Happy (sober) Christmas Eve…

24 Dec

10:54 am

Christmas Eve. It used to be one of my favorite days. The past few years, it’s been alternately marred by shameful drunken escapades (usually alone, usually involving sketchy people and scenarios–it’s too bright a day to go into them right now; maybe later, to convince you, if need be, that when it comes to people like us, “Oh, I’ll have just one” means grievous damage to body and soul) and life-changing volunteer trips to [beautiful island]. I went for the first time over the Christmas holiday, the second time immediately after.

Sigh. I miss [said beautiful island]. I miss [cold east coast city]. I miss my mom–oof, now there’s another crazy drunken story (remind me to tell you about last year’s Christmas Eve and the year before, blacking out in front of my mother and uncle and effectively RUINING both their evenings).

But…wait. Wait a minute…

Ahaha. Hahahah. Oh, mind, you’re SO easy. Is that what I’m really missing? When I take a look around and see just how much I have here, and how much things are different for me, emotionally? No. Because if I stop there, thinking I’m missing those things and a hundred others that take me back to my immediate past, I could let my mind trick me into thinking I miss the “life” I had. If I dig just slightly deeper, past those superficial thoughts (the kind that might have led me to that first glass of red a few years ago), I find that I’m not really missing those things, that “life.”

Sure, I miss some elements of my old life; of course, I might be waxing nostalgic; it’s possible that I’m feeling uncertain (Have I given up my independence to my detriment? Will I ever get back to [said beautiful island]?), but I’m definitely not MISSING anything. I have so much more than I’ve ever had, and that’s in addition to this cosmetic life of blue ocean, dogs, coffee and morning walks, perpetual sun (well, unless it rains), new friends, a “new” relationship where I feel safe and at home, familial and friendly ties that have either been cut, more or less, or strengthened–this is the absolute opposite of uncertainty. Tricky, feelings.

So, what’s going on? I think I simply miss the drama. I have both certainty and uncertainty now; I’ve achieved those in my time here on island (maybe it’s been my “rehab”), in my seeking out change, in my plotting a semi-freelance business, in my continual consideration of applying for another master’s (in public health) degree, in my deciding what ties to further bind and which to let go. I have those. What I don’t have is drama, and I guess if you get used to something, good or bad, for SO freaking long, you actually miss it. Not in a heartbroken sort of way, but along the same lines; you don’t know what to do without it! So, your emotional reaction is to feel longing which may be misinterpreted–it is by me, often, if I’m lazy about it–as uncertainty, missing something.

It’s a trick of the mind, though. My solution? Move forward. Do it now! Make your coffee, wash your dishes, go for that run or swim or whatever gets your energy up, make your to-do list and start doing it. Embrace the moment, the new, the now, the whatever HUGE, SOLID rock (i.e., YOUR SOBER SELF) is staring you in the face. I think it’s helpful to feel nostalgic…for a minute. Don’t let it trick you, though, and don’t let it make you think that your “life” was better; it wasn’t. You might not laugh as loud (or even want to laugh) or have sparkly conversations; your creativity might be (temporarily) compromised, and you might find yourself feeling staid or stuck. However, based on my short experience, all these things are actually going to end up serving you better–a hundred times over–than continuing to drink or use or depend on an outside substance to “make life OK.”

Sure, you can look back in your life, but I think sobriety allows you the certainty–even though you may be feeling otherwise–of KNOWING that you’re on the right path, that you’ve made the right moves, and that there is nothing to fear, regret, or want to do over! There’s something about living while sober that allows you freedom from doubt. Sure, you can change the road you’re on–you might want or need to–but, you never have to look back and wonder if you missed a turn, crashed into another car, or left skid marks on someone’s driveway.

On that note, I’m going to get myself outside to enjoy some of this pre-noon sun with a run and/or swim. Later, I think we’re heading to a friend’s get-together, then I have to come home and file a re-do on the “practice” quiche I made last night. Tomorrow, we’re going to meet some friends for brunch and then hit the beach–where else? 😉

Merry Christmas to all my sober friends out there–you’re amazing!

Being sober and being drunk have one thing in common

21 Dec

2:03 am

Life.

Lately I’ve been getting the sense that life isn’t that much different sober. I mean, I don’t have to deal with being ill and all the remorse and self-loathing and nonsense that comes with drinking and hangovers, sure. That’s definitely different. But, now that I’m passed the withdrawal stage(s), now that I’m moving beyond–over, I’d say–the cravings; I feel like Life (with a capital L) is still the same.

It’s hard to put my finger on it, but I don’t feel all that much different sober, personally. I’m still a hard worker, when I want to be. I’m still goal-oriented. I still like running, and animals, and music, and writing, and traveling…and all the other million things in this world that make me “me.” I’m just not obsessed with drinking at the end of my days! I’m happier, in general, sure, but it’s not like life is SO much better, or SO much different. I can see more clearly, yes, and my moods have improved. I can rely on my plans, mainly because I know that I’ll wake up in the morning and be able to follow through–yet, I would try to follow through anyway, it was just a billion times harder with a raging hangover. Maybe I’m just used to not drinking now, and all that comes with it.

I’m coasting. YIKES. Me? I keep waiting for the wolf to pounce, for the desire to drink to roar up out of the hole I buried it in; for the blood-sucking vampire to emerge, in full form, from the grave. I keep waiting, checking over my shoulder every few days to see if it’s following me, the wolf or the vampire. (Where art thou, Sparkle-toothed Unicorn?) I’m not sure I’m out of the woods. Truth be told, I know I’m not.

See, if I let my guard down and open a bottle of red, I’d down the whole thing, I’m sure. And then, I’d head off in search of another, I know. Sigh. How can I seem so confident and then realize, by the same token, that I’m still beholden to this compulsion? In other words, I can say all I want about how “good” I feel being sober, but I’d probably get drunk if I could. And, even more maddening, it wasn’t ALWAYS like this. There were days, let’s say when I was 28, 29, 30 years old (just 8 years ago), when I NEVER could have imagined that this obsession–this desire to down oceans of wine instead of one or two glasses–would have such a hold on me. I don’t remember thinking about drinking back then, outside of when I was actually drinking.

Anyway… Today marks 10 WEEKS, or 70 days! Wow. It’s the longest I’ve gone. I never tried to not drink, and over the past 10 years, I should have–I really should have. (It takes what it takes, as they say in AA.) The closest I came was 60 days in August, and now I’ve gone past that by 10. I’m looking ahead toward 90, but I’m not expecting it to drop a pot of gold on my head or anything; life is life, death is death, by turns glorious and surreal.

(I do wonder, though, what I’d be like if I was holding down a “real” job (read: office, deadlines, bitchy editor), or if I was living alone in [cold east coast city]. I’ve constructed a life here that’s pretty temptation-less, and so far, somewhat contained. When the time comes, I’ll deal, right? Right. Let go and let God. ;))

Cruising along toward 10 weeks…

18 Dec

8:44 pm

And, all is well. No real cravings. My only romantic thoughts of drinking have been fleeting, lasting only long enough for me to remember my LAST SHITE DRUNK. Y’know, I feel like the further I get from that day, the MORE I remember how horrible it was, how horrible I felt; the more vivid the details of that day become. Healthy fear, indeed.

I’ve cut my AA meetings down a LOT, maybe about once a week. It’s all I can stomach. I just don’t get it, I suppose. I mean, the longer I remain sober, the more I start to see how emotionally invasive I was being with people (as in, there are a lot of things most people don’t have a right to know about me and I gave it away while drunk, even–and especially–when they didn’t want or appreciate it), how unreliable and inaccessible I was. Sure, I was “selfish, egotistical, and self-righteous,” to quote what some angry woman used at last night’s meeting to describe herself, as an alcoholic. I guess the difference between me and her is, I don’t believe I have to continue to believe that I am selfish, egotistical, and self-righteous. I can improve. I can solve my problem. And, I can MOVE ON.

In fact, what I’m coming to see more clearly the longer I’m sober is that it was the drink that was digging me deeper into these negative character traits. Like, let’s say I’m a 3 out of 10 on the selfish scale when I’m my normal, sober self. When I started my drinking career, it put me at a 4. The more I drank–and became addicted to using–the more selfish I became, eventually probably putting me at a 9 or 10. I don’t think my selfishness necessarily led me to drink; however, I KNOW FOR A FACT that my drinking caused me to become more selfish, among other gross flaws.

What I’m trying to say is, I believe in rehabilitation. I really do. I see it happening; I see the nature of my relationship to wine changing. Does that mean I want to drink? No. The opposite. Does that mean I’m going to go out and get drunk at the first sign of feeling down, or angry, or frustrated? Of course, not. I don’t believe anything external to myself has somehow given me my new and improved coping mechanisms; I’ve labored for them! I’ve trained my mind to react differently–by quitting drinking and living through wanting to drink and not drinking, day in and day out–and somehow, my behavioral changes are reinforcing my mind/feelings/gut reactions. It’s been a lot of work, but I feel like I can finally begin to rely on my mind/self to automatically make the right choice, by going down that path and visualizing the repercussions of getting drunk.

Can I take it or leave it? Honestly, no. I KNOW that if I drink one glass of red, I’ll want another. And I’ll have it. Or, at the very least, I’ll WANT a second, and I don’t want to want anymore! I don’t want the buzz anymore either. The same actually goes for caffeine–I find being too “high” irritating, tiring. I mean, I’d MUCH rather feel flat all day, get some good work done, and skip feeling both high and low. I just want smooth road, consistent mood, predictable output. I LIKE “life on life’s terms,” AA people; it’s not that “hard out there.” I get down, everyone does. I think of death day in and day out. Who doesn’t? I trip and hurt and get lost. We all do. I lie;I don’t call people back; I plan and scheme and hope that I can get what I think might make me content. Does that make me a bad person, or simply a person?

Anyway, I like where I’m at. I feel like I’m separating from my obsession, like the skin is being shed. I’m getting my strength back. I’m healing. I’ll go to meetings when it suits me, and I’ll read the Big Book (I identify with what Bill W. and Dr. Bob were trying to say), and I’ll try to reach out to the few friends I’ve made at meetings, but, really, all I HAVE to do is not drink.

Another mass shooting. What is wrong with this picture?

15 Dec

12:15 pm

Yeah, it’s a little fuzzy, n’est-ce pas?

I won’t ramble for long, but here’s my take.

Here, in “USA, Inc.”, we have issues. We glorify violence, and honor competition. We promote rampant consumerism. This leads to alienation and isolation, anxiety and depression, to name JUST A FEW. It sort of makes you want to drink. Or, shoot people. I’m not being in any way ironic.

I have NO idea (mainly because the mainstream media chooses not to delve into the mental health issue since it makes a less compelling story than, let’s say, “evil-doings,” but I digress) what was going on inside the head of the shooter, but let me tell you something: there was a point–more than one, honestly–during my middle and high school years that were, actually, low enough to make me contemplate killing of beings, namely myself. The self-loathing and anger that resulted from my feeling ostracized/ridiculed at school for being a good student; for being from a family who weren’t, to be frank, hicks; for simply being creative/artistic (let’s not even go into sexual preferences and/or orientation)–it led me to binge eat and then, binge drink. I couldn’t deal, and most of the time, I didn’t know HOW to deal aside from writing and dancing my emotions out. Unfortunately, I was too inhibited to dance in front of others. Fortunately, I clung to my belief in my grades as my ticket out, as well as my writing–my life raft.

I don’t know what’s going on, really, with today’s kids, but by the time I got to my junior year of college, I had already gone through several major episodes of depression, been through the emotional mindfuck that is bulimia, and likely harbored some serious sociopathic leanings that never materialized, due to simply internalizing my hatred for the people who hated me (or so I thought). I was SO overwhelmed by a sense of “there is something seriously wrong with this place” that I HAD to escape. And I did, to France. Anything to get me away from the billboards, the commercials, the emptiness I felt at having everything and having nothing (and I came from a lower middle class family!). I felt suffocated by what I still see to be the ills of our society, which have NOTHING, really, to do with the “freedom” to own guns (there’s a great article in The New Yorker on the history of the first amendment’s “right to bear arms” clause):

1. Consumerism. The idea that things, instead of experiences, people, and places, will make you happy and/or content; that happiness and contentment, like EVERYTHING worth having, can be had by anything but hard work–attained over a period of years, if not an entire lifetime.
2. Glorification of violence. We can see it in everything from our movies to our wars, this “we’re-gonna-kick-your-head-in-cuz-we-can” mentality. (When I volunteered clearing rubble in [beautiful island] after the [natural disaster], the Brits and Aussies nicknamed the heaviest sledgehammer “‘Merica” because it could “smash a lot of shit and leave a mess behind.”)
3. Glorification of competition, egotism, greed, etc. Why aren’t more “feminine” ideologies instilled in us throughout our lives, like cooperation, conciliation, nonviolent conflict resolution? I guess I’m generalizing here, but how many of you would argue against the fact that most (all?) of these mass shootings have been perpetrated my men, and wars are declared mainly (exclusively?) by male leaders?

I wish it was different, but when I left “USA, Inc.” in 1994 for Tours and then Paris, France, I figuratively never looked back. Now, I’m living in [beautiful island], which I might consider a second-world country but would certainly agree that it’s NOT the mainland–and I feel like I can breathe, like I might never return to “that place.”

Anyhoo…how does this pertain to drinking? Well, all I can say is, I’ve never experienced this kind of grief, so I have no idea what I would do. BUT, I hope that I would not pick up. I mean, drinking almost seems pointless in situations like this; which, in a sense, is a testament to its futility in the face of confronting the things life throws our way.

I wish peace to all the families involved in this shiteous crime. That is all.

On homemade icing, lunch dates, and avocado trees

13 Dec

11:40 pm

What do any of these have to do with drinking, say you?

NOTHING! And, finally. FI-NA-LLY.

Yup, I’ve been thinking about drinking for so damn long, and thinking about not drinking for even longer–and then subjecting y’all to it for almost as long–that it feels like such a reprieve to finally be moving along. Getting on with things. Having nothing more to say about it, at least at this very moment. (Oh, sure, I have plenty more to say about drinking, but today, at 9 weeks sober, I’m going to let it go for the night!)

Homemade icing, lunch date, avocado tree. Also, fostering a dog (well, she used to belong to our neighbor, but she left island and decided to ditch her dog; we picked her up today and brought her home). And, getting a call-back on a possible job down here, in a field that I’ve been trying/dying to get into for many years (not journalism-related, and I’ll go into deets/keep you posted if anything transpires). Yeah, all these things have happened in my life recently. And, while it’s not directly due to my having quit drinking, all of what is transpiring is definitely a result of that choice. It’s like, as the road continues after the fork, I’m coming up on an oasis. I get to see the awesome trees and cool clouds and interesting shrubs along the side as I pass. I get to notice these things, appreciate them, make them a part of my life and my memory. I choose to. Instead of putting all my energy into living life to drink, I’m now free up to live my life to…live.

Homemade icing: I made buttercream frosting for two cakes I recently baked. OMG yum. How have I never made frosting from scratch before? There’s really nothing quite as exciting (the word “gleeful” comes to mind) as a big old electric mixer. AND, butter plus powered sugar = hello, what’s not to like? My raging sweet tooth continues to have me hoovering up every sweet and carb in sight, but at least I’ve got my swimming to burn off the calories, if I, um, actually get up and go in the mornings. (Tap, tap, tap, WHEN is my boyfriend getting home? There’s a freshly frosted cake in the fridge, waiting to be ceremoniously cut and devoured! Hmm… Would it be so bad if I just sliced into it and snarfed down a corner piece?)

Lunch date: I finally took the initiative and made a lunch date with a new AA friend for tomorrow. It’s not that I haven’t gone out, or shared a meal, or invited people to do stuff with me since I’ve been here–wait, haven’t I? I don’t think I’ve gone out in search of my own friends and then actually invited one or all of them out, actually, since I’ve been here. Sigh. It’s hard starting over, but even harder (I’m finding) as a sober person who, until quite recently, didn’t really see the point of hanging out without wine involved. Sad, but true. Since getting sober, I can count on ONE hand the number of times I’ve gone out at night. Why bother? Like, I’d rather stay home than go out sober. In fact, I’ve often wondered if I’ll EVER go out again. I mean, what, exactly, is the point of going out if you can’t drink? That mentality is changing, mainly out of necessity. I can’t not go out forever!? I NEED and want a social life. And, hello? There are many reasons to go out and meet people that have nothing to do with my selfish desire to get shitfaced!

The incentive to “have fun” is gone, in a way. Interactions have to be sober, and based on a genuine desire to get to know someone. I mean, I like this woman, but let’s face it, I think we’d both LOVE to grab a glass of wine at some beach bar instead of guzzling coffee at high noon. Plus, lately, I’ve been digging hanging out with myself–getting to know Drunky Drunk Girl–a lot more than with others. Anyway, I’m meeting my friend tomorrow for lunch, and well, that’s a big step for me, I suppose.

Avocado tree: The other day, I finally scooped out the flesh of a HUGE, overripe avocado straight from an island tree (it was a gift from our landlady)! Then I was like, I wonder if I can plant this and grow a tree? I was going to simply plop it into a big potter and cover it with dirt, but alas, I smartly Google’d “how to grow an avocado tree” and lo and behold, there’s a method to getting the pit to sprout BEFORE you put it into soil! So, outside on a table sits what looks like an alien implement, or a weapon: three kabob skewer sticks are jutting out of the sides of the pit, and being used to balance the thing on the rim of a glass. The bottom half of the pit has to remain submerged until it sprouts (3-6 weeks!). It looks sort of grotesque–all in the name of immortality.

Yes, immortality. Three to six weeks from now, I’ll be well on my way to immortality, people. Maybe this tired sack of sober bones won’t live on, but someone will know I was here by the wonderful avocado tree growing in the backyard!

What comes after 60? 61.

12 Dec

1:42 am

Yup. 61. And, there’ve been the usual ups and downs the past few days, the past few hours. I cannot lie: it is frustrating to me to still be dealing with sugar cravings and moodiness. Gritting teeth and ignoring it.

I’m tired–and irritable–tonight, but I just wanted to say that my 60-day “soberversary” came and went with me hitting an AA meeting and then meeting up for dinner (and wine, for her) with an old roommate and friend from [cold east coast city]. We used to drink a LOT of wine together, but looking back, I know I always drank harder than she did.

It was great to catch up, OK to be drinking Diet Coke while she was doing wine. I mean, I could see myself feeling more deprived than usual if I had the opportunity to hang out with her more frequently. I could see myself wanting to drink more. At dinner last night, I had very little desire to imbibe. Tonight, however, after a day of working in front of my computer, no exercise, and rainy weather (read: cooped up and feeling restless), I wanted to drink at our dinner party. Oh, well, the sheer amazeballs-ness of the place where she’s staying–a four-bedroom, post-colonial mansion on [beautiful island]–made up for it with welcome distraction!

I feel down right now, and I’m not sure why: every morning, and every evening, I feel more down than up. I feel grumpy, frustrated with my progress on work/writing/?; just down. Even though I had a GREAT time with my friend, and felt fine in my skin, having good sober conversations and even better food. I don’t know, I don’t get it. Time to Turn It Off and sleep.

Did someone say it gets easier after 60 days?

60 days of calm, smooth, grateful waters

10 Dec

2:05 am

60 days sober as of today. AGAIN. YAYs, though, to me, for getting here again, living real life along the way, and not really struggling with the cravings as much as I did (they were horrendous, I cannot lie) the first time around this summer. And, yays in that I’ve never gone longer than 60 days and I’m looking forward to seeing what’s lying in wait on the flipside!

And, this time around, there’s nothing that’s going to turn my car back down Drinking Drive. I feel strong, and easy in my sober skin–still hard for me to grasp let alone believe (I’m waiting any day now to feel crawl-y again, but that seems to have disappeared). I don’t want to drink, really; I guess I am healing. Much more than that, though, I don’t want the nonsense, the illness, the weight gain, the remorse and guilt and sense of defeat that comes with drinking. Fuck that! All for a pretty bottle of grape water? Silliness. (Yeah, you should have talked to me when I was walking around [cold west coast city] at midnight in the fog-rain, feeling like the only thing between me and a bottle of wine was time (when the wine stores closed) and staying in literal motion.)

These next few weeks will be busy with work, friends, new friends (I’m trying to reach out more; it’s not easy to want to do that, especially anticipating being sober in social situations), AA meetings, and hopefully, a Christmas tree! I don’t think I’ll have time to drink, thankfully, so no time to think about drinking either.

A random thought: As I was reading the Big Book the other night, I came across a part that was talking about the 5th step, admitting your “drinking shit” to another human being. For all this time, I thought that you had to admit your shit to your sponsor, and to your sponsor ONLY. Um, no! The Big Book says you can do this to/with “another human being.” That could be anyone, right? Yes! And, I’ve done that. I have, to more than one person, actually; which is why AA bothers me so much, because I think, Wait, what? Do I have to go through this again? Really? AGAIN? Maybe that’s why I don’t feel that taken with or beholden to the steps or AA.

Another thought: Is grateful the opposite of envious? As I was walking home from a run/walk the other day, I was thinking about drinking–when the chance comes up at parties or gatherings, and how that makes me feel NOW versus how that made me feel before I quit. Before, my entire experience would have been clouded by “I want what I don’t have” or “I want what they’re having.” Now, I can look at peeps getting drunk on the beach, at a party, and I can see the progression from fake hilarity to fake grandiosity to fake dejection, and I am able to think, “I don’t want what they have” and know it–feel it–to be true. I am content with what I have, which is calmness, a clear head, a genuine sense of time and place, a real (albeit, not as gregarious) smile or laugh. I am, in fact, not envious; I am grateful. I am grateful for WHAT I HAVE, in my head and heart and hand (soda, water, iced tea). I am grateful for this change of mentality, most of all. I really was sort of living in a prison of the mind; a prison of envy, of wanting what I didn’t have, which was to be drunk.

Am I grateful that I can see the clouds and the blue sky but not understand them? Hmm… No. Not yet anyway. 😉

8 weeks came and went and…no time for drinkin’!

7 Dec

2:33 pm

Of course, the thought has crossed my mind more than a few times–I have a friend in town who used to be a crazy-ass drinkin’ buddy (we got into a LOT of trouble/troubles together)–but do I have to acknowledge it as anything more than an errant bug in my program? NOPE.

I’m keeping busy and truly enjoying my work (for once), my free time (swimming is a FUN way to exercise, and what do you know, the more fun it is the more I want to do it), and planning my future work and free time. I can go to bed and look forward to waking up and just continuing where I left off. I can plan my days and the work I will do, and know that there won’t be any snags, physical or mental or emotional–alcohol is no longer in my way!

I hate to say this, but I will anyway: I almost feel in control of this thing called “my drinking problem.” Does that mean I’m going to drink? No. Does that mean I have to be extra-vigilant? Not really. All I have to do is not drink. And, the best part is, the sense of control comes from my continued work at thinking myself out of drinking, which seems to have changed things up there because it really is getting easier not only to say no, but also to not want to drink in the first place. I feel like I can (much?) more easily resist my cravings because I know (from experience) that drinking will be exhausting, likely not that much fun, and will ruin the next day. The consequences don’t necessarily have to be major; even minor ones seem to me NOW to be majorly sucky, so why disrupt my flow?

I’ve been to only one meeting this week, and let me tell you, it feels GREAT. Great to be away from AA, to be away from AA people, to be away from the AA mentality. I dislike the “once a drunk, always a drunk” mentality; it bogs me down and seems to me to detract, actually, from my success/progress. Too much AA is well, too much AA. In fact, I find AA depressing; I almost feel LESS empowered, worse about myself, and like, I’ll always have this problem. I don’t know about you, but my question has always and will always be: don’t you want to SOLVE the problem and move on? Can’t you? Can’t you leave it behind, officially stop dwelling? (Maybe once I do the steps and get to #12, it’ll all make sense…) I think it’s AA’s trick to keep you there, which purposely contributes to your fear of drinking and therefore, to your sustained sobriety. For me, there’s something about fearing drinking and fearing my “drinking problem,” not to mention having a perpetual problem that just feels…wrong–eh, two or three meetings a week is enough AA for now.

Anyway, happy Friday to all!

Am I punishing myself by staying sober?

6 Dec

1:21 am

Uh, talk about a heavy question. Then again, AA is heavy, and that’s where I heard someone pose this question recently in response to a death in her immediate circle.

Hmm…

Yes, in a sense, you are punishing yourself. You don’t get to obliviate, and that sucks. It’s a choice to live through the pain, or at least not circumvent it at will. However, in the grand scheme of things, you and us both know that you aren’t. Learning to cope with death–with pain and with grief–is necessary to live. Avoiding moving through it to the other side is escapism, not reward. Sobriety is the reward, as without it, you just keep going back to square one; you keep yourself in the pain, instead of moving past it. You cry, you drink, you cry because you drank. You wake up and wonder why the pain is still there. That sounds like punishment to me! (Easier said than done, especially when I’m not the one grieving a death, *especially* while sober.)

My first experience with grief came after the [beautiful island] [natural disaster]. I had times there–amazing, life-changing times. I had friends there, and some of those friends were crushed to death. After the [natural disaster], I had horrible sadness, confusion, and bouts of frantic anxiety–usually at night, in my bed. What would happen to me when I died? Would I float off into endless black nothingness? How could life be considered so precious when it was made of such a frail mold? If it could be taken so easily, how could (can) it really be so valuable? I couldn’t fall asleep at night, and would sometimes wake with feelings of being smothered.

I got through it, and for better or for worse, I don’t really think of death as bad anymore. Sure, it freaks me out, but death is. Death just is. I will die; the question is, will I accept this and then, how will I live my life? As a friend told me years ago, when I was in my early 20s and feeling bogged down by my first-world choices to the point of being depressed about life: Good thing it’s short, eh? Right, thanks.

In other words, drinking stalls your process and wastes your time. And, considering how few moments we have here, and how difficult it can be to learn to grasp and cherish them while sober…even if you want to drink, can you really, truly afford to? Life is short, and learning its lessons takes time. Why not start now, end quicker, and get out of class while the sun is still shining?

Going on 8 weeks tomorrow, and then (my second time around) 60 days this coming Monday! And, I’m NOT stopping this train. Drinking is simply not in my cards these days; sure, I’d like to, but when I re-think it, I don’t want to waste the hours drinking and being hung over. I have better things to do, things that provide me with much longer-term and substantial buzz than wine. Plus, I know that drinking wine after this long of being sober–I fell off ye olde wagon, remember?–will not feel good; the buzz’ll feel weird, and I likely won’t have a good time, mentally (static brain) and emotionally (downs for the first two glasses, blunted ups for however long it’ll take me to black out, which won’t be more than 2-4 more glasses). It’s not worth my valuable time anymore. Go, me.

(Still, wouldn’t it be nice…NO! Down, wolf, down.) 😉

Oh, AA… Don’t make me hurt you!

2 Dec

11:04 pm

The past few days have been great. My “desire” to drink is subsiding, and I have to say, I’ve either pushed it WAY out of my mind, or I’m actually realizing that No, drinking does not change anything and is simply not that much fun. It does not work anymore. It really doesn’t.

In fact, these days, I feel safe. Early days, back in June, I did not feel safe — best word I can think of. I felt unsafe in my day-to-day world. Around every corner was an unknown: would I be able to resist the craving, and would I be able to sweat it out without, I don’t know, breaking my teeth or exploding into a thousand pieces? That’s how…existentially challenged I felt. I think they call it, *crawling out of your skin.*

Today, almost six months later (not six months sober, but counting all the days since June 13th, pretty close), I feel safer in the world, with the world, with passing time. Somehow, I’ve created this room of my own inside myself where I can now go and sit and wait and just chill, instead of drinking, when I feel existential anxiety (like, What to do? When will I die? What is all this?). I’ve been eating better (trying to, at least), swimming in the mornings (trying to, at least); my sciatica is mending, which is a HUGE relief. I’ve been getting my work done, hitting the beach with my boyfriend, and in general, settling in and feeling significantly more at home in my skin here.

YET…

AA has been a dark spot. It agitates me. The worst part is, it doesn’t have to. Why do I think that AA is the only way? Hmm. It’s also like a challenge that’s been presented…and now I HAVE to go for it, beat it, win and not lose. That’s ME; maybe it’s precisely the wrong program for someone whose reasons for drinking include an overly competitive nature?

Anyway, while it helped at first, it’s now become a sort of thorn in my side. I’ve felt judged — I was harassed the other night by someone I would call a “Big Book thumper” and had to hold my tongue (I ranted to my boyfriend for hours after I came home, though) — and like, I’m doing it wrong. The egos, the neuroses; the cliques, the male peacocking and female…who knows what! It’s overwhelming sometimes, mainly because I don’t want to deal with 50 other drinking problems! I HAVE MY OWN, thank you very much.

And — I stand my ground on this –I don’t have to. Neither does anyone! I have a friend who relapsed, who seems to be trying, and her sponsor told her that if she’s unwilling to commit 100 percent, she’s wasting her (the sponsor’s) time. Jesus. Fuck off, is what I’d say.

So, I’ve decided that yes, I like the meetings, but no, I don’t like everything about them or the program. And, I don’t have to. I don’t have to throw the baby out with the bath water, in other words. I don’t have to share. I don’t have to like everyone in the room. I don’t have to get a sponsor, take this Big Book nonsense all that seriously, or do the steps. All I have to do is stick to my sobriety and my ideas of how to not drink, which to be perfectly frank, I don’t believe to be all that unenlightened.

Hmm…

It’s a shame, really. BUT, I don’t have to drink over it! I don’t have to let it push my buttons, which include a perfectionist bent. I can NOT CARE — and make up my own mind — and this is a good thing. I’m taking it as a form of additional therapy: practicing NOT caring when I tell myself I SHOULD; practicing letting go of the “have to be a good student or I’m worthless” mentality, which has gotten me a lot of degrees and high-paying jobs but which came at a huge psychological cost!

(On the bright side, I’ve discovered that a/my “higher power” does not have to be a deity, or deity-related. This higher power, I’ve concluded, could very well be a literal HIGHER thinking — like, ABOVE both rational and irrational thought. This, then, I can understand, and it means that I can also grasp the meditation step (#11) as a way to commune with it — *I* am it. I am of the divine, I am the one who I can access, I am the god-voice within. Of course, a very Buddhist mentality, but I’ve connected with this in the past a lot more than deity-based religions anyhow.)

I’ll keep plugging; I’m not giving up. I’d like to finish the Big Book — and keep going to meetings — so that I have some ammunition to throw at these people! I do feel like I NEED to distance myself a bit, though (maybe attend less meetings, maybe try some non-AA recovery programs); it’s not worth drinking over because I feel agitated at meetings. It’s not. And, I won’t. There is NO WAY I’m drinking before 90 days. One 90 days at a time. 😉

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