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Cravings and triggers…

12:44 am

are two separate realities. Who knew?

I feel like I’ve crested a hill that I never made it over before, and that is Craving Hill. Like, the cravings, rather than being a constant buzz in my ear, have become a semi-distant ringing. And, the cravings are distinct from the triggers. I always sort of thought that the trigger was the craving, or the craving was the trigger; not so.

(Bear with me; since I have been going to meetings and plugged into this “other world” of therapy and acceptance, my thoughts have been like massive explosions — expanding, convoluted, all over the place; shrapnel flying at me from all directions.)

My cravings are subsiding into memory. And if not, I slap my mental wrist so hard every time I think about giving up AGAIN before 90 days that they run fleeing, like a scolded dog, from my frontal cortex to the dark neuronal recesses where they fucking belong. That being said, I’m don’t want to jinx it. I keep waiting for them to come back, but they really haven’t. Yesterday, even when I was crying and feeling super-down and super-frustrated, I didn’t necessarily want to drink wine, i.e., I didn’t crave wine. I just wanted the feelings to go away.

Which brings me to my point: cravings are cravings, and they subside. Triggers are what’s behind the cravings, and they don’t! Well, I’m learning how to eliminate the triggers by doing something about them, OR, by learning how to take a deep breath, accept them, and plan to deal with them as soon as I can. For example, in order to not feel the trigger of existential inertia, I can send a pitch letter, or email someone at the university about a class, or make some headway on my long-shelved memoir (none of these things I’ve done yet, but that’s where the whole “plan to deal with them” part comes in!)…

At tonight’s meeting, I realized that most of my social angst comes from not being open, not doing the inviting. As an old roommate of mine used to say (this pertained to dating, which I was not doing any of in my late 20s), “You have to make yourself aVAILable.” She’d always emphasize and drag out the “VAIL” part, as if saying it like that would make me realize that I wasn’t doing so. I pretended to not know what she meant, but I’m pretty sure it had something to do with actually answering my phone, or picking it up once in a while and making the call, or stopping driving around [cold west coast city] alone, aimlessly, when I could be like, sitting in on a class or having coffee or doing a million and three other amazing things in that town that I never did because I was so damned scared to make myself aVAILable.

I get it now, but it’s funny to watch my old habits rearing their ugly heads here. I feel a bit…voiceless…these days. Like, I’ve lost my voice in this getting-sober thing. Or, I forgot the words. What I think it is, is not having my usual points of reference: in the morning, wine to look forward to; at night, wine to actually drink. Without my sign posts, I don’t know the script!

I haven’t EVER socialized in a new city without booze. ALL of my new connections, whether professional or personal, have almost always started around “drinks.” I don’t know how to do it differently. Yet, I do. Pick up the phone. Grow a pair. Just do it.

Anyway, it felt good tonight to see that I’ve actually made a few friends at AA; like, these people are becoming my friends, more than just 2D cartoon characters whose sad faces don’t resemble mine. Here’s to some future social events where cravings and triggers are NOT invited! 😉

Btw, friends: 7 meetings down, 28 days sober! Woo hoo!

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

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

Hello, Higher Power, it’s me, Drunky Drunk Girl!

7 Nov

11:03 pm

Today. Jesus. I try, I really do, but I lose perspective when I’m PMSing. A’ll I’ll say is, the week or weeks before my period, I just go mad. Back pain flares, my sugar cravings intensify, and today, a week late, I’m crying on the hillside under a blazing sun in the middle of the day.

“God,” I commanded, with about as much serenity as a hammer, “fucking HELP.” Then, I stopped along the side of the road and cried. And, did I even make it look dramatic for, well, drama’s sake? NO. Did I sit down, hold my head in my hands, and weep uncontrollably? Nope. I just sort of mumbled and stumbled and decided to walk home because the tears and sunscreen were making my eyes burn.

Not three minutes later, as I’m descending the hill toward our house’s road, my neighbor drives up out of hers. So, my neighbor is one of the most “conscious” women I know, and at 29, one of the oldest souls I know. This girl is NEVER not radiating joy. I mean, it’s almost funny, and I don’t know if she was born that way or just works extra hard at cultivating nirvana — or both — but man, her energy is simple, direct, and uplifting. Anyway, I see my neighbor, and we chat for a few minutes, and then she drives away. Coincidence…or direct intervention by my as yet unknown HP? Hmm…

After that boost, I came home and was able to sit and just let my drama pass. And then I consciously chose to proceed with my day. It wasn’t easy, though. But, like someone in AA advised me to do, I allowed myself to experience the frustration (What am I doing here? What do I have to do that lends my time purpose?), agitation (Am I missing out on life in [cold east coast city]? I feel so far away from “things” there!), and sadness (Have I exited the ring for good? Can I put my boxing gloves back on and restart my professional life, or is it time to move on, at least to a different kind of writing?).

Anyway, the day got better. I spent a few hours at one of my favorite beaches, where I swam/snorkeled. It reminded me of why I’m here and what matters, which is appreciating the beauty of the water and coral, the ability to swim, and the bliss of being alone doing so.

And, I realized again that I am way too hard on myself. I get so down on myself for what I DON’T have in my life (kids, a house, a boring job). What about what I do have? Independence, intelligence, experiences galore, my life here, a budding (if I actually water it) freelance career, friends, love, AA, my sobriety and blossoming self-understanding beyond what I thought was possible even a few months ago. My present calm and acceptance. My future. I could like, go back to school for public health, anthropology, or marine biology; I could do some cool shit like research, travel, dig, dive along coral reefs. I could write, fund personal projects, rebuild a house, plant a garden, raise goats, volunteer and travel, have kids or adopt them! WHAT IS SO BAD ABOUT MY LIFE?

And, I had a somewhat strange realization (well, I had it after my AA meeting tonight, where I’ve decided to Take It Easy, come to meetings and not drink; and not beat myself up about not doing anything more than that at the moment): I am an alcoholic because I say I am an alcoholic. And, with the help of peeps in the meetings, who sound just like me, I am (almost) convinced of that. I don’t have to consult with others, compare myself to others, incorporate what anyone else says about me or my “problem” into my thoughts and reflections, dreams or goals. And, this is a good thing! I don’t have to feel bad about it because I’m not doing it out of spite, or as a way to cut people out; I’m doing it because I’ve arrived at a point along the way to enlightenment, which is, to me, a form of surrender = I can’t care anymore what anyone else does or thinks, and that includes what anyone thinks about my drinking and/or my being a drunk.

For a long time, up until, um, probably tonight, I’ve been wondering: am I really an alcoholic? I often look back and remember not ONE person except my current boyfriend telling me to go to AA. And, there were a lot of friends who either drank with me or knew I drank WAY too much, too often, and dangerously. I ask myself why was that? Was it because they were clueless, or had their own problems? Sure. Was it because they didn’t want me to get better as that meant losing a drinking buddy as well as losing someone who made them feel better about their own shenanigans? Probably. Was it because none of them really, truly thought I was an alcoholic, based on what seems to be a circulating presumption about the definition of “alcoholic” but what doesn’t come close to what it actually means? Yes.

You’re an alcoholic if you say you are, I’ve realized. And this, my friends, is a good thing to know! Before, I would have said, I’m NOT an alcoholic. Now, I know I am. What that means for me in the larger sense, I have yet to find out. What that means in terms of my future drinking habits, I have yet to find out. Meetings and hearing others like myself have made me see it for a fact. But, it’s my own conclusion that matters, and noting that will help me move forward dealing with it on my own without having to explain it to others, or involve them, on a certain level. I guess I’ve discovered boundaries. Yay!

Chocolate time. I’d love a glass of red wine, too. Le sigh.

Tags: 12 steps, AA, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, beach, binge drinking, coping mechanism, coping skills, depression, drinking, drinking buddies, gratitude, recovery, snorkeling, sobriety, triggers, wine, women

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Categories 12 Steps, AA, Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Depression, Gratitude, Higher Power, nature, Recovery, Sobriety, Triggers

Too much thinkin’ about drinkin’, says Drunky Drunk Girl!

31 Oct

5:29 pm

And, I suppose that’s better than thinkin’ AND drinkin’.

I don’t know about all this constant thinking — ruminating, actually — on drinking. Since I’ve quit, begun this blog, and started going to AA meetings, all I do is think about drinking! Sure, I don’t drink, but I still think about it. In fact, what’s the point of quitting if you have to continually THINK about it?

I’ve been somewhat overwhelmed by my thoughts the past few days, so I feel all a’jumble today. BUT, I wanted to say howdy and try to share a few of those thoughts, at least (warning: long post ahead).

On a positive note, I picked a sponsor today. Well, “picked” might be stretching it. It was sort of a random choice, and now I’m regretting it. I might hit up another woman, whom I feel more of a connection with and who goes to more meetings with me than the other (stranger) woman. I think I just got caught up in the moment this morning; or, I was impatient and wanted to stop sitting on the fence and JUST DO IT. In any case, she gave me some “official” reading material, and if there’s one thing I’m good at — besides overthinking — it’s reading material.

Anyway, based of some of the topics and shares at the past few AA meetings I’ve been to, I’ve been thinking about the following:

1. Bondage to self, or self-centeredness. It was a topic at one of the meetings, like many of these next points. My question remains: Where does self-centeredness end and self-effacement begin? Which is more or less healthy, and for me, a trigger? I am surely selfish and self-centered like the rest, but sometimes (maybe 50% at least), I drank to make myself numb to my doormat qualities, my inability to stand up for what I truly want, and my insecurity (I don’t feel like I deserve that what I truly want). I think some people drink more as the result of one versus the other, and in meetings, it seems that everyone who shares drank because they were selfish bastards. I don’t think my primary motivating factor was to be a selfish bastard, to party, to get high; I think it was to self-medicate.

2. Drinking to get drunk versus drinking to self-medicate. In meetings, it seems that a LOT of folks, especially the older men, drank to drink. To get drunk, to avoid their lives and problems and emotional blocks, whatever. I drank a lot of the time to feel better in my head. Sure, I drank to zone out, but I also drank to feel less static in my brain, to improve my mood, to make me feel like life was spectacular and not existentially ridiculous, to have something to look forward to because at that moment — in those moments — I don’t feel like doing or thinking or being anything. And then I feel bad (see point 1 above) about wasting time, and I feel even worse. But, it’s a particular need to not lubricate, but mend something inside. An existential rip in the seam of life, as it were. Now, I see that maybe I need not only a huge sense of purpose, but antidepressants. Endorphins of the highest order. Cookies and cake and loads of caffeine are not cutting it, I’m sorry.

3. Doing too little versus having an overwhelming sense of purpose and doing too much/what I “should;” unable to relax. Me, the latter, as you can guess. I am task-oriented, so it helps me to not drink if I have an 18-hour day planned. That’s why [cold east coast city] was so good for me. YET…isn’t that worse? Is being a workaholic better or worse for you than being an alcoholic? I’ve reconciled my need to “scratch that itch” with my desire to drink; I am what I am, and if my definition of “fun” and “productive” are unusually severe, then so be it. There is that work-life balance thing, though, which I never quite got, and am not sure I ever will. It’s very difficult for me to relax, to “not be productive.” I’m sure it is for many people, but they don’t consider it a problem. Is it, if it makes you feel uber-good about life?

4. Thinking yourself out of drinking versus giving your will “over” to a “higher power.” CONTRARY to what I assumed after going to all these meetings, everyone (based on today’s meeting) is like me in that they, too, have to think through it in order to convince themselves not to drink when they want to. I found this confusing, relative to what AA says, which is to give it up to “God.” If all y’all are rationalizing your urges away, then where does direct intervention and taking away of obsession by a higher power come in?

(I found it astonishing that quite a few people in AA said their cravings/urges/obsession disappeared almost immediately. You must not be drinkin’ red wine, is all I can think to say.)

5. AA meetings make me want to drink. And, someone said today: The only time I actually think about drinking anymore is when I’m here, at a meeting! Tell it, brotha.

6. “God” is what happens, what occurs, between and among other beings, whether human or animals. It’s not an outside force, per se, but something that comes from within and that is born through relating to and realtionships with other living creatures, including plants. WE are god, individually and collectively. Maybe I’ve just done a step here? 😉

Sometimes I think this whole thing is just overblown. Sure, I did some bad shit, but it’s grapes, people. Just grapes. Then again, I know that a sense of purpose is what saves me, that getting outside my head helps me, that staying in the moment through journaling and working and doing things like running and playing guitar improves my sense of belonging in the world. I know that swimming among massive swells at a local beach makes me feel strangely connected to a deep, abiding “aliveness,” that being a body of water which is large and ancient and powerful beyond what I can imagine — and that makes me feel, ironically, calm and safe and protected from myself, from my small ego.

Sometimes I want to conclude that I am a binge drinker who is depressed/obsessed by existential crises (choices, work versus play, meaning of life, death). Does that mean I need to work the steps and continue to ruminate, lifelong, on a problem? Can’t I simply solve it (don’t drink)? Then again, if I’m truly honest — and feeling good about life, which generally speaking, I have been since June 13th — I can see how those steps can only help me move forward. They can only help, if I’m humble and embrace them without my ego and mindedness getting in the way. And, then again again, DOES IT REALLY MATTER WHAT YOU “ARE” IF BEING SOBER, EVEN IF IT TAKES WORK, MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER AND MAKES YOUR LIFE BETTER? I would have to say, an obvious no.

And, dun dun dun: 21 days as of tomorrow! And, while I’ve thought about drinking a glass of wine, I really haven’t wanted to. Like, I haven’t felt like it. I feel calmer in the face of everything — work, moving, relationship, existential nonsense — that made me feel like drinking before. I feel calmer and more apt to say, Nah, instead of, OMG, YES. I don’t want to gloat, though, so I’ll sign off for now.

Here’s to all my sober buddies in the blogosphere — thanks to you all for being my support group and sounding board.

Tags: 12 steps, AA, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, binge drinking, cravings, depression, drinking, goals, psychology, recovery, sense of purpose, sobriety, triggers, wine, women

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Categories 12 Steps, AA, Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Psychology, Recovery, Sobriety

Anyone up for a sober conference? Promises in Paradise is where it’s at!

25 Oct

2:29 am

There’s a conference on [beautiful island where I now live] this weekend called “Promises in Paradise,” which is basically a weekend-long AA meeting. Not sure if I can swallow it just yet; I mean, I still sort of cry inside every time I think, island + wine + DDG = null set.

Ah, well. Maybe, like my boyfriend says, I should fill up my wine glass with chilled rooibos tea — my current obsession — instead of wine?

Today was OK; nothing Earth-shattering. Which, in a way, bums me out. (I think I just have to get used to having settled in, and not, like, continuously moving around and looking forward to being somewhere else — or do I? I’m already looking forward to trips to PR, D, and H!) I had an interview with a possible fourth client, and that went well. I must say, this freelance thing takes a lot of patience, as there isn’t as much measurable output as one might need to feel productive. AND, it just takes a lot of time linking up with people and arranging work. I feel somewhat blah about this next project, but I’m sure I’ll rally.

No meeting for me today — figured I’d be able to OD on meetings this weekend if I end up hitting that conference. (And, why not? It’s right around the corner and how cool will I be when I get to tell people that I actually LIVE in said paradise?). I ended up spending the evening cleaning and unpacking! It feels GREAT to have my closet a little bit more organized, to have the bags off the floor and the sheets and towels and underwear in their right place. Yet…

Always a yet. Why can’t I just be happy with what is? Settling in makes me feel unsettled, that’s just a given. I am a restless mofo, and I know this about myself. It’s one of the reasons I drank. Speaking of which, at last night’s meeting, one woman shared that her biggest obstacle to acceptance was that she didn’t like the 21st century! LOL I could relate; I mean, we all have our “head” issues, our perceptions of reality that make us feel crazy/weird being human. Mine is information overload and an inability to “see through” the physical reality around me. More often than not, I would drink out of anxiety and frustration surrounding these glitches.

Anyway, yup, always in my head! Oh, well, that’s what this blog is for. Anyway…I miss my stuff in [cold east coast city]. I miss…my life. In [cold east coast city]? I’m not sure. I feel…like I’m floating. Maybe it’s time for a “real” job; it’s cool to have reached my goal of earning a living as a freelance writer, but I know — have known for a while — that it’s not something that I find all that rewarding anymore, writing/editing, and there are other things I know I’d like to spend my time doing.

All in due time. One day at a time. I have trouble with this, so I’m just going to calmly shut my laptop and Turn It Off.

Oh, and: 14 days, kids! And, really, very little desire to drink; very large desire to keep working, moving forward, and keeping the “wine gut” to a bare minimum (I think I can safely transition to using the more aptly named “blueberry muffin gut” now).

Tags: 12 steps, AA, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, binge drinking, drinking, freelance writing, goals, moving, Promises in Paradise, recovery, sobriety, travel, triggers, wine, women

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Categories 12 Steps, AA, Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Goals, Recovery, Sobriety, Work, Writing

And, I’m back…

27 Sep

11:26 pm

I had to take a little break from blogging the past two days, mainly because I’ve been feeling a bit…overexposed. (And busy selling off the rest of my furniture, booking flights, running last-minute errands, working here and there as it goes). Oh, and I also drank. TWICE.

Blarg! IT’S 100% NOT FUN ANYMORE.

I guess I don’t really know how to explain my choice to drink twice this week except for one, I’ve already broken my count so why not, and two, I wanted to “see how it felt.” Usually when I drink, it’s in response to feeling horrible, depressed, and/or desperate! Actually, I can’t remember the last time I drank when I didn’t feel like that. Anyway, I didn’t feel that way Tuesday night or Wednesday night; I felt more or less like I could take it or leave it. (If I’m honest, I think I just WANTED to. BUT, I wasn’t desperate for it.) I haven’t drunk for so long in that mindset that I was like, Well, I wonder how it — drinking — would feel if I actually didn’t go overboard? (I had absolutely no intention of inducing the same kind of hangover I had last week, that I knew.)

Well? It didn’t feel good. In fact, it’s reinforced more my desire to not drink, and to build on what I’ve accomplished both mentally and physically over the past three months. I’m feeling the worst about breaking down, slowly but surely, what I’ve built; I work hard, and I hate to see good work go to waste. KEEP THE FAITH, I keep telling myself. THINK BACK, I say, to all those nights in [cold east coast city], all those days when you were detoxing and feeling shiteous, all those moments you had to fight so hard to not run out and get a bottle. THOSE DAYS ARE GONE. However, I can see them returning if I sneak behind my back and drink once, twice, now three, then four times a week… You can see where it’s headed; so can I.

The first night I ordered Indian food and had three glasses. I was REALLY drunky drunk after just those three, so much so that I could barely think clearly enough to book flights. It was weird; I felt more or less mentally compromised to the point of having no functioning thought process. Not fun. AND, I felt so gross that night. One of those nights where you don’t drink enough to pass out, but you drink enough to feel totally gross, toss and turn, and feel every single ounce of ethanol pass through every single cell of your liver…for hours and hours. AND, I was hung over before I even went to bed. Bleh!

The next night, same thing (with the spicy Indian food), but I downed a whole bottle. I was hung over today, and it was not fun. Not as bad as the other day, but yeah. What stopped me from overdoing it beyond a bottle was the conditioning after last week’s bender (where I blacked out and broke my glasses) — I am literally AFRAID of having a hangover like that again.

So, no, thanks.

I’m not that disappointed, as it’s just another step forward in further convincing myself — and strengthening my resolve — to not drink. If it doesn’t work anymore, there really is zero point in doing it. It’s almost like caffeinated coffee, which for me has become a distant (albeit sweet) memory: back when I had my first panic attack in 2005, I had to stop drinking coffee altogether. The panic attack seemed to have “rewired” my brain, is all I can say. I used to be a coffee FIEND, but now, it just feels like someone turned a radio station to static in my brain. I haven’t had a cup of coffee since that day in November, going on 7 years ago. I would love to, but it just doesn’t work the way it used to. I’d never go back, though, let me tell you. No more ups and downs; no more sour stomach; no more extreme hunger pangs. Sure, I don’t get to get buzzed, but that’s OK, too, especially when it comes to sounding NOT like a total meth-head when I’m talking, interviewing, and/or writing. 😉

So, moving along. Starting over. Realizing that there are big things that need to be passed over and MUCH bigger things that lie in wait. This little hamster-depression-wheel can only whir for so long before LIFE, in all its actual glory, shines through and makes drinking grape water so…boring. (Although, there IS still a small(ish) pocket of brain cells whining in the background, But, maybe… Maybe it was this one time, or maybe it’s PMS fucking with the way it works, or maybe I just need to drink with people, or, I know, maybe I need to drink in a geographical location where the fog particles aren’t messing with the alcohol content…Huh?)

SHUT UP! 😉

(What am I, Gollum? My PRECIOUS. Jesus, get ahold of yourself, woman!)

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, binge drinking, cravings, drinking, hangover, hung over, psychology, recovery, sobriety, triggers, wine, women

Comments 9 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Cravings, Psychology, Recovery, Sobriety, Triggers, Uncategorized

Do I isolate because I drink, or drink because I feel isolated?

3 Sep

12:20 am

I actually had to look up “isolation” right now:

to isolate: to set or place apart; detach or separate so as to be alone.

I think my single biggest trigger — well, one of maybe two, the second being avoidance/fear — is feeling alone. Lonely, yes. But also alone. Terribly alone. Isolated. Separate from my friends, my family, a community. I want to be part of it and them, but I can’t. So I drink. The more I drink, the more I’m apart from it, and I feel even more alone! Now, I feel helpless to become part of it and them, and therefore, I feel anxious. So I drink. It makes me feel warm, erases the anxiety that starts deep in my belly, numbs my mind, and transforms — magic! — the sad thoughts to happy ones. At least, happy for the next three hours or so.

In [cold west coast city], where I live, I always feel like an outsider looking in. It makes me want to drink. So, the question is, do I drink because I feel alone, or have I isolated myself because of my drinking? It’s hard to tell here, primarily because, stone-cold sober for almost 90 days (minus 2!), I still feel lonely, melancholy, and shut out. I don’t sense anyone wanting to reach out. I don’t want to reach out, I don’t want to try with people here anymore. People here are weird and awkward on good days, bitchy and cold on bad. Maybe I’m too old to make the kind of friendships I made in my 20s and early 30s? Or, maybe I’m just projecting a bad attitude because I’ve been isolating for so long as a drunk that I simply haven’t given solid friendships a real go? (There’s still that possibility, and I keep it alive because I guess I like banging my head against a brick wall. I mean, I’ve lived here 8 years and I’ve heard the “it’s so hard to meet people here” complaint SO many times, it makes me shake my head and simply nod in sympathy.)

Anyway, I’ve very often wondered about the phenomenon of moving away from your nuclear family here, in the US. We move away after college and move in with strangers. We make a family based on loose ties with coworkers, friends of friends, and our significant other’s “extended family.” We live alone, some of us to our absolute detriment.

I got a sense of just how ill this seems to me when I volunteered in [beautiful island]. Long story short, I was with a large (30 – 100) group of other volunteers, and we lived, ate, slept, and worked together 24-7. I have never felt more alive, content, joyous. THIS is how one was supposed to live, I remember declaring, deciding from that point forward that how we lived here, in the West, was wrong; that we needed to return to our traditional, community-based (i.e., African) roots. This was IT, as far as I was concerned, in terms of living close to home, salt of the earth.

My family was close. We did much together, talked about almost everything — my mom made sure of that. At home, I slept very close to my brothers growing up, in the same room, so to speak, for years. We saw both my parent’s sides a lot, heard many stories and much gossip about everyone, young, old, alive, and dead. My mom’s dad moved in with us when he got ill, even passing away in a home in our town, not the bigger city where he was born and raised. I would page through black and white photos of both my mom and dad’s side of the family, some dating back to the early 1800s, every chance I got growing up. I was the family’s little historian.

Now? I haven’t seen most of my extended family in years. I almost never see my last remaining grandparent. I didn’t even go to my paternal grandfather’s funeral! (I do regret this, but what can I do about it now?) I’ve lived in maybe 25 apartments in the past 20 or so years. On and on, I keep moving. Is this normal? Seems like no! Maybe it’s just who I am, a restless, inquiring nomad? Or, maybe it’s the search that drives me, or the anxiety I experience (that also causes me to drink) when I feel the “need” to move on? It’s ironic, considering that I grew up on a farm, was instilled with fairly solid Midwestern values, and my dad still lives on the farm — he’s been there since 1979. I still call the same phone number.

I know I’ve probably brought this on myself, this sense of detachment, but did I have a choice? Sure, I could’ve stayed at home, but come on, what was I going to do in Breederville? Get married and pop out 15 kids? No, thank you! It’s just that there was a price to pay for moving around a lot in pursuit of happiness, independence, meaning, and my dreams, and that has been this growing sense of isolation.

It’s not just me, I know. Still, living in a studio, while nice, isn’t real life. It isn’t good living. On one hand, I have no one to answer to. On the other, I have no one to care about, no one keeping tabs on me, no one to cook for, no one to “normalize” what often can turn into obsessive and/or compulsive behavior when we’re alone.

The worst part about separating from family to the extent that we do, in my view, is that we don’t have a home. There is no longer a place, a group of people, a sense of community that offers unequivocal belonging and maybe even unconditional love. And without this, one feels unsafe. Insecure. Floating with no sense of something bigger than oneself. No one to consult on the daily trials and tribulations of life, let alone the bigger existential questions. No one to check our drinking, to explain our depression (So and so had a drinking problem, remember him?)…

I talked to my dad tonight, sober, of course (yay!). It was hard, as usual, as he’s been depressed for years. He put up a good front when I told him I was coming home for a few days at the end of the month before I move yet again! (I’ve officially given notice on my place here — glad to have finally made a decision — and will be heading back to [beautiful island where I now live] for a while to…further explore my options/job search/etc. More on this in another post, I guess.) Yet, when he told me that my step-mom’s mom had hip surgery today, I was shocked. How did I not know that she had fallen and broken her hip? When he told me that he has to have cataract surgery, I was speechless. What? How come no one told me?

I should call more often, sure, and answer my phone — stop isolating myself, I suppose. It’s hard to tell sometimes, though, how much of this I should blame on myself; how much I should resent them for kind of stigmatizing me because I didn’t stick around and live a terribly traditional (and tragic, I’m sorry) life in rural America, like ALL of my step-siblings and cousins; and how much I should just chalk it up to a sign of the times?

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

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

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Drunky Drunk Girl

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Drunky Drunk Girl

Cravings and triggers…

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Hello, Higher Power, it’s me, Drunky Drunk Girl!

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Too much thinkin’ about drinkin’, says Drunky Drunk Girl!

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Anyone up for a sober conference? Promises in Paradise is where it’s at!

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And, I’m back…

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Do I isolate because I drink, or drink because I feel isolated?

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