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It starts with forgiving yourself

1:35 pm

So, as I was powering–yes, I believe I can use that word today!–up and down the hills here on a HOT and HUMID (af) jog, I started to think about how I got here, to being sober and being able to go jogging after a night of 3.5 hours horrible perimenopause sleep (there was some rage, too).

How did I get here? Simple: I forgave myself. Of course, it wasn’t simple or easy, and I am still working at it, but, that’s the gist of it!

In order for me to be here, now, jogging through this heat–giving myself this gift, not as punishment, but as reward–I had to forgive myself for last night, for my belief that somehow, I caused my insomnia; for getting angry; for all the negative feelings that insomnia leaves you grappling with, the next day. In order for me to be doing this good thing for my body, I had to respect myself, like myself, love myself enough to say, I forgive you and you deserve to be treated kindly.

I truly believe that getting sober–shit, getting through every single hangover–required first and foremost that I forgave myself; I forgave myself not only in spite of hating myself and feeling guilty because I didn’t believe I deserved to be forgiven and to have a better life, but also in spite of almost everyone else not forgiving me, too.

Self-forgiveness, forgiving oneself–it is an act of radical self-love. Getting sober starts with deciding to forgive yourself for the night before, the two or three weeks before, the months, years before. It is necessary, EVEN IF everyone else in your life believes that you don’t deserve forgiveness, thereby reinforcing your doubt and your guilt.

You are allowed to forgive yourself in order to move forward; you HAVE to forgive yourself in order to move forward. Moving forward involves the practical step of quitting drinking–of practicing not drinking when you really want to, because shit WILL go down and you are so tired of shit going down. Moving forward also requires something less tangible, which is the active step of loving yourself enough to say, It’s OK, I still believe in you, to say, I forgive you, and you get to try again today–you got this, and no one, not even YOU, can convince me that you don’t deserve it.

As I was running, I kept thinking that, so many people wouldn’t have forgiven me for the many nights, weeks, months, and years of my drinking; many still haven’t. But, *I* did, and I am glad I did–I believed, in spite of what my mind told (and tells) me, that I deserved it. It is right to forgive yourself, and it is right to love yourself! I wouldn’t be running up and down these hills, doing pretty good at it, I must say, if I didn’t believe I deserved to offer this exercise to my body, mind, and spirit (all of which really needed it today!).

On that note, I continue to prepare for my next interview, which is tomorrow. I had one last week, and I am now moving into what will hopefully be a series of interviews over next few weeks. A friend of mine is worried about finding a job in the time of Covid, and I have to admit, I could let it make me feel anxious, if I let it. I choose to not let it; what will be, will be.

One more thing: we took our doggie swimming the other day, and it totally helped her walking the next day. So, time to incorporate some water therapy into her regimen. Love my girl WAY TOO MUCH! Haha…

Tags: forgive yourself, love yourself, self-forgiveness, self-love

Comments 3 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Gratitude, Insomnia, Long-term sobriety, perimenopause, Psychology, Recovery, Running, Self-empowerment, Sobriety

Yesterday I picked up garbage

23 May

2:04 pm

Yep. Instead of doing anything else, I got so sick of seeing trash in our neighborhood, I went out (for the second time in a few weeks) and picked it up. From about 1 to 3:30 or 4, I picked up trash along the side of the road and in the bush (our loving expression for all the trees and green stuff that fills our hillsides and makes this place so green and tropical…in the wet season; right now, it’s really dry, quite ugly), and I filled five 13-gallon bags. Last time, I filled four bags!

It makes me so angry–what the eff is wrong with people here?, I think. Then, I have to admit to myself that it is like this everywhere in the world, more or less. Maybe not so much in less populated areas, or, “unicorn areas,” where everyone cares about the environment enough to not throw their trash out the car window in the first place; but, littering happens in the first world, it happens in the second world (where I live, I would call us second or maybe 2.5-world–haha), and it happens in the third world. (When I volunteered for a few months in a developing country a few years ago, we went to the beach one weekend and I saw, as I dunked my head under the water, a full LINE of trash floating along the sandy bottom, lapping against the shore).

It had to be done; I mean, sure, I felt dirty, disgusting, gross, and angry. Still, I had to do it–I walk these roads every day for pleasure, for exercise; if no one else is going to do it, I have to do it because I want to at least believe that I am living in a clean place (granted, there is still so much OTHER trash buried along the hillsides in the bush, I just can’t see it)! I feel like going to our Home Depot and buying a sign that says, No Dumping; I want to make my own sign that says, This is Not a Dump, Assholes–People Live Here, but, I have the feeling that’s probably not what I should do (haha).

I don’t know why people here litter; I can GUESS that it’s because they have not been taught not to litter. I think it really comes down to example: if your parents throw trash around, you will, too. If you aren’t taught to care for your environment, you won’t. Sometimes I think it’s an unconscious expression of self-loathing, as in, no one cares about us, so why should we care about them/the natural world? Partly it’s because there are, actually, a lack of garbage cans; an infrequent spread of dumpsters and compactors along the roads; and, frankly, I am not even sure if there are things like fines or citations if you’re caught being a litterbug here.

I don’t know; what I DO know is that, I just had to pick it up. And, once done, I wondered, was it even worth it? You can’t really tell that any trash has been picked up as you’re driving by; plus, people are just going to throw more trash around, and I’ll have to go out again in a week or month and pick up the endless plastic cups, Heineken bottles (rolls eyes; people here LOVE them some Heineken–haha), car parts (don’t even get me started on how irritated I get seeing random car parts, entire cars, um, household appliances…just thrown off the hillside into the bush!?)…

I do think it’s worth it, as is any attempt at improvement. I mean, it’s sort of like getting sober–no one notices the changes that are happening inside of you as much as you do. Maybe no one pays attention at all. But you know. And, it changes you, knowing that you are finally acting to change your life, that your actions are finally changing your life.

Anyway, I am glad I did it. There are regular beach cleanups here, but I haven’t done one in a long time. I figured, doing my ‘hood two times (for a total of nine bags) might make up for that…

Today will be a good day; it’s sunny, I am not hungover (ever-grateful), and in addition to going for a jog and doing a few tedious “paperwork”-type things, I am going to try to make pad thai from scratch for dinner. I just heard that restaurants here are opening to limited numbers of patrons next week, after the holiday, which is good news on multiple counts (my boo works in the industry, so it’ll be good to have things back up and running again, if only partially; and, while we love cooking at home, it’s getting old!). No playing with trash today, friends!

Our dog is resting peacefully in her spot in the bedroom. Every time I walk by her, I check to see if she’s still breathing–sad, but true. She’s hanging in there, but, she is definitely no longer living her best life; I had to force her to go outside to pee last night, but she could barely walk out there to do it. As usual, she had pooped on her bed this morning; so far, she’s been too tired to go outside today so that I can wash her off. Poor friend; there truly is no dignity in aging, as my boo said the other day.

This is starting to be a rambler of a post, so I will sign off. Have a wonder-full Saturday, all…

Tags: care for the environment, changes, cleanup, garbage, littering, making changes, picking up garbage, picking up trash, respect for the environment, self-improvement, trash

Comments 6 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Change, Gratitude, nature, Random, Recovery, Self-empowerment, Sobriety

Take a break, and celebrate yourself…

12 May

8:37 pm

Because, I hate to say this as it belies a certain degree of cynicism, no one else is going to do it for you!

I have had a really busy past six months, and a lot of the time, I’ve felt like I’ve been totally making it up as I go/feeling my way forward. My new job has been a total trip–new type of job, new amount of workload, new people and personalities to deal with, and on top if it all, a whole new realm of science and health to learn. Let’s also not forget that I’ve been sort of relearning how to write journalistically–since, well, honestly, I haven’t done so in years.

I have been dealing with the ups and downs of perimenopause, and frankly, I think if this is it, then I’m pretty lucky. I finally got through a bunch of tests that showed what I knew all along: my hormones are changing and I have one of two choices, either treat them with birth control or naturally, or don’t treat them and wait for them to ebb and flow (and they do, and they have; right now, while I am still experiencing my night heat/dry chills, it’s totally eased up/almost disappeared). I am taking the pill, and that comes with a host of side effects if your hormones are going up and down, which I’ve recently discovered (headaches, nausea, a slight feeling of being crazy/anxious thoughts). BUT, it sure beats the night heat, which, even if that comes and goes, I’d rather not experience at all. I will be 45 this year, and my earliest symptoms of perimenopause started when I was 39, so…hopefully I’ll be done soon! Haha. Bring it on!

You know, at my last appointment with my gynecologist, she was like, well, your eggs are old, you are definitely in perimenopause, and um, if you’re trying to use your own eggs to have kids, it’s not going to work; you’ll have to use an egg donor. And, I felt nothing. I felt no sadness, nothing. And, it was kind of glorious. I remember when I started this blog, in 2012, I was freaking OUT about should I/shouldn’t I have kids… And, to have it come and go, and to have my doctor straight up tell me, you are past the age, gurl; and to NOT feel anything negative? It just goes to show that everyone is different, and I’m glad I just trusted myself, who was telling me for years and years, it’s not you. It’s not your story, to have kids.

So, there you go. Those are the two things that have just been burning me out, in a way, as I’ve been trying to keep up with both. This weekend was the first time in six months that I actually felt relief, like I could take a break and rest. REST. And, I remembered how important I made taking a break, turning it off, taking a REST when I was getting sober–it was my key to staying sober for a longer term.

Rest–essential. Take a break–essential. Turn it off. Let it go. All essential.

And, while you’re finally resting, you are able to clearly see just how much work you’ve put in, and how much you’ve accomplished; and you can finally step back and say, wow, good job. You did it. You are DOING IT.

So, to all the mamas out there who are getting sober, and all the non-mamas out there who are getting sober: Rest, and know that you did it. You’re doing it. And you’re awesome. (No one is going to tell you that, especially as you forge your path of long-term sobriety; so it’s up to you to honor and congratulate yourself with love, treats, and rest–whenever and wherever and however often you need them.)

Tags: congratulate yourself, let it go, Long-term sobriety, love yourself, Mother's Day, rest, self-congratulations, self-love, take a break, treats

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Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Change, Choices, Long-term sobriety, perimenopause, Random, Recovery, Self-empowerment, Sobriety, Work

Where’d DDG go? I’m right here, Elliott

9 Mar

11:44 am

And like Elliott, it’s been so long since I checked in on him, he grew up into a man!

Hi, guys. WOW, I don’t think I’ve chased around this much in my life since, well, I worked a full-time job back in my cold, big-city days. And even then, I managed to ALSO live a double life, drinking away four, five, six hours every night. HOW on EARTH did I work, eat, work out, AND drink five hours every night–and still maintain a handful of friendships, an often-bordering-on-broken romantic relationship, and make phone calls to the family every Sunday night?

In case you haven’t been reading my oh-so-interesting posts about my struggle with what I’m just calling “hot flushes” (as opposed to hot flashes), let me quickly say: I have been having this “thing” that happens to me pretty much constantly, wherein, my skin feels very hot all over, but I also shiver. And I don’t sweat. And this lasts for hours, days, weeks, sometimes months at a time. I chalked it up to perimenopausal weirdness that I can’t do much about. However, when I went to a gynecologist, she was like, that doesn’t sound like hot flashes; and then, when I went to an endocrinologist, she was like, the symptoms you’re describing, I’ve only seen in ONE other patient in my entire career, and, your blood tests say that you’re body is hypothyroid but your symptoms are hyperthyroid (figures). So, there might be more going on here than I originally thought.

Anyway, this is all just to say, the way I’ve been dealing with this is by taking a hot/cold shower at night, which means, over about 20 to 30 minutes in the shower, I change the temperature of the water from hot to cold, eventually ending with cold when my skin can tolerate it; somehow, it like, “resets” my body’s interpretation of its temperature. SO WEIRD, I know.

As I was methodically going through my nighttime routine last night, I was like, huh, what would my nights be like now, if I was still drinking until 2 or 3 or 4 am? I mean, would I still be drinking? I would definitely not be taking care of myself the way I have to each and every night these days, just to be able to get to sleep; like, maybe I would just pass out and avoid feeling the body heat, avoid having to meditate myself down from feeling stressed about it, avoid having to take a series of deep breaths (I have what seems to be related irregular heartbeats, too–doh!)…? Would I just pass out and avoid it altogether? Probably not, which means, I’d somehow have to juggle it all.

Which, well, I wouldn’t be juggling it, and my life would be falling down…

And it just made me see how important my sobriety actually is right now, and how grateful I am to be ABLE to care for myself at night (and that doesn’t include forgetting about it all by passing out).

This year, 2019, has just been blowing me over–I will bend, but I will not break, one of my high school teachers used to quip. And, I guess that could sum up the past three months for me, being bowled over by the seeming-hurricane winds of my neverending to-do list! It’s all good, though, and I’m glad I’m making it through the days–and the nights.

Since the last time I blogged, I’ve become entrenched in my new job. I started it about three months ago, and I feel like I haven’t looked up from the page since then. I have to preface this by saying, it IS a nonprofit, and I DID have some inkling about the workload (large), but, I am constantly reminded that I gave up a job that was pretty cut-and-dry for something that is anything but that. I will say this: there are things I like about it, and things I don’t, and that’s where I’ll leave it.

There is one thing that stands out, and that is having to–gasp–speak in public at a work retreat the other week. If there is anything that causes me anguish, aside from nighttime body heat and insomnia, it’s gearing up to speak in front of a group. I may have talked about this before on my blog, but when I was in graduate school, I started having panic attacks related to drinking; and then, during one of my seminars, for which we had to give a lot of individual presentations, I suddenly froze up, my heart start hammering in my chest, and I became so anxious that I could barely speak. One of my generous classmates stared me down, and as we locked eyes, she was able to move me out of that place. From that point forward–that happened over a decade ago–I have not been able to escape feeling the same intense physical reaction to speaking in front of a group. Someone recently told me that it sounds like PTSD.

Well, at this work thing, I had to do just that–I have been successful at avoiding it, but really, you can’t avoid it for the rest of your life; there will be times when you have to get up in front of a group of people and talk. And, of course, all the same things started to happen when my name was called: yammering heart, whirling mind, the literal inability to breathe such that, I come across as either winded or stuttering when I am actually talking. But, because I had no choice, I started talking and just went through it. I apologized a few times, stumbled over my words, was breathless at least twice and had to stop and inhale and apologize again; BUT, I went through it, made it to the end, and by the end of those five minutes, I was at least still talking. And breathing.

It was good for me to see that I could get through it. No one is going to die, I thought. With that new knowledge, I realized, well, if I can get through it by just going through it to the end, sticking it out to the end; then, I should be able to apply that practice to my night heat–I just have to go through my routine, wait to cool down, and wait to fall asleep. I don’t know why, exactly, but it was just really empowering to see that I COULD get through speaking in public–it was painful, and I will avoid it, but I CAN do it, if I have to–the same way that every night since I started my new routine, I eventually DO cool down, and eventually do fall asleep.

Of course, you can apply this to sobriety! You CAN get through those nights of horrible cravings, those days of zero-dopamine lack-of-motivation, those months of want and lack and sadness about losing your “everything.” You can and will get through it if you just keep going. Just keep not drinking, no matter what and how you feel. You will make it through to the end. No one is going to die. You got this. (notes to self, literally, in my journal every day, to this day)

Tags: aging, anxiety speaking in public, fear of public speaking, hot flashes, hyperthyroid, hypothyroid, perimenopause, public speaking, thyroid problems

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Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Health, perimenopause, Psychology, PTSD, Random, Self-empowerment, Sobriety, Social Anxiety

Getting all Marie Kondo on this isht

17 Feb

1:03 pm

Just a quick post to say, we got our isht out of storage, the both of us. And just like that, my “life in Storage Wars” is over. After 9 ridiculous years, I finally and quite unceremoniously (my love actually cleared out my unit, and I closed out online, so I wasn’t even there) vacated my near-decade old room away from room. And, the past few weeks, I’ve been going through yet more boxes and bags of clothes, books, pictures, paperwork–tons of CDs, a “Let’s Go: Europe” book from 1993, an MCAT prep guide…all of which are about as valuable to me now as, well, a glass of red wine!

I have to admit, I’ve been feeling pretty damn happy and proud of all the things I’ve done (lived through), and excited about the future. I mostly let go of this past a long time ago, the one that was weighing me down with should’s and must-do’s, careers that I tried but was never meant for, relationships that ended up YES, teaching me things but also leaving deep psychic scars. But, I clang to it in some way; hence, a storage unit for 9 years of stuff dating back to 1993 (and earlier!).

It just feels great–mainly, I see now just how HAPPY and GRATEFUL I am to have the life I have now, to have the man I have now, to have the dog and the job I have now (I would not trade schlepping to an office every day for anything anymore, though, I sure had some cool clothes to do it in; I am perfectly content with the low-stress version of what I used to do, and honestly, secretly, I want to make it even MORE low-stress); super-grateful for the memories of 6 years on the island, a move without having made I would probably still in many ways be in that dark place that I was in for decades. Kind of like a few of my old friends, who still drink, who still do the same jobs, who still cling to that big city as “home”…when there is a whole, colorful (warm) world out there to explore.

I mean, I know our 20s and 30s are not easy, but the searching is of course, necessary; searching for what fits, and doing all sorts of things that just don’t make you happy. Some people move on quickly, or start doing what they really want almost immediately–others, like me, take years to stop trying to please people who are not ourselves; and frankly, we ALL take years to pay off that student loan debt that is holding us back.

Anyway, it just feels great. I cannot emphasize enough how ready I am to move on, to move forward, to simply clear out the past. To really, truly let it go so I can make room in my mind for, well, everything else, maybe even blank space. In this round of boxes, I’ve found so many items that I clung to for years, that I simply happily and gratefully acknowledged the person or experience’s role in my life, and then threw out. I think my other boxes, the ones from high school and college, were more difficult to pare down since a lot of that stuff is just stuff that you don’t want to get rid of! And you shouldn’t. But these boxes, the stuff from my recent past, well…

Don’t get me wrong, there were and are a lot of things that I want to keep–things like framed pictures of recent trips (well, dating back to the 2000s) that “spark joy” in that they remind me of my growth: who I was then, and who I became because of those times. And, they remind me less of the failed relationship or job of that era and more of the actual place, and the experience, and my particular love of the Getty in LA, or the Rodin in Paris–and so, I cherish the now-framed black-and-white photos that hang on my walls here, now, because I still love those places and they still remind me of me.

I don’t know if I believe in purging necessarily; but for some reason, right now, at this time in my life, I am SO ready to retire it all; to retire, in a way. I have been grinding away for years, and it’s not been all bad, and I wanted a lot of the writing gigs; but right now, I’m ready to put some of it behind me, and start on a new path–truly, one that redefines me, maybe away from writer, science writer, journalist, maybe just more toward creative writer. I didn’t dream of this as a kid; I dreamt of being a poet, a vet, and later, an anthropologist in Africa. I’ve dreamt of opening a coffee shop for decades, long before I actually started working as a barista. I have so many other dreams that have nothing to do with writing, and especially science writing, is what I’m saying; I drank for years to cope with the stress of this work, and with the stress of “should’ing” myself into it.

Lately, and this might sound weird (perimenopause is weird, and no one told me about that mid-40s awesomeness either), but at almost 45, I kind of feel ready to die. Haha. It sounds ridiculous, and I mean, ready to die to my old self, and be reborn into a new version of me, the one who I’ve been building and cultivating for years…but who still hasn’t been allowed her long day in the sun. As I went through my boxes, I found this tube of pink lipstick that dates back to 1994, when I was 20 and studying abroad in Paris. Yes, a 25-year-old tube of lipstick can be harder to trash than a drinking problem–this is long-term sobriety to me, this eventual letting go and evolution of self, of how we choose to see ourselves in our lives, of who we choose to be.

Sobriety continually gives us choices to be–the same, different, old, new, evolving. It’s up to us to do what is a scary and constant paring, cleansing, purging…with that elusive goal of sparking joy in our present moment.

The pictures I have hung DO spark joy, and I am relieved and so very happy about this. I was afraid they wouldn’t, that they would remind me of those times and make me feel nostalgic for my old self, my younger years, the people associated with those times who are no longer here, or in my life (What a waste, one might lament; what’s the point of any and all relationships?); yet, they didn’t. They don’t. They spark joy. I was afraid of my reaction, but you know what, I, too, have changed; I have evolved to prioritize joy over nostalgia and sadness. Maybe it’s just that so much time has passed, and I can only now appreciate the joy of those moments, the simple beauty of the imagery that made me snap the pictures in the first place. Only now can I relive the past and feel joy–not because I have forgotten the past, or gotten too old to remember; but because I can see it clearly now, and can find a healthy balance between past and present feeling. Maybe I am just ready to move on, to retire in a way, to let go of that past in order to make way for a wonderful most-recent past, a present for which I am grateful, and a future that I increasingly believe holds the best yet to come?

Tags: 20s are hard, 30s are hard, changing careers, cleansing, doing what you want, letting go of the past, moving on, purging, spark joy, the past

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Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Change, Choices, Gratitude, Life, Long-term sobriety, Past, Psychology, Random, Recovery, Relationships, Self-empowerment, 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

Is it enough to remain anonymous?

23 Jul

3:00 pm

I have been thinking a lot lately about this blog, my anonymity, and the truth of my sobriety: is it built on “lies” because I have remained for so long in the closet? Do I need to come out to be “fully” sober?

For me, the answer is moving toward:

I need to come out FOR my sobriety. I feel stalled, somehow. Stuck. I need to come out so that I can move forward in my sobriety. Here’s the thing (something I discovered after a stressful morning, and then, sort of weeping out of frustration, face-down on my yoga mat–I give up!, I wanted to scream): I “feel” like a fraud in most things. I feel like a fraud in that, I tell myself, I’m not “really” a writer, I’m not “really” a good person, I’m not “really” sober. I’m just pretending until I don’t have to anymore, until I can let my guard down and be my “true” self. I think we all can relate to this feeling, and maybe it’ll take me the course of my entire life to “fix,” or at least comes to terms with, whatever it is that made me this way.

However, this desire to come out is based more on a desire to…move forward. To fully commit to being sober. To be able to say, This is me, and these are the things I’ve gone through–take it or leave it. To be able to truly help others by, you know, being loud and proud. Part of the biggest threat to an individual’s sobriety is the shame and stigma surrounding the addiction and addictive behavior. Am I not perpetuating this stigma by refusing to put myself out there–primarily out of fear?

The answer, I believe in my heart (no offense to all the other anonymous sober bloggers out there), is yes. I mean, I am sort of terrified of revealing myself because I worry that not only might I lose people, I will lose jobs, respect in the workplace, my entire career. Is that necessarily a bad thing? I doubt it, but I’m not sure how it will all pan out.

Lately, I’ve been feeling like I need to get other people’s PERMISSION to come out–to reveal my identity to my fellow bloggers, and well, the rest of the world (i.e., all those friends, loved ones, family members, and coworkers who know bits and pieces about my sober story, but none, the full ordeal). In a fit of self-judgment the other day, I realized that, NO, I don’t need anyone’s permission to come out, to take my seat at the table, so to speak. I don’t need anyone to tell me how to do it. I just need to take a deep breath, realize that my fears of losing people are unfounded (i.e., either I’ve already lost them, or they weren’t worth keeping in the first place), and embrace the truth. My truth. To shine a light on my truth so that…I can fully let it go and move forward in my sobriety and sober life!

I feel like my sobriety has only partial integrity by remaining in the closet. I feel like I can’t keep being sober, fully, if I remain an anonymous blogger.

But, I’m not going to do it today. Today, I just wanted to let you know that I’m still here, still working away, still being grateful for both the ups and downs, and still coming to terms with this period of plateau. It’s all good. It really is.

Will coming out be liberating and not that big of a deal? Probably. Can I do it on my own time? Absolutely.

Tags: anonymity, anonymous, coming out, integrity, shame, shame addiction, sober blogger, stigma, stigma addiction, truth

Comments 23 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Recovery, Self-empowerment, Sobriety

Are you afraid to leave the place where you got sober?

12 Dec

1:15 pm

I’ve been wondering this lately, in a tangential sort of way. Like, I think about other stuff, and my thoughts end up at this question. Usually I’m thinking about how I feel bored with sobriety, in a general sense. Like, it’s just not pink clouds anymore, ever. *I’m* no longer a pink cloud–and I wonder, where have I gone? Sometimes, I do long for the “old” “just getting sober” me. The truth is, not only is being sober no longer enough, but I expect a lot LOT more from myself now. So, it all just feels like work–normal life, I guess.

I miss walking the hills, passing the tropical flowering brush, feeling literally buzzed by the fact that I am sober, that I get this–this life. These days, I still do very much appreciate all of it–maybe more so now, more fully–but I don’t feel that same rush of getting sober and all the feeling of newness and accomplishment and being newly, well, in love with myself again. I just feel…bored. Been here, done this. Time to move on.

And, move on, I have. I did. I went to the west coast last year, for oh, 8 months, and worked a “big girl” job again. (which, as you can probably guess, was pretty easy, and pretty low-key compared to freelancing) And, I survived everything I was afraid of, namely, will I not only be able to stay sober in a new place, in a new job, in a new lifestyle, but will I thrive?

I have to say, I guess I did both survive and thrive, even though I felt depressed most of the time. When I got home, I felt changed, much stronger, much more confident, able to interact with the “real world”–things that never would have been nurtured if I had stayed here, in my old, pink-cloud life. SO, that was good. And, it’s had me wondering ever since, how many people don’t leave where they got sober because they’re afraid they’ll lost their sobriety in exchange for possible big personal growth?

Are you afraid that leaving the sober life, patterns, and habits that you’ve developed where you are will put you at risk for relapse? Do you want to leave, but fear you can’t because you’re not sure how or if you can establish similar new, healthy coping skills somewhere else? I think I know quite a few people down here who stay for YEARS…and I wonder if it’s for that very reason.

I wasn’t particularly worried about relapsing when I went away, but I did fear that I would be more stressed, and more triggered, and have more cravings. I did at first, but I was NEVER, EVER at risk of a relapse. (And, these days, I don’t think I would even choose to spend money, drink liquid sugar, and feel like total ass the next day, if given the no-strings choice.) In fact, after the initial freakout (yup, there was one night–week, let’s say), things went back to where they were before I got sober, which is to say, I’m good at work. I always have been really (pathologically) good at doing well at work while living a (secretly) disastrous personal life.

Still, I had quite a bit of apprehension. I’m glad I got over it because I came back feeling very much motivated, strong, and confident. Not that I feel that way every day these days (I’ve been home for 8 months), but more or less, I really do. And, I wonder, how would it be if I lived out my fear, and stayed “stuck” here–I’m trying not to judge the folks here who have gotten sober and decided to just go with what works, mind you. For me–and we all know who I am–I have to experiment, and cannot live in fear, as fear is my biggest trigger to use, whether emotionally or actually physically. And, that leads me to ask another, even more general question about long-term sobriety: how much fear is acceptable to live with and in, in exchange for security in your sobriety? Do you–should you–work through your fears, all of them, gradually as the years wear on?

Tags: changing location as trigger, moving, moving as trigger, moving on

Comments 9 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Boredom, Change, Choices, Psychology, Recovery, Self-empowerment, Sobriety

Happy 2015!

10 Jan

11:29 am

I just wanted to check in quickly and say, happy new year to all!

Lately, I haven’t been blogging much, mainly because I’m really busy with my freelance writing business. I have to say, 2014 was a fantastic year, and I’m almost a little apprehensive: will 2015 live up to it? My “word” of the year is BUILD. Just continuing to build, and work, and reap the rewards of continued sobriety. There have been so many, and from the talks I’ve had with self and others, this year is looking to be pretty fruitful as well.

Last year I took something like five or six trips–it was a very active, confrontational year. Meaning, I went toward, and worked on, my demons, or, the things that I had to go back to. This year, that doesn’t have to be the case; I’ve circled the wagon and seen inside–not much going on that’s relevant to my present, daily life anymore.

This year, my boyfriend and I are already planning a handful of awesome trips, one of which will be another road trip through the southern part of the US–to see where we want to move to. The freelance writing, after much, much work, has finally started to pay off: not only am I writing almost constantly (because I work almost constantly), but I’m landing better-paying gigs. Hope that keeps up this year. It will keep up if I keep putting the work in, is one thing I’ve always known. You work, and it pays off. Eventually, somehow, somewhere.

Full steam ahead, continuation of the hard work that I put in last year–that’s all I can come up with for 2015. Sobriety is my cornerstone, but…not drinking doesn’t mean all that much, in the end, without accompanying work toward making my life what I want it to be. Meaning, I have a bottle of white in the fridge–haven’t even looked at it beyond using it to make risotto a couple times. BUT, have I felt tired and frustrated and unsure–and happy and joyful, and frankly, free? All the time, yes, yes, yes. Both, and neither, and in between. That’s life. It has nothing to do anymore, for me, with wine, white or red. Life is life; liquid that you put into your body is just that. I pick life to think about and do these days, not “sobriety.” Sobriety, thankfully, is done. It’s there. It’s my building block. But, that doesn’t mean I believe I have to be afraid of returning to the person who was guzzling bottles on a daily basis.

Which is a little bit why I haven’t blogged. But, mainly, it’s because I’ve been busy working and dreaming and planning for what’s to come, not what WAS. And, what isn’t. I guess I can open up some time, one day soon, to ruminate on what isn’t. Not today, though: I have writing to do (ugh), a beach to visit, some kind of kickass meal to make (I really like cooking now), dogs to walk, and “The Killing” to watch. 🙂

Here’s to a productive–and TRULY “happy, joyful, and free” new year. Happy, and joyful, and free is HOW YOU DEFINE IT. And, if you’re at that point, of being able to use those words, and set even just a little meaning to them; you’re well on your way to full, lasting recovery.

Tags: 2015, alcoholic, alcoholism, binge drinking, change, drinking, freelance writing, let go of the past, New Year, psychology, recovery, self-employment, sober, sobriety, the past is irrelevant, travel, wine, women, work, writing, you are not what you call yourself, you are not your past

Comments 10 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Change, Happiness, Health, Life, Moving, New Year, Psychology, Recovery, Self-employment, Self-empowerment, Sobriety, Travel, Work, Writing

No one else has to care about my sobriety

9 Nov

11:14 am

That’s pretty much the lesson I learned on my trip. And, I’m trying to basically ignore the nagging feeling that most if not all of my old friends–people who saw me at my worst, who drank with me and around me–acted as if either my problem wasn’t one/wasn’t that bad, or that even if it was, I didn’t deserve praise.

I don’t know. I don’t get it.

I am back, and having a great Sunday–I finally get to enjoy some down-time. Ahh…sweet breezes, warm weather, the sounds and scents all around. It feels wonderful to realize just how different my values and priorities are now. And, I have to say, it’s what helped me move forward–being forced to live outside my comfort zone, on multiple levels, and try something NEW–and the lack thereof that’s allowed some of my friends to remain stuck.

But, I digress. I don’t want to dwell too hardcore on the whole “my friends don’t seem to give a shit about my sobriety” thing. Which may or may not be a figment of my imagination. First of all, I haven’t been in great touch with any of them since swearing off the wine, and frankly, I don’t think they knew all that much about this whole journey because I didn’t divulge that much (though, to several I did, so…).

I just had this niggling feeling that they were either shocked that I was still sober/am sober at all. I just didn’t get it. They know me, and know my past, and each and every one of them knows specifically that I am, indeed, sober, and not just “not drinking.” None of them really congratulated me, which is OK, I’m used to that. They don’t need to. However, on two occasions, I had to basically interject about my sobriety because no one was asking anything. It’s a huge part of my life, the fulcrum on which everything else rests these days. So, I thought I needed to at least address it–in the context of how it’s made my life much, MUCH better. To one friend, I said, “Everything I have right now is because I am sober.” She was stunned, but got it. Melodramatic? I don’t think so.

I went out to a piano bar with one group of friends, and when the waiter came around, I ordered a San Pellegrino with lime (so delicious). My friends literally went quiet, staring at me in disbelief, as if to say, Well, I didn’t think you were SOBER sober. At a restaurant with another friend, we got to talking about not drinking because she was pregnant, and she goes, “So, you don’t drink AT ALL?”

It’s like, how many times do I have to tell you that I’m sober? And, these are close friends, people who know how bad things got. It’s why I felt like they were purposefully trying to bring me back to the ground…because of envy, because of fear, who knows.

After my trip, I honestly don’t know how much more I can interact with these three friends. It’s sad, in a way, because if they only knew the work and thought that I’ve put into my sobriety, maybe the two who seem stuck could learn from my experience! I felt like they were saying, I “hate” (not hate, but you know) you because you’re well and I’m not. It’s the exact same thing I get from my brother and his girlfriend. I refuse to forgive you: not only did you “get away” with being a drunk, but you get to be sober and happy and productive, too. It’s not fair.

Sometimes, it’s confusing to go “home again,” in terms of old friendships. I think I’ve come into my own to where, I don’t attract dysfunctional ones anymore? I must say, however, that my circle of friends where I live now is awesome: I can’t even count the number of times they’ve gone out of their way to welcome me in spite of the fact that I wasn’t drinking at parties; to offer me nonalcoholic beverages; to respect my choice to not imbibe and make me feel respected and proud, even.

I did wonder if my one friend was turned off by my being sober because she, as a doctor of psychology, is all about harm reduction. I have some new thoughts on harm reduction, and I’ll get to that later. For me, and I think for most of us who have crossed that line, ONE sip is too much. ONE sip activates Wolfie. And what we’re trying to accomplish in the end, is shut Wolfie up, not stop drinking per se.

Anyhoo, la la la. I am great, doing well, rocking the stories and hopefully, starting work as a part-time barista this week. All in all, though, I don’t need the barista work (at least for this month’s income)–but it could be fun. I got to think a lot about my three years in exile here–and how I could have done it differently (for another blog post). My trip back to the city allowed me to both connect with my old self AND let her go. And, though it was exhausting, it’s allowed me to go even further, to expand and grow even more. Oh, and that slip, or whatever it was? Totally allowed me to fully conceptualize never drinking again–drinking just doesn’t do anything but ruin the next day, it’s not how I roll anymore, and the benefits of sobriety are so mind-blowing in terms of moving forward in my life that…there is no place for wine, and that is OK. I can keep on being free. Sobriety is liberation from the old way you did shit; and it allows you a blank slate of mind, to finally try doing shit a NEW WAY.

Sobriety is banishing the “Wolfie thinking” and doing shit a NEW, DIFFERENT WAY. Because you’re free, you really are. And because you can–you are able.

Lots to do today, so I’ll sign off. More soon!

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, binge drinking, change, drinking, drinking buddies, dysfunctional relationship, freelance writing, let go of the past, letting go, my friends don't care if I'm sober, my friends suck, recovery, self-employment, slip, sober, sobriety, wine, women, writing

Comments 17 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Change, Drinking buddies, Friendships, Happiness, Recovery, Relationships, Self-employment, Self-empowerment, Slip, Sobriety, Work, Writing

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Drunky Drunk Girl

It starts with forgiving yourself

Yesterday I picked up garbage

Take a break, and celebrate yourself…

Getting all Marie Kondo on this isht

Is self-love radical?

Is it enough to remain anonymous?

Are you afraid to leave the place where you got sober?

Happy 2015!

No one else has to care about my sobriety

Hi, it’s DDG!

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