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Who you are vs. who you want to be

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

Our bear passed on…

21 Mar

10:58 am

On Saturday, March 17th, our “son” (beagle mix, almost 10 years old) passed on to the next realm, or whatever you believe exists after our brain turns off and we take our last breath. We were beside him on the bed as the house-call vet (who happened to have gone to vet school in the islands, which was actually quite comforting–we just moved here, and it still feels quite foreign) stabbed some “feel good” drugs into his heaving frame, and then followed that with barbiturate. I have had people and pets die, of course, but I have never been in the room as the creature took its last breath.

I almost took my last breath as, a moment later, our dog stopped breathing and his eyes went glassy and still. It was heart-wrenching, and it was seared into my brain.

As I’ve written, he was such an intimate part of my island life, and was everything to me for the 6 years that I knew him: coworker (I work from home), confidant, best friend, higher power. Once, when I was still drinking and had just arrived on island to visit the man who is now my fiance, I drank and blacked out and yelled; and our boy was so scared he hid outside under the truck. That was before I knew what a gentle, sweet soul he was, apt to cower at even the slightest expression of frustration, the smallest rise in voice. I vowed never again to scare him like that, and it was that memory, along with so many nights of love, comfort, and simply his presence that kept me from uncorking a bottle of red wine.

As my mind, however, begins to do what I could not imagine a few days ago–accept the unacceptable, normalize the horrific, move on from death–all I’m left with is a sense of awe and anger: the mind is an amazing, if not entirely effed up, place. Haha.

As we moved through the first hours without our little man, I couldn’t help but recognize in my actions the similarities between coping with death and dealing with a hangover! I spent the day clinging to “micro-goals,” like, breathing, like thinking about my next breath without having a panic attack; putting some food down my throat; paying my bill; rearranging the pillows on the couch; forcing a smile just to know that my face was still there.

And I gasped when I suddenly realized that EVERY one of my hangovers was a small death–a little death, but a death all the same. And, of all the horrific events of the last few days, that realization was kind of the most horrifying–that we, as alcoholics, put ourselves through a death every single day, for months, years, decades. How cruel are we to ourselves! Our bodies, minds, and souls deserve so much more; we deserve to be sober, we deserve to live.

I have wanted to smoke a cigarette the past few days, when my heart has felt so tight I could barely think; but not drink. I can’t imagine going through this trauma and being drunk or hungover. I still think about my old drinking buddies, some of whom are still using booze to coat, soothe, forget; and I wonder, how is it that I got here, that I GET to be free, to actually live through this pain alcohol-free–such that I can, again, transform it to something else, something positive, something light?

It was interesting to watch our other dog sniff at death and then immediately move away; it was saddening but also interesting to watch myself caress my boy’s corpse right after he stopped breathing, check his eyes (I was like, Is he definitely gone?) a couple times, and then…move away. We instinctively move away from death. Likewise, eventually, we instinctively move away from drinking alcoholically; drinking alcoholically is death, and we move away from it to life, to light, to clarity, to actually processing our reality.

I miss him, but I know I have to be grateful for all the life he gave me, the love he allowed me to see in myself, the thing that we conjured together by loving each other–that lives on, I have a strong sense. And for that I am grateful.

Tags: accept death, canine lymphoma, death of dog, dog, dog is higher power, dying dog, hangover is death, hangover is like dying, higher power, lymphoma, mortality

Comments 6 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Coping mechanisms, Death, Gratitude, Hangover, Higher Power, Life, Mortality, Psychology, Recovery, Relationships, Sobriety

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

Moving on

23 Oct

11:50 am

I seem to post monthly these days, and I guess that’s got to be OK for now–I’ve had other things on my (very scattered) mind. Things are rolling along, sober, of course. It’s been about 7 weeks since we were hit by Hurricane Irma, and life hasn’t been the same, or in any way normal. We’ve tried to keep it “normal,” but it’s really been a matter of survival on big and small levels.

We have food and water and ice (thank goodness my boo works at a bar, so he has been able to get us ice on the regular–a very, very “hot” commodity, even now, 7 weeks post-storm), and a couple generators; I’ve managed to use my phone to connect to the Internet to work–those are big things. On the small side, I still go running (albeit, I stay in the ‘hood because I don’t want to take my car out on the roads–and, running up our hills in this heat is just plain ridiculous!), and we still go out to eat (albeit, half the places are still closed, and the other half are still only offering “hurricane menus”), and we managed to finally take a day “off” from all this survival stuff to sit on a beach for the first time in 6 weeks on Saturday (we didn’t go in the water because many beaches are still testing positive for bacteria from runoff).

Through all this, I haven’t wanted to think much about being sober; yet, I could (and do!) think about it all the time, if I allow myself the space to feel gratitude (and not just feel, ‘I have to do this,’ and ‘I have to do that’–which, admittedly, we’ve been doing a lot of lately in this post-hurricane situation).

I am planning yet another trip–maybe that’s my true “addiction,” traveling–this time back to the cold city where I started my sober journey; and I have to admit, I have thought about drinking while there. At this point, though, after all that I’ve worked for and all that’s passed, it’s a fleeting remnant of a thought. In fact, I don’t think I would ever act on it, but…that’s not to say I trust myself completely. Yes, I trust my “higher power” (my higher self, or mind) completely, but I can say that I don’t trust “me,” which is my lower mind, my urges, my ego, my negative, black-and-white thinking patterns that continue to be obstacles in my otherwise clear path.

Like I mentioned, these days, we’ve been dealing mainly with post-hurricane stuff: how to keep our food cold since the refrigerator crapped out; how to maintain the generator and when to turn it off (you can’t use any of the tiny appliances like the toaster oven and coffee maker if you are also running the water pump off the generator–who knew those devices took SO much electrical power?); how to keep ourselves entertained with spotty cell service and no electricity in sight for months. It’s all become somewhat boring to think about, actually, and well, we’re doing FINE–I feel ever-grateful that we didn’t get hit harder. Still, it’s taken a toll on our stress levels. On the flip side, it’s encouraged us to move on.

To that end, my next step is to fly back to the mainland to visit a couple more cities, and then come home, make our choice, and move on. Sure, this place is familiar and at times, magical in how beautiful it is; but it’s simply time to move on. I got sober here; we fell in love here–it will be undoubtedly bittersweet to leave. Yet, no matter how I slice and dice it in my mind, I have to move on. We must move on. When I moved back to a place that I left (years ago), I experienced the absolute abject horror (it was truly a waking nightmare for me) of being that ghost in my own life, wandering around a current place as my former self, living in the nostalgia of what was, and how I felt–not changing, not growing, not evolving. I don’t want the sepia-filtered version of the picture of our lives, especially while we’re still living it; I want color!

So, these things have pushed sobriety–both staying sober and appreciating being sober–out of my mind. Luckily, I am on autopilot when it comes to saying no to wine, and never crave it. But, I’d really love to truly be present again in my sobriety–and maybe simply writing about it more frequently will help.

On that note, I am going to sign off. It feels good to reconnect with all my readers, new and old. I am so glad you’re here!

Tags: moving on, nostalgia, not living in the past

Comments 8 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Change, Higher Power, Life, Moving, Recovery, Sobriety

Redefining yourself sober

30 Aug

11:40 am

I know, I know, it’s been a while. Seems that once we finally do make it through that whirlwind of sh*& called getting sober, and actually ARE sober, and actually have a ton of amazing and good and interesting things going on, to write about–we stop writing about it! I, for one, have always tended to write, to express myself, in general, only when I’m experiencing negative emotions. I always used to drink when I felt bad, to self-soothe, not necessarily to party or celebrate (sure, on the surface it was to party, but really it was to pass time, to avoid committing to spending time, to soothe my social anxiety in group settings, etc.). Anyway, I’m still here, and still have a lot to write about–being sober is challenging enough, but writing about daily life challenges without whining about being or getting sober is, well, one of the hardest things I’ve had to try to do!

Another thing that I’ve found a LOT harder than I would have thought before getting sober (I know who I am, pfft) is redefining myself. Man, this is hard. Everything from how I feel and how I express how I feel, to managing my emotions, to figuring out not only what I want to do, but if it’s OK to actually do what I want to do–all this stuff relates to figuring out how to be sober, how to LIVE sober. And, it’s a process. It’s been about 5 years since I got sober, and most of the time I’ve spent getting there. Now, I’m definitely here (sure, I have a twinge now and then of wanting my old self back, my old life, but it never lasts long and it almost doesn’t make sense to my brain anymore to feel this way), and I’m like, now what?

Of course, I’ve figured it out along the way, but it hasn’t been without angst. And, every day, I wake up wondering, now what? Not in the sense of, what am I going to do today? I have my freelance career (as it stands, I don’t write as much as I work for one place, doing one thing, getting paid once every week–woop!), and my life here, which I try to live to the fullest (walking dogs, meeting friends–err, investing in a social life is still a huge problem area for me–doing yoga, working out, eating out, traveling here and there, etc.). It’s just…there are all these other things that sort of don’t come naturally that I have to work on–and I often sincerely wonder if “normies” have to “work” on them, or if they just live them, and move on?

Some of these things include wondering what to do next, and how to make it happen; wondering if I should invest in a home, a piece of land, a business, or…a new career; learning how to not feel, in general, that the world is an abrasive, combative place toward me; managing my moods (which have been SERIOUSLY controlled for the better simply by going on the pill last year) such that I don’t let the negative feelings and thoughts set my course for the day and disturb not only my experience of the events but also my productivity… So many daily things that, well, maybe are new because you grow and change and that is life; or, maybe are new to me because while I was drinking, I was able to avoid dealing with them. I did what I “had” to do, or thought I should be doing, and then I downed myself in wine every night in order to not have to deal with the stress, or manage the pain, or confront the why and how of the stress and pain in the first place.

Exhale–it’s still my mantra these days. I realize that there is a higher brain, a higher power, and maybe I’ve sort of neglected the “getting sober” lessons that were so animated in my early sober days/years? I don’t think about getting or being sober, and I’m kind of starting to think that I need–not want–to put myself back there. Not to avoid picking up again–that’s unfortunately over, over–but to…I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, MOVE FORWARD IN MY SOBRIETY. I feel stuck, and it’s because I’m not dealing, or confronting. I’m being, and to be is great. However, I think I need more.

I think we’re definitely going to move this fall–it’s a big deal, a big change, one that I know we need to do and want to do, but that will bring a lot of bittersweetness (I know what mainland life is about, and I know what this life is about, and I think my soul likes this life better, but my spirit needs out of this place–you know?). I bring it up because I think once we do hit the road, I’m going to look into finding a counselor to work through some of this…confusion, I guess is the best word to describe it. I saw someone a few months into getting sober, and it helped, so maybe this will help me iron out some of those big folds in the landscape?

Hope all are well, and here’s to blogging more often! (Jeez!)

Tags: being sober, confused sober, how to live sober, learning how to live sober, living sober, plateau, redefining yourself sober

Comments 7 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Change, Choices, Higher Power, Life, Psychology, Random, Recovery, Sobriety

Back from another long journey

11 Aug

11:30 am

This summer (well, the past few years, actually) has been all about searching. Searching for that next place to call home, that next job, that next big adventure, that next challenge. Frankly, I do think it’s a part of getting sober, it’s a part of my “plateau’ing”, and it’s a part of my struggle right now with feeling stuck, staid, depressed, angry, whatever.

I am so tired. I am a writer, and realized long ago that I simply need (more) time and space to just methodically ponder shit. It’s just who I am, and how I function in the world. Yet, when you travel, I think you have to become a bit more spontaneous, let go of your routines, and embrace the lack of control that comes from this act. Which can be hard on people who are normally introverted (inside themselves rather than outside, in the big, bad world).

I spent oh, 2 or 3 weeks on my international volun-touring trip in June (What did I learn? That I am not young and that I could do what I did locally–something I have already learned, years ago when I took my first volun-touring trip); and then, my fiance and I just spent about 2 weeks literally driving from one end of the country to the other, I guess looking for our next home. For me, home is not necessarily anymore about place, so that makes it really, well, to use my fave expression right now, EFFING tiring. I am effing tired of looking. I know what I like, and where I feel good; those places, however, don’t work for me anymore because they’re too expensive, they don’t offer the quality of life that we’re used to here in the tropics (let me tell ya, everywhere on this planet feels dry as shit to me now if the humidity is under 70%), and they don’t afford a girl proximity to the natural world (which I’ve realized I NEED more than I want, as a soul seeker and a writer). Exhale, I keep telling myself. It will come.

We’re back now, and I’m back to writing and working. We’ll see where the road takes us, but at this very moment, I am happy for the stillness.

Anyway, just a short post to say that I’m back online, and really appreciated all your comments re: whether or not to come out. I think I will, eventually and soon, but not today.

And, do I feel like drinking? Never. Did the thought of “becoming a wine drinker again” come up on this trip or in the past few months? Yes. I don’t know what I would get out of it, and cannot even imagine having energy to get out of bed these days AND be a drinker again (let alone give up my hard-won sobriety and all that has come with it)–yet, I have thought about it when I’ve also thought about how bored, or staid, or frustrated I feel in my daily life sometimes. Like, I want to feel excited again about my daily work/life–and, what do you know, even after all this time, my brain still considers or equates wine with excitement. It’s a trick, I know, and it’s Wolfie, I know. But, it’s scary; about 10% scary.

How do I stop that type of thinking? Well, I’m really used to forcefully pulling my brain back onto the neutral track, if not the positive one, after 5 years of sobriety. But, I know I also have to work on finding joy again in the day-to-day, and exercising my right to just enjoy life. It doesn’t have to be hard or stressful; people are not out to get me, to put obstacles in my path. That is my default neural mode, and until I fully unpack these neuroses, my trick is to just accept and deflect–all the while remaining conscious of the fact that this is how the stress of life transitions makes itself known. This is that stress, and this is what it does to my brain. (Maybe it makes others eat more, or run more, or drink more; all those things, too, were and are my self expression of stress.)

I have to say, it REALLY helps to have a home in the tropics, where I get to work alone all day, though–haha. So, yeah, big changes ahead if we do finally leave this place as a couple (I left 2 years ago on my own for about 9 months).

Sorry for the brain dump, and glad to have you all in my court! HUGS.

Tags: life changes, life search, life transition, stress, stress of change, transition, travel is tiring, triggers

Comments 2 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Change, Coping mechanisms, Life, Moving, Psychology, Sobriety, Travel

Five years…and counting

15 Jun

3:37 pm

Five years ago yesterday, I got sober. And, I started this blog. And, my, I’ve come damn far from this first post (this is how I started the post):

I woke up today hung over. And it’s going on oh, about 48 hours or so since I had my “last” drink and I still feel like ass. My belly is swollen and my liver hurts, which, this morning makes it hard to fit into my interview clothes. My pants are too tight and my underwire bra is pressed so tightly against my aching liver that it makes me cry. So now I am crying and I’ve got less than 10 minutes to pull it together and all I can think is, Fuck, I wish to Jesus on the Cross that I hadn’t poured out the last third of that “last” bottle of red that I had stored in the fridge two nights ago when I binge drank.

And, five years later, my life has changed drastically. I can’t even begin to write about how different my life is–how different *I* am–it’s that different. And, I’ve written five years of blog posts covering all that awesome progress! Suffice it to say, I am never hungover, I have paid off my student loan debt, I have gotten engaged, I have become a “successful” freelance journalist; I have gone on trips, volunteered abroad, become a barista. All that, however, is the cosmetic byproduct of a deep, unwavering peace.

Yes, I feel negative emotions, and get confused about what direction to go in; but beyond and untouched by all that surface stuff is this, well, peace. The big stuff stays in place. I can think and plan and act coherently; I continue to work steadfastly toward my goals, even if I can only intuit what they might be in the long-term. I sometimes focus on the negative (especially lately), but beneath that external chatter is a universe-sized body of water called *possibility*–into which I can deep dive because I am sober. Only because and precisely because I am sober. I can even see a life–a world, actually–beyond me, and my past, and my sobriety; and boy, is it endless with possibility.

Exhale, is my mantra these days.

All that being said, I haven’t been blogging much, and I haven’t been feeling that excited by my sobriety these days. I’ve been re-reading my posts from years ago, and I’m left wondering, where have I gone? Where has that girl gone? That getting sober girl who was on freaking FIRE to be getting sober? I guess it’s simply that we all grow, change, evolve, move on. And, I can accept that, and I do. It’s just… I want some of that fire, and I want to know why it’s no longer infusing me!

Not to say that life isn’t full, and complicated, and grand–because and only because I got sober, and wrote this blog, and made a new way of living for myself. Life has become full, almost always a race to the finish. My partner and I are in a transitional phase, meaning, we want to move but we’re just not sure where–where to go, what will it lead to, how we’ll fare in a new place and a different life. We’ve been talking about it for years; I think we’re at the point that if we don’t make a change soon, we’re going to implode. Pull the trigger, I say!

I’m tired of waiting, of wanting another life! Yet, I also want to know what, exactly, I’m looking for, and why, exactly, this amazing life I’ve created here seems no longer enough. Maybe I’ve just outgrown it? Been there, done that. I mean, it’s possible! I’ve been living here for five years now. While I want to continue to write about sobriety–there’s so much to mine–most of the time I just want to forge ahead on my work, and keep getting shit done. And I do. I just wonder where all the excitement has gone.

Frankly, I think it might be related to taking the pill. I have never taken meds, and since I’ve been on these, I just feel…flat. I feel nothing. To the point where, I feel no “looking forward to” feeling, no “I can’t wait to do this” feeling. I don’t dream–like, literally, I have no dreams. It’s like, I can’t “see” my emotions, I can’t “see” my desire; it’s like, that part of my brain is off. I can’t see it; it’s dark in there. It makes it easy, I guess, to live on a day-to-day basis, because I have ZERO emotional ups and downs. Except, the only feeling I seem to have, that I can touch, taste, smell; is anger. And, that sucks.

Exhale. Maybe all this angst is circumstantial: maybe my corporate job has driven me insane because it feels SO irrelevant to me now, having been a journalist, having done freelance writing. I wouldn’t mind leaving the corporate work for good, and becoming a barista full-time again, you know? I can’t, though; after all this time, at 43 years old, I’m finally gaining some ground, financially. I can’t let this go.

I don’t know what the next step is, which is a good thing, in a way. Why? Because ANY next step is the right next step! So, I have decided to take a few weeks off and travel to a country I’ve never been, on a volunteer project I’ve never been a part of, alone. I am hoping it’ll jump-start me–take me out of myself, and my situation; help me to figure out what’s going on. Or, what the next steps might be. I leave next week and come back after the holiday in July.

My life is awesome, I have to say; which is why all this internal angst is confusing. How can I intellectually see how good I have it while also feel so…frustrated? In any case, I am sober, and that is 99% of my life, and that 99% is simply awesome. I would not trade the past five years of learning, and even this period of struggle, for anything. I wouldn’t trade it for the brother who has written me off, the friends I no longer feel connected to, the big city career that I probably won’t (and don’t want to) regain. I feel so blessed to have made it out alive! I feel so blessed to have been given the gift of having to work on myself, of being forced to change and grow and evolve.

Five years…and counting. I can’t wait to see what the next five will bring.

Tags: anger, contentment, five years sober, peace, soberversary, the pill, trying new things

Comments 36 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Change, Life, Milestones, Moods, Recovery, Sobriety

Dealing with negative emotions

22 Apr

2:02 pm

Even today, I get angry. Depressed. Sad. And, I think about drinking. I do. I don’t want to, and know that I never will–I’ve been there, done that–but, it’s still there, this DESIRE to soothe. It’s more like a whine, faint, in the distance, reminding me of the hot mess I was when I first got sober:

But THEY get to get away, to escape, to use their substance of choice–why can’t I?

I was thinking on my run today: it’s not that I am UNHAPPY–happiness is most certainly a choice. And, after years of forcing myself to find happiness in the corners of my early sober life; and more years of learning how to cultivate happiness as a choice, 100% of the time–well, I’ve realized that I can be happy without being content. I am not content, and frankly, I am not sure I ever will be. At 42 years old, I think I’m just beginning to try things that might actually make me feel contentment, which I suppose might be the opposite of things like accomplished, or having won the prize, of having earned the medal.

It reminds me of where I am right now in my job search: I have been contracting with the same company for almost two years, but they still haven’t hired me. Not only that, but I’ve interviewed for more than one full-time job with them, and each time, the interview process has consisted of meeting/being interviewed by 7, 8, 9 people! I’m wondering, are they simply trying to make me second-guess my abilities? Cuz, you know, of COURSE, I can do these jobs. It’s not rocket science. The drinker in me, though, craves their approval; wants to do it “right;” wants to win! In reality, for the most part, I so don’t WANT the job. What I want is them to want me, like me, hire me. I want to win. Even if that means that both during the interview process AND while I’m doing a job that I don’t really want to do; I am totally freaking DISCONTENT.

Ahh, life. Sobriety has allowed me to recognize the nuances to all this “character flaw” stuff, and well, the difference (in my mind, anyway) of being unhappy and being discontent. And, while I’ve wanted to drink lately trying to figure out just what is going to alleviate this lack of contentment (as a writer, I wonder if I am always going to feel like I haven’t done anything, or need to do something more, or different, or else), the five years of sobriety under my belt–and feeling this way so often back in the early days–has given me the tools to realize that drinking won’t solve anything. Won’t alleviate anything. Is not an escape, and is not a reward. No matter how many people I see drinking to reward or alleviate the stress of transition, or decision-making processes, it still reeks of bullshit. Drinking is bullshit. Do I want a thing, somewhere that I can go? Yes. Is it up to me to figure out where that so-called place is, that place of acceptance and happiness in the moment, for the moment, and of the moment? Yes.

We whine, we do. I do. Yet, that is allowed. And then, depending on how practiced you have gotten, you move on. You place those negative ideas and feelings into the “perspective” box, and you move on. I feel happy most of the time, and that’s what matters and what I try to continue to focus on. That and remembering how AWESOME-SAUCE it still is to be here, and not there (hungover on a Saturday afternoon)–being grateful, and cultivating happiness, in spite of this so-called discontentment, which is fleeting, and fickle.

Tags: anger, contentment, difference between being happy and content, discontent, discontentment, happiness, lack of contentment, negative emotions, unhappiness

Comments 9 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Change, Choices, Depression, Gratitude, Life, Moods, Psychology, Random, Recovery, Sobriety

I don’t think I’ll ever drink again, but…

28 Mar

10:23 pm

That doesn’t mean that I don’t feel angry, lost, overwhelmed. Bitter, resentful. Joyful, too; much joyful. And content. Though, I am realizing daily, almost on an hourly basis some days, that I have to cultivate contentment. I have to make sure I see that there is SO much to be grateful for; that my brain does not have my permission to hijack my mood, my peace, my sense of belonging in this strange sober world that I discovered/created for myself.

I was thinking about my slips here and there over the past 4+ years of continuous sobriety. I basically got sober in October 2012, drank once the following March (2013), then went over a year until the summer of 2014, when I think I had a beer one day in June, and then a few sips of wine and/or alcohol (maybe an accident, maybe to “test” my waters) at some point that summer; I had a horrendous drunk one night in October 2014, then…didn’t drink again until the following fall, of 2015, when I was away in my new location, working a big-girl job, and pining for “what was.” I think I drank a couple glasses a couple times, with the final, third attempt in January of 2016. That was really a dud–sandy and uneventful and sad. I had two small glasses (I think, something like that, very minor) and was TOTES hungover for the next day. LOL.

The point is, I haven’t looked back since January 2016. Not at all. I’ve realized that I have no interest to try, to test, to wonder. I think it’s because I did all those things–I tried, I tested, I wondered–and wine didn’t work. It never worked again. But, it’s not like I gave up trying, or, believing somehow someday wine would work again.

This time was different: I think (now that I’m actually taking some time to revisit how I felt in January of 2016 and the fact that I haven’t felt like that since) I just surrendered. Or, was taken up–like, lifted up. Like, my higher power–I actually like to think of my higher power as a higher me, a higher self, my best self, some evolved sense of myself as this great and good creature hovering over the pathetic, wimpering “real me” below, living out her day-to day–said, No. Let it go. There is no reason.

And, really, I haven’t thought about drinking since then. The past few months, even, I haven’t considered that drinking would help–and, the past few months have found me feeling quite angry. Like, all the bad feelings and habitual ego stuff is still right there, very much at the surface, as if I never did any work! Angry. So angry. So angry. At whom? It’s like, I don’t recognize myself some days. Except, I do; I see through the personality bugs and character flaws and negative thought loops to the real me, the me I liked best a few years ago, the one dancing on her self-styled pink cloud/bubble.

I’m not in a bubble anymore, and I admit, I do/can have a lot of negative thoughts and feelings these days. But, I’m working through them, and realizing that getting sober–close to five years ago–is just the beginning of this strange trip called sobriety. It doesn’t just keep getting better…without work and self reflection. However, the desire to drink, in all its entirety, does go away. No matter how angry or frustrated or trapped I feel these days–and, admittedly, I do a lot–I don’t even consider drinking as a solution. As something I would even want to do, regardless of its (in)ability to solve my problem or resolve my conflict.

And, holy eff, is that startling to realize. Like, I don’t think I’ll ever drink again. And, it’s not like this big revelation that I thought it would be. It’s more like, a foregone conclusion, one that I’ve been too busy and productive and angry and frustrated and in flux to notice!

Yet, sobriety, and all its work and progress and lessons and maddening ins and outs, continues. Is it just life? Um…I don’t know. I think those who have gotten sober have a newfound perspective on all this life stuff, I really do. Yes, this is life, and yes, I’m bitching about it here, on my long, but hopefully not lost blog. But…there’s so much nuance; life is reflected through the prism of sobriety and getting sober, such that we see all these different colors, maybe more colors than people who have never had to deal with all their shit (yet).

Random thoughts on a Tuesday night. Miss you all, and hope to start catching you up once I remember how to form this whirl of thoughts into words!

Tags: anger, life, living sober, never drink again

Comments 12 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Change, Choices, Life, Slip, Sobriety

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Drunky Drunk Girl

Who you are vs. who you want to be

Perchance to dream

Our bear passed on…

Is self-love radical?

Moving on

Redefining yourself sober

Back from another long journey

Five years…and counting

Dealing with negative emotions

I don’t think I’ll ever drink again, but…

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