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Loosening the reins (not caring), committing fully, or both?

12:11 pm

I know, the past two posts have been about not caring, and I apologize for that.

It’s not exactly “not caring,” it’s more not having the energy to care THAT MUCH about the “whole mess,” as I’ve been referring to my drinking life/getting sober. Life moves on, and well, I have to let some things go in order to make room for others, right? (My brother called me the other day, but I just can’t be bothered; there will be no call back, mainly to preserve my momentum and because, well, I don’t feel like engaging anyone, including my own family, in a passive aggressive relationship. In a nutshell, I just can’t care. I feel bad, sure, but I can’t care about that either.)

(And, this will be a very lame paragraph in an effort to preserve my anonymity, so bear with me:)

I’m going [out of town] tomorrow to check out a graduate program I’m interested in, to check in on my storage unit, to see some friends, to go to the DMV, and to hit the dentist and hair salon (there are salons down here, of course, but you know, creature of habit). I’m thinking (we’ll see tonight, after my Skype chat) of volunteering for about six weeks teaching English on [a neighboring island] this summer. We’re going to [another neighboring island] for my birthday. I’m running, making (some) money, and trying to begin the thought process involved in re-inserting myself back into the “real world” workforce without having a panic attack…

Panic attack? Nah. I know that I’m beyond that kind of thinking. But, drinking? Well, I do have butterflies, mainly because I wonder if I can do this sober? This real life thing? Or, is it just that this all scares me NOW, at this moment, because I basically “hid” on an island for about 18 months (in order to get sober) and now…? Maybe it’s that I KNOW it’ll all unfold smoothly…if and only if I don’t drink? Is it that wolfie’s simply looking for an in here, and I have to put my foot down (on its skull) and close that door?

I admit, I have thought about drinking once I get on the plane. You know? Like, I made it to 70 days again, and damn it, what else is there to do in my old big city but drink?! Drink drank drunk! Sigh. That was my OLD life, I have to keep reminding myself. I have to have the foresight (check; shit would be so disappointing if I wound up back to square one within a day) and courage (um, check?) to believe that I can do it. I just have to take the first step, then the second, then the third…

Almost subconsciously, I alerted the friend who I’ll be crashing with that I was sober. She already knows, but I guess I figured, I better remind her…so that I don’t have an out, you see. Which, the next day, a part of me (wolfie-boy) was like, Aww, damn it, now I really can’t drink if I’ve promised her not to let me! Boo.

Then, it quickly crept up on me, like a fast blush, that I really don’t want to drink. Why? For all the same God damned, motherfucking (yes, I need that ;)) reasons I haven’t been drinkin’ since last June (thick skull): don’t want to get too drunk on the flight and get lost at the airport (or worse); don’t want to show up at my friend’s place drunk and/or angry (or worse); don’t want to sleep until 10 or 11 (uh, 2?), hung over, and mess up my schedule, which has my days packed with activity; don’t want to be THAT girl, who has not only offended and let down her big city peeps, but who wants to prove to them that she really IS changed.

Things are different. I believe it. They are, aren’t they?

I think I just have to take some deep breaths, rely on my well-trained sober muscles, and go forth. Like a track star. Which I am, right? There will be scared-y cat moments, there will be awkward and weird encounters; but, if I commit to being sober, all will go well. There will be no events, no crises, no hangovers, no ruinous bullshit. And, I can come home and be on my way to 90 days (again)…making Belle’s 100 Day Challenge a success…and building toward 180, where I’ve never been.

(The truth is, I could probably drink on the flight, but not more than two. And, I could probably drink on my own, but not with my friends (I will never go there again, mainly because I have NO idea what might transpire)–but, what fun is that? And, it’s like, duh, this all feels so familiar, limiting and rationing and blah blah blah. In fact, this leads me to remember an incident I read about and one of my own, about some kid who died because he tried some stupid stunt on the subway tracks while shitfaced… There is no other option but to not drink. For now. And I know it.)

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, binge drinking, butterflies, drinking, goals, living life sober, milestone, psychology, real world, recovery, sober, sober muscle, sobriety, travel, triggers, wine, women

Comments 15 Comments
Categories 100 Day Challenge, Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Change, Family, Goals, Life, Milestones, Psychology, Recovery, Sobriety, Travel, Triggers

It’s OK to not care (that much) anymore

23 May

7:46 pm

I’m here, and nothing big to report. Still got blue skies, sparkly water, green trees, and very little desire to fuck it all up by drinkin’, let alone care about the whole mess. I’m gliding, and it feels good.

FINALLY. It’s taken almost a year for my brain to repair itself; and, I really think it has, to a large extent. I’m not sure what to make of it, though, because it’s new territory. Simply put, I think I’ve just accepted that I cannot drink, for one thing. I don’t drink now, like I’m preggers or have a life-threatening illness. I can’t drink, won’t drink, don’t drink. End of story. I think I’ve not only given up (let’s just say) on feeling better, but I’ve stopped actually being 100 percent fucking CONVINCED that wine will do it for me! Which, if you look at it in a positive light, is a good thing.

Second, I don’t really have time to drink or think about drinking these days–I’ve got science and writing and travel and future plans to wrangle with, AND, I’ve started running again, so that means EITHER drinking or training, but not both (hangover + running = null set). I don’t really have the energy, either, to think about all the emotional whys and wherefores that brought me to addiction. I’m over it, and frankly, I think it’s OK to stop dwelling on it all, for now. Yup, you should say you’re sorry. Yup, you should connect your drinking to your (my) self-loathing attempts at self-sabotage. Yup, yup, yup. Let it go, though, friends. I’ve read quite a few posts lately in which peeps are running around in their heads, trying to figure it all out. It’s OK not to care about figuring it all out, for now. You can not care AND be sober. You really can!

Booze is not the problem, you (we) are. That means that other things will come up, like binge eating, or sugar, or coffee. Or, doing something instead of what you should be doing; by “should,” I mean your dharma, and we all know what it is we’re called to do, we just have to take the time to discover it. At the end of the day, only you can figure out what happens after the bottle of vodka or decanter-sized glass of wine runs out. I’ve read some posts dealing with filler addictions, replacement fixes. Look: if you can give up fucking drinking, DUDE, you can give up ANYTHING. I’m pretty sure the only thing more painful than fucking around in my head for a year, wrestling with wolfie-boy is, I don’t know, hanging from metal hooks latched into my skin? It’s a constant struggle for all of us, I’m guessing, to not cave into our other “vices” just because we don’t drink. Again, let it go. You’re doing your best. Cut back, or do one thing less than you’re doing it, or more. And, it’s OK to not give a shit about this, too!

All that matters is you’re not drinking. Everything else, if you’re a human being with a functioning mind, will fall into place…eventually. And if it doesn’t? Well, it’s OK to let that go, too.

What helps me now? Knowing full well that a “glass of wine” (haha) won’t make it better. Won’t even come close. I just KNOW THAT. Why? Because I slipped. And, I think about the scenario over and over and over and over…until it finally fucking dawns on me that wine is not really what I want. I want relief. From what, is the key question. And, thinking it through, and finding your way–like, a mental route–to that question IS sober living, whether or not you end up drinking to ease the pain. GOOD FOR YOU that you’ve arrived at that KEY question: hold it in the palm of your hand and don’t let it go, no matter how much the little jewel might burn.

I also fill my days as much as I can, and I run into the problem of feeling empty, like I have nothing inside me, like I’m just a shell of a person. And, in a sense, I am. But, I (we) are building, and filling, and creating, and being productive instead of destructive–so, move through the regret and embrace this probably common truth that we (I) are shells and start FILLING it up with stuff you like to do. Most of the time I think I don’t know what I “really really” want or like to do, but I know I like writing, and science, and I have degrees from schools, and there’s the dogs, and the boyfriend, and my cakes, and…why the FUCK am I being so hard on myself? I’m SO full, it’s ridiculous! So, even I don’t know what I mean by this “shell” thing, but again, I don’t care. For now.

Hey, I thought the other day, I can live sober. I can actually DO THIS. It ain’t that bad not drinking. What a fucking epiphany. LOL. (Hello, first 35 years of my life! Were you really THAT bad?) Even a few weeks ago, I didn’t really believe this.

The remaining immediate hurdle for me is getting over, somehow, the sense that there is nothing as awesome to look forward to as wine. Sure, I can do this and substitute that, but wine, oh, wine, there is no one but you. That goes in direct contrast to what I just wrote, about realizing that wine is NOT what I want, but hey, it’s the human brain we’re dealing with here: fucked up.

Yes, this post contains a lot of “fuck’s,” but fuck it, this is how I talk to myself sometimes. 😉

So, I’m on Day…I’m not even sure. 66. Tomorrow will be 67. Onward to 90, then 100, then…the gilt-edged 180? *glitter ball*

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, binge drinking, coping mechanism, coping skills, cravings, drinking, goals, let it go, milestone, psychology, recovery, slip, sober, sobriety, triggers, wine, women

Comments 4 Comments
Categories 100 Day Challenge, Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Coping mechanisms, Cravings, Disease, Goals, Life, Milestones, Psychology, Recovery, Slip, Sobriety, Triggers

And, that was a slip, not a relapse–I hope

20 Mar

10:23 pm

OK. Back to our regularly scheduled program.

Thanks for all the supportive comments–you guys are amazing!

And, it really is quite astonishing to see just how many of us are affected so deeply by this drinking thing. I mean, a lot of my friends and family just don’t get it, don’t want to know. And yet, this is a HUGE deal for me, both drinking and now, not drinking. And, I know that I can be proud of myself, even if no one in my immediate friends circle or family really gives two shits. I KNOW it’s a big deal, and I KNOW I have every right to tear it up on my unicorn, screaming and clawing at the sky–I am THAT awesome.

Sometimes, you need to throw yourself a parade.

All I can say is, I did jot some things down yesterday afternoon, even in my groggy state, and it’s a testament to the learning that comes about when you quit your habit and embrace the often difficult journey of getting to know yourself. I recognized all these things from just one slip, which is awesome. Now it’s time to put them into practice.

1. Certain things are in the past; it’s TIME to let them go–put them away and move on. Really. No more wasting energy and/or head space revisiting events, circumstances, and emotions that are in and of the past. It’s strange with feelings, though; I do think that sometimes, these need to be expunged. Emotions are evergreen and somehow persist, as if you keep feeling them fresh, again and again, no matter how much time passes. Sage? A fire ritual, maybe?

2. I struggle with connection; I want it with people, but can’t seem to get it. I feel like I don’t really know how; maybe that’s a byproduct of being an introvert at heart. I mean, the kind of connection I desire is rather intense for some, maybe. When I start to feel really isolated, this urge to connect on a deeper level intensifies, and my conviction that it can’t be–we are each our own separate reality–looms large and oppressive.

3. It’s time to get out, people. Time to start DOING SHIT AGAIN. It’s not that I don’t live, but really, I don’t have a life, let’s face it. The only way, I realize now, to change this is to change this! I can’t scold myself for being lazy, or lacking initiative, or being afraid of people–maybe I am. However, maybe I needed to cocoon while getting sober, maybe I needed to isolate to protect myself while I licked my wounds and examined the damage. Now, however, it’s time to bust out those wings and start flying around. (Today, I had a job interview via Skype AND I went downtown to a nonprofit that I’ll hopefully end up volunteering for soon. It was fantastic, and, I hate to say it, long overdue. I felt a part of things, a creator of my life; that felt good, and is the antidote to isolating.)

4. It sucks growing up. It just does. *whine* I have made the choice–and so has my brother–to not engage anymore. He is not, and will not, be a part of my life in the same way he was, ever again. I am an adult woman, having adult conversations (albeit, ones I can’t fucking remember) with my mother, who is approaching 70. All these things and more make me feel like…grieving. Grieving for choices made, for a past that I NOW DEFINITELY HAVE. It’s a process, and I have to realize that THAT is what is going on inside, even if it feels a million miles away, buried underneath a lot of protective gear.

5. Do I have any real joy in my life? When I was hung the fuck over yesterday, I wondered. Now I know that YES, I do. However, I have to cultivate that joy–one of the simplest ways of doing that is by being sober–on a continual basis. That takes effort, and focus. Sometimes–well, often–I don’t feel like I have either!

Anyway, thanks, everyone, for letting me vent. One day I suppose I’ll have nothing left to analyze or process, but that day is likely in the distant future. So, here’s to big brains. And even bigger hearts.

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, binge drinking, coping mechanism, coping skills, cravings, drinking, isolating, isolation, recovery, slip, sober, sobriety, triggers, wine, women

Comments 4 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Change, Choices, Coping mechanisms, Life, Recovery, Slip, Sobriety, Triggers

I’m coming out…

16 Mar

10:42 pm

soon. Very, very soon. I think. I guess.

Lately–well, today especially–I’ve been feeling like I need to get out more. I do, it’s true. I work from home, I have no professional network down here, and I’ve perhaps become complacent in having my boyfriend as my sole/primary source of social life.

The thing is, I don’t know how to be all that “social” without drinking. And, if I do recall, I didn’t want to drink with others not just because I didn’t want to drink like a lady, but because I just liked being alone. Sober or drunk, I like being alone. In fact, I’ve spent a LOT of days, nights, weeks, years–as a journalist, as a drinker, as a 20- and 30-something–getting to know other people. I’m kind of digging getting to know myself. Spending all my time with myself. I feel like people want me to apologize for this, and it pisses me off.

I’m not going to apologize, and I’ve been doing my thang long enough to know that it’s quite all right to let what other people think I should be doing with my time go in one ear and out the other. I have been ignoring the crowds since I was a kid, and it’s never made me feel “happy,” but I’m not necessarily seeking happiness rather contentment, peace, creative expression.

It also bugs me when “grownups” think it’s all about them. Just because I’m not hanging out with you doesn’t mean I don’t like you and/or I don’t want to hang out with you. Maybe I’m, y’know, getting sober and going through my own shit? Did you ever ask, or wonder? Maybe I’m going through my own awkward time figuring out how and what to do as a sociable sober person. Bottom line is, it has NOTHING to do with you.

Luckily, for some reason, getting sober has allowed me to take a big step back and give–excuse my French–much, MUCH less of a fuck about other people’s drama and bullshit. I don’t need to get upset; I really don’t allow myself. And this, somehow, is happening without much effort on my part.

What’s more, I feel like enough of a loser sometimes because I don’t socialize, but even more because I don’t want to, as a sober person. And now I have to defend myself against people who force me to be the empathetic one and lay out gently but non-offensively what *they’re* missing and how *their* reaction is not acceptable to me?

Not a good way to end my otherwise good day (I pulled myself through a 6-mile run, and am now feeling relatively pain-free, so that’s A+-awesome!). I wanted to drink over it tonight. I looked at the calendar and realized that I’m probably, deep down, just waiting for the night I allow myself to drink again. (For the record, I would have zero desire to go to the bar to do it!) Am I simply living the same way, just not drinking? Have I made any progress then?

Yeah, I do “need to get out more,” but I refuse to pressure myself right now. I don’t care what anyone else or the little voice inside my head is saying–talk to the hand, bitches! 🙂

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, binge drinking, drinking, going out, going out sober, recovery, sober, sobriety, social anxiety, socializing, socializing sober, triggers, wine, women

Comments 6 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Recovery, Sobriety, Social Anxiety, Triggers

Are there any reasons left TO drink?

15 Mar

2:29 am

I’m sorry, but it’s been a week since I last posted. Since then, I’ve been to Miami and back, have worked on another editorial project, landed an interview for a (extraordinarily underpaid) job in NYC, thought way too much about having kids, begun my “serious” half-marathon training (I’m up to about 6 miles on my “long” runs). A lot has happened/is happening. Which is good. Which is/are more reasons not to drink.

I think I need goals. I think I also need reasons not to drink. However, when I take a close look–I had the “opportunity” to do so the other night–my main “reasons” left TO drink are sadness and/or disappointment. I can deal with anger, with envy, with ennui; it’s being sad, or disappointed–with feeling like I have no power over mortality, over aging, for instance–these make me want to go blotto.

Yet, the worst/best part is: drinking is not a solution. At all. In fact, drinking is not that much fun…SO, there’s really no point to it. Right? Right. (Yet, I KNOW that wine still calls, and it does so for a reason: it WAS that good. Or…was it? No, it wasn’t. YES, it SO was. Nah…not really. ARG! Down, wolf.)

It really is that simple. No regrets, no remorse, no character defects, no amends. Just a simple truth: I’d had enough, and I don’t want–cannot have–what was, which was me, literally risking my life and losing more and more of my spirit and/or soul every time I drank. Fortunately, I suppose, there was no other option but to stop drinking.

I’ve seen my peace of mind–less depression, less anxiety–simply RETURN. As if, drinking was filling up a lot of my journal with obsessive, self-loathing thoughts, and not, these negative thought patterns were inherent to my person and causing me to drink. Yes, my power is coming back, my sense of innate “sure-ness”; I can make decisions without having to over-think them AND without even thinking about thinking about them. THAT is the magic, and it happens WITH NO EFFORT ON YOUR PART EXCEPT TO QUIT DRINKING FOR A SUSTAINED PERIOD OF TIME. For me, that’s taken until oh, about now. It’s not easy, but I never would have seen the simplicity of the solution had I kept drinking and over-complicating EVERYTHING.

It’s so much more that that, too: an increased awareness, an increased ability to have fun, more motivation, the feeling that there is ground and not sinkhole under my feet. More, and more, and more than that, too. Yet, the changes are subtle, and to keep them in place does take a bit of work, mentally speaking. That’s what the first 90 days–shit, the first 20 weeks in my case–are for: to get you used to the struggle so that eventually, it feels easy.

Will I drink again? Maybe. I mean, it’s not a bad thing, alcohol; it’s how I was using it, the emotional handle I didn’t have–the lack of awareness surrounding my own tendency to binge in the face of unaddressed emotions, stressers, etc. Will I drink again? Not now, no. I’m not healed; I’m not in a safe enough place. Will I use and/or abuse wine? I don’t plan to, no. That is empowering, and liberating. I don’t NEED to drink and somehow, I don’t really want to anymore, either. Hmm. Strange days, indeed. (22 weeks yesterday!)

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, binge drinking, drinking, recovery, sober, sobriety, triggers, wine, women

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Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Recovery, Sobriety, Triggers

You have to go through it to get through it

30 Dec

9:39 pm

I REALLY wanted to drink last night. REALLY, REALLY, REALLY. Frustration, disappointment in self, ennui, fear of the past and future, sadness… I spent the day on the couch, feeling ill, too, which only contributed to this pent-up bad juju.

A fog of desire, that’s what it was. A fog of desire to drink. To drown it out, drown it away.

I used to drink when I felt the way I felt last night. OH, YES, I did. NO WAY IN HELL was I going to let that pimple come to a head. What I mean is, I would shut down the emerging thoughts before they fully formed, effectively transfiguring them into something other, something nebulous–something drunken. I would drink, then weep, yet, I never understood exactly what I was crying about; I knew I felt bad, but I never let myself think the real thoughts, only the drunken, fake ones.

I really wanted to drink the past two days, actually. I’ve just felt low energy, depressed, frustrated. Numerous points, but always the same theme: I’m not doing enough with my talents, I’m wasting valuable time. What’s it all mean? Why create, produce, leave behind, anyway? I’ve forgotten most of my life (I mean, I don’t specifically remember a lot of the hours I’ve been alive, y’know?), what’s the point of creating new memories? (LOL–SUCH a negative thought!) And, of course, the next thought had to come: In fact, what a SHITE thing to do, to have a kid and subject him/her to what I’m feeling and thinking right now, which HAS to cross most people’s minds now and then, right? RIGHT? And on and on. We rented “Ted,” and that was pretty funny, so the night wasn’t ALL BAD, of course! Yet, the whirring continued until my boyfriend went to bed and I was left on the couch (still), wishing I had bought myself a treadmill for Christmas. Or a sledge hammer!

I’ve always felt pressured to accomplish, achieve, create. It’s become an addiction, I know, perceiving my reality this way and reacting to it, usually negatively. However, being sober–getting sober, the process of, actually–has allowed me to begin to see that NO, I don’t have to keep doing what I’ve always done! I have a choice in how I see the world and how I let it make me feel. I mean, I can choose not only WHAT I think about but also HOW I choose to think about certain things, especially my own ideas of productivity, purpose, and achievement. I get to choose how I relate to my thoughts, my feelings, and my gut reactions.

It’s a process, though, so one step forward, two steps back. Last night, I did the usual: I let my brain go there, and pretty soon, I was clenching my gut, nearly wanting to break my teeth because… I…I…What am I doing? What am I doing with my time? Am I simply not a good writer? Have I become a has-been? And then, the thought of thoughts, the rotten core of the apple:

Have I lost myself in being sober? Which, of course, almost instantaneously morphed into, Sobriety has taken myself away from me!

Evil-doer, DEVIL sobriety.

Today, I’m not sure what to think about this melodramatic conclusion except, it’s sort of true. I am no longer my old self. I no longer have wine to boost my mood, to encourage me to want to do what I thought I wanted to do. Without wine, I don’t do this and I don’t do that, so did I ever really LIKE doing this and that? Was I even good at it?

Moreover, I just feel–feel is the key word; feelings are tricky, remember?–like I’m no longer myself! Sure, I’m a new self, and probably a better one. But, I MISS the old me. The “fun” me. I realized I haven’t danced alone in my room since June! That saddens me. And, I have to say, not drinking has left me feeling more content but less happy. I don’t get to get giddy, to let off steam. Sure, I could do this sober, but…why haven’t I?

So, that thought of “I’ve lost myself in getting sober” was what sent me on a crying jag. No wine, though, to initiate it for no apparent reason…and to instantly turn it off when the wine wears off. You know how that goes: you get drunk, you turn on a song (fuck you, Damien Rice), and you start bawling. It feels good, mainly because you DO have something to bawl about but it’s deep down and you simply don’t want to bring it up, or you CAN’T, or you can’t without the wine; and then, the song ends, you abruptly stop crying, and you refill your glass…likely now laughing. At something equally ethereal and, well, NOT REAL.

Last night, the opposite. Real pain, real tears. A staring-me-in-the-face realization that YES, maybe I will never be the same person, maybe I will no longer be able to identify with that self, which I’ve been living with for a long time. Yes, I am getting older; yes, I might not have children; yes, I might be a has-been, as far as the science writing community in [cold east coast city] goes. Yes, yes, yes. And, it hurts.

But you know what? This, too, shall pass. Cry, sit there and sulk in the dark, and then realize, who the FUCK cares anyway aside from little old you? LOL. Like, if John Doe over there doesn’t even KNOW what I’m going through let alone can even identify with it, is it really worth fussing over? Let it go. CHOOSE how you react to your own Never Never Land of thoughts, Drunky Drunk Girl. It’s not real…

A funny thing happened, then, which is pretty simple: I felt better. When I woke up this morning, I felt like I had made some sort of progress. Moved forward, or at least moved beyond a certain point. If I had drunk to drown out my thoughts and feelings, I never would have processed them. I might have had a fake catharsis (cry, hit someone, pass out exhausted), but I would have woken up in the same place–still sad, still semi-baffled and unclear, and worse, HUNG OVAH.

So, the title of my post: you have to go through it to get through it. For me, desiring to drink these days is much less about wanting to get drunk and happy as it is avoiding confronting my “issues.” Which is a good thing to know, really. Simple, but it takes what it takes, right? Oh, AA, I must thank you for your funny little expressions that I’ve sort of come to adore.

(I’ve decided that the Big Book is a bunch of malarkey, but we’ll blog about that another night.)

AND, thank you, Sobersphere, you’ve kept me once again from ruining my streak with one false move–coming up on 90 days in about a week and a half!

Tags: accomplishment, achievement, alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, binge drinking, coping mechanism, coping skills, cravings, depression, drinking, ennui, goals, productivity, psychology, recovery, sense of purpose, sobriety, triggers, wine, women

Comments 32 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Coping mechanisms, Cravings, Depression, Life, Psychology, Recovery, Sobriety, Triggers, Work, Writing

Perspective…and post-hoilday pangs

27 Dec

10:10 pm

Oy. I got ’em. Well, I got pangs, but I don’t got (ouch, sorry, Mom) perspective.

The past few days I’ve felt like a mack truck hit me. I just can’t. Do. Anymore. Taking care of shit. AND, it’s not like I had THAT much to do!? What is wrong with me? All I know is, I’m way too hard on myself AND, drinkin’ won’t fix these (post-)holiday blues…

Anyway, I’m tired. Overwhelmed by…what, exactly? The holidays are kind of bullshit. I mean, stressful, running, spending, expecting, performing, judging…no fucking wonder people go crazy. Someone in my AA circle hanged herself a few days before Christmas. It’s one of those things that just sticks in the back of your mind, rests there like a benign tumor. I had met and talked to her a few times, and she seemed to be, well, on something. Talk about my little first-world problems meaning nothing. Annnnnd, now I’m feeling guilty for having any feelings at all about my life. ARG.

I really wanted to drink today. Feeling somewhat exhausted from the constant telling myself that I really didn’t want to partake in the “fun” at multiple Christmas get-togethers; remaining cheerful even when I felt a little bit like stomping my feet and throwing a tantrum inside; looking on Facebook to see multiple people/friends, OF COURSE, publishing articles, and books, and yada fucking yada. Me? STILL stalling. No pitching, no reporting, no writing. I could do it, I could be competitive. I’m wasting my talents, I often think. Have I simply chosen not to participate, at least for now? Am I just lazy, or still burnt out? Or, maybe I, um, had a mental/nervous breakdown the past three years (since I was fired from my job after a disastrously drunken Christmas party shenanigan–I yelled at my CEO and then missed two days work because I, um, went to jail for disorderly conduct…). In any case, it’s time, isn’t it? Shouldn’t I be busting a move? What is wrong with me?

All these thoughts were circling in my head as I woke this morning. And, I woke from a dream in which I woke up to find that I had gotten shitfaced and texted mean things to like, 20 people while sleeping. Let me repeat: I dreamt that I drank while I was asleep and did a bunch of mean things. So, there is now something called “drunkwalking” in my world, which is made even more meta because I dreamt about it. Jesus.

Today, I tried, but it was hard to really appreciate any of it. The water, the beach with my boyfriend, the sunshine, my new bikini and wrap… So, I decided to come home, take a deep breath, walk the dogs, gaze at the marvelous moonrise through a set of pink clouds, and eat cake. My boyfriend invited me out to the bar where he works, but I just don’t feel like sitting around watching people drink and then trying to have a conversation with someone who won’t remember it and who keeps repeating him/herself anyway…

So, what’s the point of this? Oh, perspective. Wavering at the moment. And I do have pangs, as in “I really want to drink when I hit 90 days”-type pangs, but I’m hoping they’ll pass once I get a handle on my next moves, professionally. This was a problem that nearly floored me when I was drinking, and I would drink and drink and drink over it. Now, I realize that it simply needs to be addressed. I can do it, if I put my mind to it. Drinking will not solve anything, and will only keep me in this place, for longer.

Onward and upward. Or, maybe, let it go and go to bed early. Or, better yet, watch The Lord of the Rings trilogy in preparation for The Hobbit in the theater tomorrow night? YES.

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, binge drinking, coping mechanism, coping skills, cravings, depressed, drinking, holiday blues, holidays, lonely, perspective, recovery, sad, sobriety, stress, triggers, wine, women

Comments 11 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Cravings, Holidays, Recovery, Sobriety, Triggers, Work, Writing

Buh-bye, wine. (‘We are never ever ever getting back together’)

15 Nov

9:23 pm

So, first up, THANK YOU, friends, for talking me down from the ledge. This afternoon, I got over myself and poured it out. The bottle of red that I hurriedly picked up on my way home from a frustrating AA meeting last night, that is.

I poured it down the kitchen sink, but I was going to do it over the toilet. However, I don’t hold grudges (Yellow Tail didn’t intentionally hurt me, so I have to show her (it’s a her) some respect.).

The funny thing is, I video recorded it on my phone! Haha. Me. I was going to post it here for all to see and laugh at, but I can’t seem to upload it via WordPress’s media library. Oh, well. In short, it was of me, tipping the bottle over the sink and saying, “Buh-bye.” Twice. “Buh-bye.” Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out!

Whew. I’m over it. Like many people said in their comments to my post last night, getting drunk is simply not worth it. I’ve got 5 weeks as of today, and damn it, it just doesn’t help to drink. It doesn’t work. And, it’s not going to change anything — except to make it worse, because one glass leads to one bottle leads to two bottles leads to…you get the gist. Most importantly, in order to get past this obsession, I need to learn to sit with it. “It” being my bad feelings, my frustration, my cravings/desire to drink. My want. That is what I’m working on simply accepting. And, like I shared in a meeting tonight, paradoxically, when I accept my wanting to drink, it’s easier to deal with it.

Work the muscle. Practice makes perfect.

A strange concept hit me when I was pouring the wine down the drain, strange in that it was the first time I actually conceptualized the fact that wine is not what I want! It is a substance, like any other. And, that it is ONLY that, a substance — external and separate. As I watched my hand through the camera, I realized just how separate wine is from me. How impersonal. It holds my projections, but alone, it means nothing. It could have been red paint, or red gasoline, or red hydrochloric acid.

At that moment, having dramatically separated myself from the bottle, I realized that I didn’t want to DRINK the wine, I wanted to INGEST it. Like, I wanted to bring it toward my heart, cradle it on the inside. It’s interesting to me that our physical hunger and our emotions are tied up in the same neurons in our brain, the same place. Ancient structures control basic needs and essential feelings. So, does my heart hurt, or does my stomach feel empty? It’s quite hard to tell, and maybe it’s both. Do I drink wine, especially, because it fills my empty stomach or my aching heart — or, my aching stomach and my empty heart?

I have known this emotional hunger; Caroline Knapp wrote a must-read book that floored me when I first read it. Drinking: A Love Story hits the nail on the head — and is written with so much eloquence. Booze is a friend, a lover to some. The attachment to your substance of choice is not simply physical, it is emotional. I think what makes it even harder to detach — cut the cord, as one of my friends used to say — from booze is that you’re consuming it. You’re drinking wine and swallowing beer. You’re not inhaling it, or putting it into your veins.

So, anyway, I dumped the wine. A split second moment of sadness and then, relief. Moving on…

I had a great day today, which started at 7 with a swim at the beach! My boyfriend gave me flowers, and I got assigned a bunch of work, which is a direct result of me proactively seeking it out (from my current editors and “co-workers”). Which makes me realize, again, how I need to be more proactive in a LOT of areas in my life.

So, it’s obviously not all bad. I can breathe, and I have four limbs and a healthy fear of aliens. Duh, life is pretty amazing. Still, I can get caught up in my own head and lose perspective. I’ll leave you with one big reason I have to be grateful: my location. I have to keep reminding myself that yes, I deserve this…

Tags: 12 steps, AA, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, binge drinking, Caroline Knapp, coping mechanism, coping skills, cravings, drinking, Drinking: A Love Story, emotional hunger, gratitude, recovery, sobriety, triggers, wine, women

Comments 13 Comments
Categories 12 Steps, AA, Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Cravings, Gratitude, Recovery, Sobriety, Triggers

Does anyone ever say anything bad about AA? Or, how I despise the peacocks in the room

14 Nov

9:37 pm

Yes, I’m annoyed.

I mean, WHY, oh why, does it feel like I can’t express my quickly declining interest in the steps, the thinkin’, the analyzing, the “learn to live” aspect of AA? Oh, right, because NO ONE in the room seems to allow it. I guess it might just be a matter of get on board or drown, but… That’s just not how it’s supposed to be! Quitting drinking is a process, and AA is simply not the only way.

Tonight’s meeting was the usual: five long-term sober males spouting off their “words of wisdom” and nearly getting off hearing themselves talk (to each other, basically) while the rest of us just sat there. Sure, I could’ve spoke up, but… It doesn’t feel right. I can hardly stand it anymore. Time to find a new meeting, methinks.

I’ve told my women friends that I’d LOVE to share my current thoughts about the program, which are: I don’t want to think about drinking even more than I have been doing. I don’t want to replace one set of “should’s” with another (I drank to escape self-imposed “should’s” and now I SHOULD follow the steps?). I don’t want a sponsor (well, not really, except to answer my questions and let me complain). I don’t want to look at my “denial,” my “horrible character defects,” my “lack of spirituality,” which is, of course, a result of not living AA (cough cough). I don’t want any of this, and I don’t want to feel guilty — or worse, like a wallflower, or like someone who is simply refusing to engage because she’s being a prick — about not wanting it. I just want to not drink.

I just want to not drink. Isn’t it OK to Just Not Drink?

Sigh.

This whole AA thing is fucking with my head. Maybe because I’ve done some of this work, maybe because I do analyze my drinking and the reasons behind it — a LOT. I mean, every single one of the old men rambling on about their drinking tonight talked about how selfish they were and how they never knew it, or how they never even considered that they had character defects.

Huh? The reason I drank — drink — is because of my “defects.”

I bought a bottle of wine on the way home — the first purchase of booze on the island this time around, 34 days later. As I was getting ready to walk the dog (which includes rubbing an inordinate amount of tiger balm all over my left leg, buttock, and hip = frustration nation, but I have faith that this sciatica flare-up has got to subside soon), I realized that today is day 34, which means tomorrow is 5 weeks.

I caved after 5 weeks the last time.

NOT AGAIN.

Still. Sometimes I can’t help but think, Come ON, DDG, isn’t this all a bit much? I mean, the abstinence, the black and white, the “never drinking again EVER?” It’s just a bottle of wine! It’s just grapes! And, then I have to remind myself that I don’t have to demonize the substance; I need to analyze my relationship to it and how I USE it. (I also have to remind myself that if I drink it, it’s my choice. Just like going to meetings. It’s all my choice, and none of this, including the rambling old white men, are meant to make things worse.)

I GOT THIS. 34 days sober and 13 out of 90 meetings in 90 days. NO STOPPING ME. (As I think about that cheap bottle of red in my bag…)

Tags: 12 steps, AA, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, binge drinking, drinking, recovery, sobriety, triggers, wine, women

Comments 12 Comments
Categories 12 Steps, AA, Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Recovery, Sobriety, Triggers

‘Letting go and letting God’ (cringe) means saying no

14 Nov

4:18 pm

No to a lot of things, at least for me at the moment.

I shared — finally — at last night’s women’s meeting, and the topic was letting go and letting God. Yikes. I get the first part of the sentence — to me it means stopping obsessing and living in my thoughts, which prevents me from doing things, or seeing the world as it is and not how I’m imagining it’s happening TO ME. It’s the second half that I’ve decided to well, let go. WHO KNOWS?

Letting go. Today, I realized that even reading magazines like Vogue triggers me. I’m sure I’m not alone, and I’m lucky to have a few years under my belt to know that douchebaggery and money do not buy happiness. Still, it sort of makes me think poorly of myself. To wonder, what if I had done this, or been that, would I be in these people’s shoes? “These people” meaning, all the people inside this evil book who are richer, thinner, and “happier” than I am.

Presently, “letting go” means letting go of my obsessive thoughts, which ensnare me. The ruminating, the overthinking. Giving up. It’s also as much about letting go of the conditioned thinking that comes with our cultural milieu, here in USA, Inc. For example:

I say no to being “successful.” I give up defining my success by other people’s standards and/or ideals.
I give up trying to stay thin.
I give up trying to stay fit.
I give up caring about your morality, as it compares to my own.
I give up wanting to have kids when I think it’s cruel and unusual punishment — to the kids.
I give up feeling bad about this.
I give up caring what my brother does or says, while he’s under the influence of his girlfriend.
I give up feeling guilty about giving up on this.
I give up feeling lazy because I’m not working 80 hours a week.
I give up feeling unproductive when I don’t get anything on my to-do list done.
I give up wanting a house.
I give up wanting to think buying a house is practical or even smart.
I give up thinking making my brain hurt by doing things it’s not good at is “challenging” and therefore, positive.

I could go on and on, but you get the gist. A lot of our obsessive thinking is a form of rebellion, and let me tell you, bucking the system, rebelling, is NOT EASY. It’s not easy on the mind, and it’s definitely not easy on the heart. It’s why, I’d say, a LOT of us drink/drank. The roots of my ennui, in a way, boil down to my absence of perspective on what’s a healthy way to react to striving/achievement, to success — and what’s NOT. Not to mention, it’s very difficult to make healthy mental and emotional choices when ALL AROUND YOU, EVERYONE IS NOT.

Look at our cities. Look at how people actually “live” in Silicon Valley. Look at what the typical American places value on, builds their sense of self around. You can say, That’s fucked up and I don’t want anything to do with it…but on the other hand, you also have to work within the system, at least for a while, in order to safely exit it.

I don’t know. I’m thinking too much now. When I say, I need to learn how to Turn It Off, it means turn off the TV, the computer, the phone, the city, the chitter chatter of people all around me — my friends and family, those closest to my heart — who are stopping making sense to me.

And, when all else fails, I turn on David Byrne because, well, I find his brand of lunacy more intelligent and more comforting than all the creature comforts and mental salves that I’m supposed to want, to hold on to, to fight for.

I give up!

Tags: 12 steps, AA, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, binge drinking, drinking, higher power, Let go and let God, recovery, sobriety, triggers, wine, women

Comments 4 Comments
Categories 12 Steps, AA, Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Higher Power, Recovery, Sobriety, Triggers

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Drunky Drunk Girl

Loosening the reins (not caring), committing fully, or both?

It’s OK to not care (that much) anymore

And, that was a slip, not a relapse–I hope

Are there any reasons left TO drink?

You have to go through it to get through it

Perspective…and post-hoilday pangs

Buh-bye, wine. (‘We are never ever ever getting back together’)

Does anyone ever say anything bad about AA? Or, how I despise the peacocks in the room

‘Letting go and letting God’ (cringe) means saying no

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