the sky, and love yourself.

The boxes are too much, so I’m putting them in the closet. The past will always be there, but right now, I need to live in the present, and somehow begin to again honor and love the girl who got me here.

Tags: aging, letting go of the past, life changes, moving, radical self-love, self-love, transitions

Comments 11 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Boredom, Change, Depression, Friendships, Life, Psychology, Recovery, Relationships, Self-empowerment, Sobriety

We’ve arrived

8 Feb

6:32 pm

And, in more ways than one!

We made the leap to the mainland two weeks ago today, and I have to say, it not only went much more smoothly than I thought it would, but we are settling in much more easily than I thought we would. I mean, we have everything we need, and it’s so damn convenient, and clean, and new, and affordable in America! I didn’t appreciate this the last time I moved back; this time, I honestly could not be happier. And, man, is that a crazy-new feeling for me.

Needless to say, there will be no drinking in this apartment. Ever. And, I think this actually might be a first for me–I have never in my adult life lived in a place that will have been, in the end, an absolutely alcohol-free (well, for me, anyway) home. Sha-zam!

It’s good to have begun the moving-on process, admittedly. And, it’s such a relief to have some normalcy, which for people who have lived in the “rest of the world” (i.e., not America) actually equates to luxury. We have electricity all the time that is also affordable; with that comes always-on high-speed Internet; with all that comes new and clean and abundant STUFF–stores and food and furniture, manicured shrubbery and planned communities and stewarded (by laws!) natural recreation areas (the best of them in this part of the country, I would say). Gasp! It’s all too much. And I fucking LOVE IT. The abundance here is overwhelming, yes, but frankly, I was exhausted of island life–the endless inconveniences, the sort of dirty living, the hostility of locals toward “Americans” and vice versa–yah, I don’t think I’ll be able to inhale the abundance fast enough. Not to say that I don’t miss aspects to living in the islands; but, when I return, it’ll probably be to a different island, or maybe the mainland Caribbean.

So, now what we’re working on is settling into a new rhythm, which can be frustrating. Like, I still haven’t found much time to write; my days consist of keeping up with my “real job” and figuring out a new daily routine that works for me and for us. (Our “bear” with canine lymphoma is slowly making his exit; but, I’m grateful that he made it here, and has already been able to see snow, and will probably hang on long enough for us to let him go). And, I have to remember, it will take time. Settling into a new normal takes time, and patience, and self-care. Just like sobriety!

Looking forward to actually writing more this year. I just wanted to check in and say howdy, folks, and hope all are doing great. No wine here; no whine here.

Tags: abundance, America, content, contentment, happiness, happy, moving, moving on, real world, simple life, sober home, the little things

Comments 10 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Change, Gratitude, Happiness, Moving, Recovery, Sobriety

Oh, hello, 2018!

4 Jan

4:26 pm

Does it feel to others like 2018 has come in so quietly it’s almost snuck in?

This year is going to be all about transitions, crossings, and changes–and, of letting go of the reins, or at least, loosening the grip.

Welp, without much fanfare–and with some anxiety–2018 has arrived. 2017 went fast, flew by, sort of took my breath away; and, I had a feeling it would, when by the beginning of February, I had already flown across the country for work, and was embarking on the first of several (months-long) job interviews (none of which I was offered, but that’s OK). In fact, last year was all about searching–pushing and planning and striving and trying SO hard to see…the future. I took a lot of trips, my favorite, of course, being a solo journey to South America (man, I can’t even believe that happened, what with how the hurricanes have changed the course of our lives)… All this is to say that, last year was so much about trying to move the Earth, and sort of succeeding, but mostly just laying cable and putting up with all the frustrations that come with trying so hard.

Last year, I think my “phrase” of the year was, move the Earth, or something like that. I guess I moved it a little bit (I started on a big writing project, and that is the one thing, aside from moving, that I want to get done this year). I moved around it a lot, that’s for sure.

This year? Shit. Let the damn Earth move itself. Let it happen. Let it go…

Gratefully, I am bouncing back after a few weeks of pretty intense sadness: our dog WAS diagnosed with canine lymphoma, and…yup, major tears all around. Wailing tears, to be exact, for a few days in a row, and then…acceptance. This is happening, and there is no cure. He’s only 9, and far too young to be looking like an old dog now, but…this is happening. We aren’t going to treat him in favor of making his last months somewhat bearable with prednisone (though, that stuff is making him really, really groggy). I have started him on this weird diet thingie I found online, so I’m hopeful (yay, hope!) that this might turn it around and land us a miracle. There’s always the possibility of a miracle, I have to believe.

So, there’s that that’s been literally keeping me up at night. Oh, and we’re moving, too! In a few weeks! Like, a big move, across the continent! This, too, is happening. We’ve sold my car, arranged for our landlady to buy our household full of stuff (so she can rent our place furnished), and are in the process of getting flights, flight letters for our precious babes (dogs), and all the other stuff that comes with moving. My job is aight (but, another thing! it’s ending in March!), and the only thing that sucks about it is that we don’t have anything resembling a good cell service connection at home anymore (thanks for nothing, AT&T), so I have to go out looking for Internet in order to work (and write this blog post).

Mostly, I feel excited, sad about the endings that are coming up, and on edge. Like, I have been waking up almost every night at 4 am–after only about 4 hours sleep, which is exhausting and maddening–and it’s usually accompanied by anxiety. Like, dark terre thoughts. And, the next day, I feel anxious and depressed. And, it’s made me realize that I have NEVER truly experienced this before, but now I can totally see the connection between insomnia and anxiety and depression! Like, there is something about waking up at 4 am that makes me crazy–angry, panicky, and depressed the next day. I cannot control my negative thinking the way I can when I am fully rested.

And, this just makes me remember how I used to get wrapped up in drinking thinking–negative thoughts and thinking patterns that are caused by alcohol, and not a part of me. I used to think that all my complicated depressive thoughts were of me, but really, they were a part of the drinking. It’s so hard to see that when you’re not sober; it’s very easy to see when you’re separate from alcoholic drinking. Anyway, I guess it’s a reminder to be cool, and remember that it will get better.

Just a quick update to say, happy new year and that I’m looking very much forward to watching the Earth move itself in 2018. How about you?

Tags: anxiety, insomnia, let it go, letting go, New Year, New Year's resolution

Comments 3 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Change, Choices, Events, Holidays, Insomnia, Moving, New Year, PTSD, Recovery, Sobriety

Writing and cold cities

27 Nov

11:45 am

Hey, folks, Well, I’m here, back at it, and ready to be fierce. NOT! Happy Thanksgiving to all, and a kickoff of the holiday season! For some, that means painful memories, for others, it means an uber-busy next few months. For me, it means both, and cookies, and cakes, and just continuing to be grateful–5-plus years later–that I am here, and not there. Here, having this life, with its ups and downs; and not there, drinking my everything away, and all the possible everything’s, too.

I realized recently that part of what is causing me to feel less than whole is that I’ve stopped writing. Even writing this makes me feel a bit sick in the pit of my belly–anxious, actually. Must must must start writing again! I think my depression, and self-loathing (to be blunt, I hate myself more than a little when I don’t write or create), is caused by this. There is no magic in my world if I’m not writing, or, in general, being creative. I look at this blog and think, what happened to that girl? She is still here, she’s just not writing. And therefore, not feeling quite whole.

The hurricanes have turned our world upside down, and rearranged our lives. I miss going to the beach; I miss running on said beach road. I miss knowing that while I’m in the middle of the ocean, things are FINE here–things are NOT fine here, and things won’t be fine for a while. There are uncertainties that won’t–can’t–be ironed out. There are things and faces and places that are never coming back. And, while I want to ignore this reality, it’s there, the new “normal,” as everyone down here keeps repeating.

I refuse to give up, though, on figuring out what, exactly, I need and want right now. It’s not wine, it might be hormones, it could be a move (while we have made our exit plan, which is both saddening and enlivening to me, I know changing locations is not going to change what’s going on inside my head and heart, fundamentally), and it most definitely is to start writing/being creative more. I won’t give up! And, I won’t stop choosing to be happy, content, grateful, and empowered by that choice.

I flew home last week after about 3 weeks away. I am glad to be home, with my loves, in the light (literally; cities just might not be in my cards anymore because they are so dark, so angular); and one main thing I realized when I was there, in the big city, is that if I’m honest, I don’t really want that lifestyle anymore. And, that it is OK to be angry and that instead of fighting the anger, the sadness, the whatever negativity I’m feeling, I should just accept it. Huh? The thought sort of bowled me over: accept and don’t judge your negative feelings instead of exhausting yourself trying to outrun them. I’m going to try the former and see what happens.

And, so, yeah, cities. Drinking and going out in cities, which is what I did and how I defined myself for so long. Not anymore. I mean, YAH, it really is a bit more heartening to go out for a pink twilit walk with the dogs than to be walking into a pub, ready to temporarily and artificially enhance my mood! It really is better this way, soooo much better. Even when I feel quite lonely here–alone as we all do now and then on our solo paths and journeys–I know that I have this world within that is never-changing, that is always bathed in that pink moonlight, that is there to hold me, to embrace me, and to tell me that It Will Be OK.

It Will Be OK.

That is default setting when you’re sober. When you’re not, default setting is, The World Sucks and Nothing Will (Ever) Be OK.

Walking into a cold bar to drink among cold non-friends? Eh, no thanks anymore. I choose light, and happiness, and maybe even accepting the darkness so I can move through it without fear. Huh, maybe cold cities have more to teach me than I thought?

Tags: accept anger, anger, change, cities, cold cities, dark bars, darkness, don't judge your feelings, embrace anger, lack of sunlight, mindfulness, moving, negativity, writing

Comments 8 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Bars, Binge drinking, Change, Choices, Depression, Gratitude, Happiness, Holidays, Recovery, Sobriety, Writing

On anger and forgivness

16 Nov

12:10 am

There is no way around it: I am angry. I am just plain angry. I want to scream into their faces, Who do you think you are? And, what, exactly, do you think you’re doing? It’s about being sober, and being able to see those people SO uber-clearly now, 5.5 years later–and seeing that some of these faces are bullies, and the bullies can’t touch me anymore.

I think I have had a lot of bullies in my life, and I NEVER knew what to do about them–out of fear, out of self-loathing (as in, for some reason, I believe I don’t have the right to talk back), out of lack of self-confidence (as in, my idea or path can’t be the right one). I let people bully me–but I also, of course, participated in the exchanges by not being direct, or being secretive, or taking things too personally, or just plain assuming things that were not or are not true. That’s part of my alcoholic drinking problem as much as it is a personality “flaw.” However, not “talking back” led me to bury a lot of anger, and to learn to bury it and be passive-aggressive (which I fully admit that I can be). Now, I see the bullies and their ways for who and what they are, and I do talk back, and the response is usually one of either reciprocal anger or deeper bullying tactics. And this, too, I can see, and it makes me angry!

Am I paranoid? Maybe. I just feel like, with these handful of old relationships, they’re still running on (over) the “old me” tracks. Even now, years later into my sobriety. It’s actually strange to see how these people either try to continue their old ways, or simply detach because they just don’t know how to relate to the new me, or simply don’t want to relate to her.

Can’t we move forward? Is it my job to school them on the “new me?” Probably, and eventually. It’s hard, though. It takes a lot of trial and error and effort! And, for people who for some reason refuse to acknowledge my sobriety–my having gotten sober–it just doesn’t seem possible to have a relationship. And that is the hard truth, because I am the one who has to accept the change and move on with or without their ability or desire to relate to the new me.

Maybe letting go of this anger and paranoia, this is part of that elusive process of “forgiveness?” I wish I felt some sense of sustained relief, of renewal when I have chosen to forgive, but it’s more of an intellectual pursuit for me–the next day, when I think about that person, I feel angry again. Nothing has changed, inside or out. I know that I should continue to try–but, IF these people are in MY PERSPECTIVE (again, that could be skewed) bullying me because they still think of me as sad or poor or drunk; how can I cultivate good will toward them? It just doesn’t compute…yet.

It could just be a matter of having those hard conversations, where I, um, tell them how I feel and allow them to explain to me how they feel. Haha. Oh, me.

On a somewhat different note: I am not at home (where we get a LOT of sun) right now, and I really notice it (I think your brain gets used to a certain amount of light and can no longer function well in places that are darker). That is me, now; it’s actually been me for years, and every time I come back to this city, I am a little bit less enamored (I am in the cold city where I became a drunky drunk girl, and where I also started this blog two days after quitting drinking). I’ve been here before, in this space of being reminded, literally around every turn, of what went down and who I used to be–and, I’m used to the sour feeling in my eyes and belly and brain, that thing I just can’t shake, that time machine effect where suddenly, I am closer to BEING that old me than I am of only just remembering who she was. And, it is not a good feeling; it’s not as heart-hurtful and soul-sucking as it used to be, but it’s still there.

Am I still there? Maybe I am; or, maybe I’ve just never dealt with my anger. I don’t get it. FIVE years later, after having worked through what I thought was my anger, and now…I see that I’m just scratching the surface? It kind of scares me, this whirling from past to present and back again; how my emotions can exist in a timeless state, evergreen, able to trip me with the flick of a brain cell back into my past. Boom, and I’m literally there; and it’s hard to not feel the same way, to not see myself as my past self. The thing is, I AM that person, as much as I am the one writing this now; I can’t not embrace what happened to me, what I went through, because that has made me the person I am now.

Is this how it’s always going to be, living in a prism-like reality, where it’s never really over? I guess as long as I have memories (which, hopefully will be until the day I die!), and as long as I choose to confront these deep-seated feelings that caused me to drink in the first place–no, I don’t think it will ever be over. In fact, for the first time in many, many days, I’ve thought about drinking (more than once while here; not good). I have even slipped into thinking, ahh, it would take the edge off, it would be such a nice treat, a reward for slogging through..what? A dark, cold night? A storage unit that seems to have a life of its own? Um, NO. No, no, no. It would SO not be a relief, or a treat. Duh, I know this. God, do I know this!

I have had FIVE damn years of practice, of re-training my brain–am I just feeling extra-sensitive to the triggers here because this is where the worst of it went down? Probably, and I will remain steadfast, but…I haven’t heard the whiny voice of wolfie-boy (a pup barely in the womb, that’s how small it is) in a very long time, and it’s more confusing and surprising than anything.

On that note, I have to close it up because it’s midnight and I have a bunch of stuff to do tomorrow. Needless to say, I still love this city, and I am, of course, grateful to be here, now, sober.

Tags: anger, angry, being bullied, bully, forgiveness, paranoia, paranoid

Comments 18 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Change, Cravings, Family, Friendships, Issues, Recovery, Relationships, Sobriety, Triggers

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Drunky Drunk Girl

Recovery…from family time

It’s crazy how things have changed

You don’t have to be awesome, or win

Who you are vs. who you want to be

Perchance to dream

Is self-love radical?

We’ve arrived

Oh, hello, 2018!

Writing and cold cities

On anger and forgivness

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