3:33 pm
So, as you know, we are about to embark on a new year, a new decade, a…blah blah blah. For some reason, I just can’t this year. I can’t try that hard to have a “memorable” New Year’s Eve this year. Granted, just being sober will make it 100 percent more memorable than a lot of my past New Year’s Eves. Kidding aside, I’m just kind of burnt this year, and tired of trying to coordinate and make it happen–in spite of my own resistance, fatigue, and other people’s inability to commit. Frankly, I kind of want to spend it alone, with my dog, watching TV (my boo has to work). I have never wanted to watch television on NYE, but this year, it sounds perfectly acceptable!
What I want for myself for this new year is to stop taking people–their actions, my thoughts about their actions–personally. I think that will go a LONG way toward being grateful and staying present. Lately, I’ve found myself spiraling down my mental rabbit hole by forgetting to be grateful for the BAZILLION things that are important–my sobriety and all the past and present struggles that have come with it; our moves and moving around, which have taught us some serious lessons about who we are and what we want; my relationship; the handful of meaningful friendships that I do have in my life; my sweet dog, who is ailing and probably won’t see another holiday season, but for which I have to be grateful, and for whom I have to stay present.
Today, my big outing was taking my girl down to our local “dog beach,” which isn’t an actual public beach so it makes for a quiet setting. There is an inlet protected from the swell where she can go swimming. It was sad watching her, and I cried. I mean, I cry a little inside every time I have to carry her up the stairs, help her get up, pick up her poop on the carpet inside because she can’t control her muscles back there that well; but I don’t “cry” cry. This felt good, and I needed it; I need to start letting go.
I am not sure what is worse: having a dog that gets cancer and goes fast, or a dog who has this horrible, progressive arthritis that gradually transforms her into one that barely resembles the pup you once knew. I know, I know, she’s a dog; but, it’d be the same emotional rollercoaster with a person (it IS the same, watching my mom), only the progression would take 20 years, not two.
I was angry for a bit, like, I am never getting another dog, why bother, I don’t/can’t go through this again. But, it got me thinking, well, that is so depressing and cynical–if I lost my partner, would I choose to spend the rest of my life alone, choose to be angry and antisocial because…life? This is life, the coming and going. This is life, and it hurts, and it sucks, but…the anger and frustration is life, too. And it all passes, sooner rather than later. What can you do but choose to accept, embrace, process? What can you do but decide that you will NOT fall into the self-defeating trap of black-and-white thinking?
This year, I want to start getting past my anger and frustration regarding this general aging shit–myself, my dog, my mom and my dad, both of whom are struggling immensely with physical and mental decline. To not let perimenopausal night heat and insomnia (though, lack of sleep is its own mental health disorder) overturn my world; to not let my mom or dad’s decline influence my emotional state so much; to just love my dog and try to let it be, accept it for what it is, let it go, let HER go… I can’t live in this state of resistance all the time, but, I also don’t want to lay down and let the world run me over, like a huge ocean wave; that might lead to me giving up. I don’t ever want to give up; I don’t ever want to stop listening to the radio (Walking Dead reference, folks…!).
Sometimes, I want to drink; most times, I think, why bother? I know it won’t change anything–it’s not going to stop time, and it’s not going to change how I deal with the passing of time and aging. So, I won’t, and I’ll keep plugging: be grateful, stay present. Cry. Whisper-scream (oh, all right, just scream, but no banging on the thighs in the middle of the night as you whisper-scream).
How hard can it be? Hahaha…
Inhale, exhale, and remember: drinking only makes it better for a split second, and then it makes it much, much worse. I tell myself that every time I have recently thought, eh, maybe this is the year I start drinking in moderation, I’m ready, why not? Um, because, it won’t make anything that is good better, and it won’t fix anything that is bad–it will just make it more bad. That is logic that Wolfie-boy, drinking-brain does not like because it makes drinking seem illogical and irrational–which is what it is and why it’s so cunning and baffling; and small and ridiculous and empty.
Aight, off my box. I wish everyone a wonderful eve, spent here, there, everywhere, and nowhere–it’s all good. Be grateful and stay present. The stars keep shining, and if you let it, your head does keep wanting to look up to see them (though, we might not see Betelgeuse soon!).
Happy 2020, friends, and we’ll see you on the flip!
Drunky Drunk Girl 