I have a niece (I've written about her before) who has been a part of my heart since the day she was born a little over 31 years ago. She was born to my addicted sister when she was 17 which means I was a mere 21. For the last 31 years I have loved that child with every fiber of my being and given her all that I could to make her life as normal as possible.
While she was growing up, we had her every weekend and most of the summer. We funded and cheered her ice skating "career". We were Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny. We made sure she had clothes and books for school. But, most important of all, we gave her a safe place to land. We gave her "home".
Or so I thought...
You see, my niece has the "crazy gene", as my nephew calls it. She has the personality traits that make her behave like my mother and sister. Everything must always be about her. She's a compulsive liar. When she talks about herself she always has the best job, is the most important person in her neighborhood, is a better, mother, churchgoer, worker, student than anyone else. Everything in her life must involve drama or it doesn't hold value for her. She's sneaky and manipulative and will stop at nothing to get what she wants.
The hubs has been telling me about her since she was five years old but I, like most mothers, would hear none of it. I just kept trying to be a better mother to her hoping that love would win out over genetics.
I was wrong.
The older she gets and the older I get, I realize that I love the way I love. I love unconditionally. I don't always love equally (I try) but I love fully and with my entire being. I don't define my love with material things but I try to fullfill wishes and indulge rather than spoil. I respect boundaries but will step in if asked. I listen with my heart and my head and, if asked, will give advice (and sometimes when I'm not asked...d'oh!) No matter what, I am always ready with a warm hug and a kind word. However, if your ass needs kicking then I'll do that too. I'm the mom...it's what I do.
Sadly, it's never enough for my niece. No matter what I do, she needs more and even that is not enough. I recently told her that I was not able to love her any other way. She's convinced that I love "my" kids, or my stepdaughter or my nephew more than I love her. I don't do enough, call enough, send enough money, give enough presents, etc., etc., etc.
All I've got left to give now is love. My love, my way. If that's not enough for her, then so be it. I'm out of options. Life is short and quite frankly, I'm tired.
So I love her for who she is and I no longer take responsibility for her happiness. I used to obesses that she was angry with me or upset or bad talking me but now? Not so much. I am who I am and she is who she is and it's not my fault. I didn't cause it. I can't control it. And it's taken 31 years but I finally know I can cure it.
But I can love it.
Namaste
Showing posts with label alcoholism; recovery; motherhood; addiction; women and alcoholism; aa; clinical depression; do i have a drinking problem; am I drinking too much; coping with motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alcoholism; recovery; motherhood; addiction; women and alcoholism; aa; clinical depression; do i have a drinking problem; am I drinking too much; coping with motherhood. Show all posts
Monday, January 27, 2014
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Getting Pissed
I posted yesterday about being sick but then took it down. No one needs to know THAT much about anyone else. Sorry to those of you unfortunate to read it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Things went very well Friday night. The hubs seemed to have a good time. I eat in places like that all the time for work but he never does so I think it was a really nice change for him. For me...meh. For one thing, I ate too damn much (the dessert was good but definitely overkill), for another...the pangs are still there.
A little clarification here...the pangs are so tiny that they would not be seen by even the Hubble telescope but I still noticed them and they still pissed me off. And made me sad. But mostly pissed. At me. At genetics. At the alcohol industry. At anything. Just pissed.
But that's okay. Being a little pissed off from time to time is good for the soul. It gets the heart pumping, the emotions rolling and the hormones (what few I have left) churning. It reminds me that there are things worth getting pissed off about. Like messing with my family, or injustice, or bullies, or screwing around with my sobriety. Those are the things that I allow to mess with my zen and make me angry. In fact, I'm pretty sure in the "How to Behave Like a Good Human" book (publisher...God) it states that you should get pissed off about shit like that. Because getting pissed inspires you to take action, to do something about that which is pissing you off. Am I right? Hell yeah! Oh..sorry...got a little carried away there for a sec. Carry on.
Of course, it's only good as long as you don't dwell on it too long...as long as you recognize it, review it, feel it, take action if necessary AND THEN LET IT GO.
So I took action. I shook my head, smiled at my adoring husband and ordered dessert. Because there is no greater weapon against being pissed off at alcoholism for me than a good dessert. See, when I drank I never ordered dessert. And, even though it was overkill...I ate it. Then I smiled inwardly because I know I am one badass motherfucking sober ninja lady and wine's got nothin' on me. I got skills and I know how to use them.
Namaste
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Things went very well Friday night. The hubs seemed to have a good time. I eat in places like that all the time for work but he never does so I think it was a really nice change for him. For me...meh. For one thing, I ate too damn much (the dessert was good but definitely overkill), for another...the pangs are still there.
A little clarification here...the pangs are so tiny that they would not be seen by even the Hubble telescope but I still noticed them and they still pissed me off. And made me sad. But mostly pissed. At me. At genetics. At the alcohol industry. At anything. Just pissed.
But that's okay. Being a little pissed off from time to time is good for the soul. It gets the heart pumping, the emotions rolling and the hormones (what few I have left) churning. It reminds me that there are things worth getting pissed off about. Like messing with my family, or injustice, or bullies, or screwing around with my sobriety. Those are the things that I allow to mess with my zen and make me angry. In fact, I'm pretty sure in the "How to Behave Like a Good Human" book (publisher...God) it states that you should get pissed off about shit like that. Because getting pissed inspires you to take action, to do something about that which is pissing you off. Am I right? Hell yeah! Oh..sorry...got a little carried away there for a sec. Carry on.
Of course, it's only good as long as you don't dwell on it too long...as long as you recognize it, review it, feel it, take action if necessary AND THEN LET IT GO.
So I took action. I shook my head, smiled at my adoring husband and ordered dessert. Because there is no greater weapon against being pissed off at alcoholism for me than a good dessert. See, when I drank I never ordered dessert. And, even though it was overkill...I ate it. Then I smiled inwardly because I know I am one badass motherfucking sober ninja lady and wine's got nothin' on me. I got skills and I know how to use them.
Namaste
Friday, January 17, 2014
Date Night
I've written about this many times before, but date night for the hubs and I always revolved around alcohol...well...at least for me it did.
Back in the 80's we partied pretty hardy almost every night. If we weren't with a group of friends at a happy hour that stretched long into the night, we were at a restaurant having a 4-hour dinner where I talked and he listened. We drank a lot back then and somehow lived to tell the tale (in spite of my alcoholism and the hubs' bypass surgery a few years ago).
After the kids were born we did date night once a month and then, after they got older, once a week. I told myself it was "our" time together which it was, but it was also my time with the wine since I didn't drink at home back then. We tried to do dinner but later just ended up hanging out a bars where we could grab a bite and talk until it was time to go home. I still love a good bar - I don't go into them much - but I just love the look and feel of them.
The hubs quit drinking long before I did. He would take me out on date night but only have one, maybe two V.O.'s and Coke and those he ordered in a tall glass so he got more soda with each shot of booze. I didn't see then that he was just indulging my need to get shit faced and spill my guts. Or just get shit faced because looking back I realize that it was way more about the wine then it was about the conversation. I just wanted to drink and going out made it seem okay.
Since I quit drinking, I've tried to reestablish date night. We've tried dinner, movies, even pottery painting. Nothing really worked. Nothing felt as good as just sitting home together watching television. (I KNOW RIGHT!) I remember the first time we went out to dinner after I really got sober. There are no words to express how uncomfortable I was. Between the calories, the money we were spending and the fact that there was only diet coke in my glass, I couldn't wait to get the hell out of there and back to the safety of my home.
Well boys and girls, we're giving it another shot. I've come up with a plan to jump start this whole date night thing and see where it goes. Every two weeks, payday weeks to be specific, we're going out to dinner. We're going as soon as I leave work because if I go home first...I'll never leave. We're going to try new restaurants (that I get to pick...yay) and see how it feels. Try it on for size.
If it feels forced or uncomfortable then we won't do it anymore. If it feels fun and exciting then we'll keep going. If we end up staring across the table at each other with nothing to say then I'm going to have to revisit the entire concept of date night, my marriage and my reason for existence on the planet.
Just kidding...about the last part anyway.
Because here is what sobriety and age have taught me. I do not have to do anything I don't want to do. I don't have to pretend that I like something simply because some pencil-necked, know-it-all that needs a biscuit says I should like it. I don't have to feel like a loser because I like sitting home at night, in my big green chair and watching television with the man who has put up with my shit for 30 years just because some lame FaceBook or Twitter article says I should. And I don't have to pretend to be an extrovert and the life of the party just because society says that's what is acceptable.
Society can eat me.
And what's more, I don't have to make excuses for not doing any of that shit. "We don't really have the money," or "I'm so tired after work," or "We're so busy on the weekends." What a load of bullshit.
How's this...
Date night is spending time with the man I love doing whatever the hell it is we want to do. All that matters is that at least one of us has a good time (because marriage is a compromise) and I don't drink.
That's it! Simple stupid. Now if you'll excuse me, my ride is here.
Have a great weekend everyone!
Namaste
Back in the 80's we partied pretty hardy almost every night. If we weren't with a group of friends at a happy hour that stretched long into the night, we were at a restaurant having a 4-hour dinner where I talked and he listened. We drank a lot back then and somehow lived to tell the tale (in spite of my alcoholism and the hubs' bypass surgery a few years ago).
After the kids were born we did date night once a month and then, after they got older, once a week. I told myself it was "our" time together which it was, but it was also my time with the wine since I didn't drink at home back then. We tried to do dinner but later just ended up hanging out a bars where we could grab a bite and talk until it was time to go home. I still love a good bar - I don't go into them much - but I just love the look and feel of them.
The hubs quit drinking long before I did. He would take me out on date night but only have one, maybe two V.O.'s and Coke and those he ordered in a tall glass so he got more soda with each shot of booze. I didn't see then that he was just indulging my need to get shit faced and spill my guts. Or just get shit faced because looking back I realize that it was way more about the wine then it was about the conversation. I just wanted to drink and going out made it seem okay.
Since I quit drinking, I've tried to reestablish date night. We've tried dinner, movies, even pottery painting. Nothing really worked. Nothing felt as good as just sitting home together watching television. (I KNOW RIGHT!) I remember the first time we went out to dinner after I really got sober. There are no words to express how uncomfortable I was. Between the calories, the money we were spending and the fact that there was only diet coke in my glass, I couldn't wait to get the hell out of there and back to the safety of my home.
Well boys and girls, we're giving it another shot. I've come up with a plan to jump start this whole date night thing and see where it goes. Every two weeks, payday weeks to be specific, we're going out to dinner. We're going as soon as I leave work because if I go home first...I'll never leave. We're going to try new restaurants (that I get to pick...yay) and see how it feels. Try it on for size.
If it feels forced or uncomfortable then we won't do it anymore. If it feels fun and exciting then we'll keep going. If we end up staring across the table at each other with nothing to say then I'm going to have to revisit the entire concept of date night, my marriage and my reason for existence on the planet.
Just kidding...about the last part anyway.
Because here is what sobriety and age have taught me. I do not have to do anything I don't want to do. I don't have to pretend that I like something simply because some pencil-necked, know-it-all that needs a biscuit says I should like it. I don't have to feel like a loser because I like sitting home at night, in my big green chair and watching television with the man who has put up with my shit for 30 years just because some lame FaceBook or Twitter article says I should. And I don't have to pretend to be an extrovert and the life of the party just because society says that's what is acceptable.
Society can eat me.
And what's more, I don't have to make excuses for not doing any of that shit. "We don't really have the money," or "I'm so tired after work," or "We're so busy on the weekends." What a load of bullshit.
How's this...
Date night is spending time with the man I love doing whatever the hell it is we want to do. All that matters is that at least one of us has a good time (because marriage is a compromise) and I don't drink.
That's it! Simple stupid. Now if you'll excuse me, my ride is here.
Have a great weekend everyone!
Namaste
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Refuge From the Storm
Last night one of my son's woke me at 2:30 to tell me that the young girl up the street (17) was spending the night because her mother had thrown her out of the house. Her mother drinks. The child has no idea how to cope. Her mother is violent. Child Protective Services has been called and the mother has been warned. Apparently it doesn't matter. She stayed in my other son's room for the night.
But on the way to work this morning I told the hubs that I didn't want him alone in the house with her. I've told my boys that as well. The mother is crazy and I wouldn't put it past her to accuse my men of something because she's angry that we took in her daughter at 2:30 in the freaking morning!
Because clearly it makes perfect sense to put a child out on the street at 2:30 in the morning in the middle of winter. And believe me, no matter how old they think they are, at 17 they are still children.
Clearly it makes sense to be drunk at 2:30 in the morning and arguing with your 17 year old who should be in bed because she has school the next day.
I'm no genius but having been on that side of the wine bottle many times, never violent but also never in my right mind, and the fact that the young girl showed up at our door in tears and stone cold sober...well, let's just say I had no problem taking her in at that hour.
Here's what is amazing to me. No one was out looking for her. At least no one knocked on my door. Let me assure you, no matter how drunk I was, if I thought my child was out there in the cold night somewhere I'd not only be knocking on doors, I'd be knocking them down. And then I'd call the cops and get them to knock down some doors.
I don't know. Maybe she texted her mom and told her she was safe. Maybe her mom passed out. Maybe her step dad miraculously grew a pair and made the mom go to bed and then texted the girl to check on her. Doubtful...but maybe.
In any event, I hope that things have been worked out but if they haven't, she's welcome to stay as long as she needs. Because I can't fix her fucked up family, but I can offer refuge from the storm, a hug to make her feel welcome and an ear to listen if she wants to talk.
Namaste
But on the way to work this morning I told the hubs that I didn't want him alone in the house with her. I've told my boys that as well. The mother is crazy and I wouldn't put it past her to accuse my men of something because she's angry that we took in her daughter at 2:30 in the freaking morning!
Because clearly it makes perfect sense to put a child out on the street at 2:30 in the morning in the middle of winter. And believe me, no matter how old they think they are, at 17 they are still children.
Clearly it makes sense to be drunk at 2:30 in the morning and arguing with your 17 year old who should be in bed because she has school the next day.
I'm no genius but having been on that side of the wine bottle many times, never violent but also never in my right mind, and the fact that the young girl showed up at our door in tears and stone cold sober...well, let's just say I had no problem taking her in at that hour.
Here's what is amazing to me. No one was out looking for her. At least no one knocked on my door. Let me assure you, no matter how drunk I was, if I thought my child was out there in the cold night somewhere I'd not only be knocking on doors, I'd be knocking them down. And then I'd call the cops and get them to knock down some doors.
I don't know. Maybe she texted her mom and told her she was safe. Maybe her mom passed out. Maybe her step dad miraculously grew a pair and made the mom go to bed and then texted the girl to check on her. Doubtful...but maybe.
In any event, I hope that things have been worked out but if they haven't, she's welcome to stay as long as she needs. Because I can't fix her fucked up family, but I can offer refuge from the storm, a hug to make her feel welcome and an ear to listen if she wants to talk.
Namaste
Sunday, January 5, 2014
I'm Okay; You're Okay
I knew when the "holiday season" took off that I'd be doing another Whole 30 to jump start 2014. I felt sooooo good at the end of the last one and I've remained cognizant of everything I put in my mouth since then. There's nothing new there really, I've always been hyper aware of what I ate because I was counting every freaking calorie and exercising my butt off.
Okay let's be honest - you can replace "hyper aware" with obsessive. I mean that's what it was. I was completely obsessive. But I've spent the last year or so really examining what this kind of thinking has done to me and how I can approach myself in a kinder way. How I can come to a place of acceptance for who I am, exactly as I am. That's been a huge part of my recovery. After I took away the booze and stripped my soul bare (which is EXACTLY what it felt like) I had no choice but to look closely at who I was and why I did the things I did. More importantly, I had to figure out how to keep the good stuff and ditch the crap.
I've made a great deal of progress with all of this stuff but I continued to struggle with the whole calories, sugar, food, scale, weight, clothing size, etc. and I got tired people...so tired, but I couldn't figure out how to break that freaking cycle. I'd get a little ways toward something only to fall back into old habits at the first speed bump along the way. Situation normal...all fucked up.
But then I found the Whole 30. I can't remember where I saw it first but I know it was on one of the blogs I read daily. One of you beautiful, wonderful souls (byebyebeer? runningonsober? karen?) talked about it and planted a seed and it grew. And I did it. And I felt FANTASTIC.
And I broke the cycle.
I stopped obsessing about how I looked and started caring about what I was putting into my body and what it was doing to the inside rather than the outside. I started paying attention to how I felt rather than how I looked.
Un-fucking-believable.
So I'm actually anxious to detox from a wonderful holiday season. Because let's be clear, I don't regret one single thing I ate. I enjoyed myself. I loved cooking for my family and baking the "once a year" treats. I loved not worrying about my diet because I knew that it was only temporary. It was a treat. And that's OKAY.
And now I'm ready to get right back on that Whole 30 horse. Tomorrow morning I'll be
practicing clean eating once again (this time no cheats...maybe...we'll see) for 30 days. After 30 days I'll continue by adding things back slowly, if necessary, and avoiding sugar as much as possible. And get this...I'm EXCITED. (Who the hell am I?)
As far as exercise for the new year...I've had to come to terms with some things. I've been trying my best to learn to run but I've been thwarted by a bum knee as a result of extra weight and 20 years of high impact aerobics. Both my Athletic Trainer son and my doctor have told me not to even think about running (on pavement which rules out my daydreams of half-marathons and triathlons). Elliptical, walking, yoga and strength training are okay as long as I modify things like squats and lunges. The damage is done. My knee is old which makes me feel old but I'm not going to let it get me down. I love to walk (I mean love to walk) so that's what I'll do. I'm still wearing my FitBit and logging about 7,000 steps a day which I'll bump to 10,000 as soon as possible. Add to that the yoga, some Advil and an ice pack and I'll be okay.
I've also made a pact that I intend to keep no matter what. I got on the scale on 1/1/14. I recorded that number. I do not plan to step on that motherfucker again until 12/31/14. Breaking. The. Cycle.
This is going to be an okay year. I've come so far in my recovery (next week I'll be four years sober) and I've made great progress in understanding who I am and what I want. I'm also beginning to understand that I am okay and that, no matter what happens this year, I will continue to be okay as long as I stay connected to what's important in life. Things like God, family, friends, truth, love, kindness...and our dogs. Everything else is secondary. As long as I maintain an open heart...it will all be okay. It may not always be great, or fantastic or wonderful but it will also not always be shitty or hard or ugly. It is what it is and that's all that it is and that is OKAY.
Jeez...I'm rambling...guess I'm a little out of practice since my hiatus.
Namaste
Okay let's be honest - you can replace "hyper aware" with obsessive. I mean that's what it was. I was completely obsessive. But I've spent the last year or so really examining what this kind of thinking has done to me and how I can approach myself in a kinder way. How I can come to a place of acceptance for who I am, exactly as I am. That's been a huge part of my recovery. After I took away the booze and stripped my soul bare (which is EXACTLY what it felt like) I had no choice but to look closely at who I was and why I did the things I did. More importantly, I had to figure out how to keep the good stuff and ditch the crap.
I've made a great deal of progress with all of this stuff but I continued to struggle with the whole calories, sugar, food, scale, weight, clothing size, etc. and I got tired people...so tired, but I couldn't figure out how to break that freaking cycle. I'd get a little ways toward something only to fall back into old habits at the first speed bump along the way. Situation normal...all fucked up.
But then I found the Whole 30. I can't remember where I saw it first but I know it was on one of the blogs I read daily. One of you beautiful, wonderful souls (byebyebeer? runningonsober? karen?) talked about it and planted a seed and it grew. And I did it. And I felt FANTASTIC.
And I broke the cycle.
I stopped obsessing about how I looked and started caring about what I was putting into my body and what it was doing to the inside rather than the outside. I started paying attention to how I felt rather than how I looked.
Un-fucking-believable.
So I'm actually anxious to detox from a wonderful holiday season. Because let's be clear, I don't regret one single thing I ate. I enjoyed myself. I loved cooking for my family and baking the "once a year" treats. I loved not worrying about my diet because I knew that it was only temporary. It was a treat. And that's OKAY.
And now I'm ready to get right back on that Whole 30 horse. Tomorrow morning I'll be
practicing clean eating once again (this time no cheats...maybe...we'll see) for 30 days. After 30 days I'll continue by adding things back slowly, if necessary, and avoiding sugar as much as possible. And get this...I'm EXCITED. (Who the hell am I?)
As far as exercise for the new year...I've had to come to terms with some things. I've been trying my best to learn to run but I've been thwarted by a bum knee as a result of extra weight and 20 years of high impact aerobics. Both my Athletic Trainer son and my doctor have told me not to even think about running (on pavement which rules out my daydreams of half-marathons and triathlons). Elliptical, walking, yoga and strength training are okay as long as I modify things like squats and lunges. The damage is done. My knee is old which makes me feel old but I'm not going to let it get me down. I love to walk (I mean love to walk) so that's what I'll do. I'm still wearing my FitBit and logging about 7,000 steps a day which I'll bump to 10,000 as soon as possible. Add to that the yoga, some Advil and an ice pack and I'll be okay.
I've also made a pact that I intend to keep no matter what. I got on the scale on 1/1/14. I recorded that number. I do not plan to step on that motherfucker again until 12/31/14. Breaking. The. Cycle.
This is going to be an okay year. I've come so far in my recovery (next week I'll be four years sober) and I've made great progress in understanding who I am and what I want. I'm also beginning to understand that I am okay and that, no matter what happens this year, I will continue to be okay as long as I stay connected to what's important in life. Things like God, family, friends, truth, love, kindness...and our dogs. Everything else is secondary. As long as I maintain an open heart...it will all be okay. It may not always be great, or fantastic or wonderful but it will also not always be shitty or hard or ugly. It is what it is and that's all that it is and that is OKAY.
Jeez...I'm rambling...guess I'm a little out of practice since my hiatus.
Namaste
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
You Say You Want a Resolution
res·o·lu·tion
ˌrezəˈlo͞oSHən/
noun
- 2.the action of solving a problem, dispute, or contentious matter."the peaceful resolution of all disputes"
synonyms: solution to, answer to, end to, ending to, settlement of, conclusion to
Yep...it's THAT time of year folks. Time to make grandiose promises that we won't keep that will only serve to make us feel like failures on 12/31/14. Why do we do that to ourselves? Because it's TRADITION.
Well...that's a tradition I can do without thank you very much. As you can see, no where in the above definition does it say...
3. a promise made in the emotion of the moment (i.e. the turning from one year to another) that is so big and so impossible you toss it aside by the 6th day of the New Year.
Doesn't say that at all now does it?
Every New Year's Day I'm filled with the promise of new resolutions made only to be thwarted by leftover cake, well meaning relatives or just plain stress of life. I've had some success in my 52 years around the sun. One year I promised to wear my seat belt while driving (before it was the law) and I followed through. The next year I promised to wear it whether I was driving or a passenger and I followed through yet again. Yay me!
I quit smoking as the result of a New Year's resolution.
I quit drinking as the result of a New Year's resolution.
Other than that, my track record sucks. I have vowed to lose weight every New Year's since I hit puberty. Let's be clear, it's only been in the last 10 years that I actually needed to lose weight, but I vowed every year regardless, only to think myself a failure when it didn't happen.
What a waste of precious time and energy. Ugh!
So this year I'm going about this a little bit differently. We'll call it Sherry Resolutions 2.0.
- I resolve to practice eating cleaner and staying away from sugar as much as possible.
- I resolve to practice meditation and/or yoga every day in order to get more in touch with my spirituality. As an added benefit, I won't feel like such a fraud when I sign my posts, "Namaste".
- I resolve to practice kindness at all times...even when angry, or frustrated or depressed...there is never an excuse to be unkind.
- I resolve to practice approaching life from a place of love. Love for every one and every thing in the universe. That includes me.
- On a more practical note, I resolve to floss every day and not every other day the way I do now.
And that's it. Note the use of the word practice (except for the flossing thing...I really need to do this). Practice not perfection. I can practice these things every day or as much as I'm able and it will all be okay. I will be a better person this year because at least I TRIED.
Happy New Year everyone!
Namaste
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
A Couple of Things
First, to all of you Ugg lovers who commented yesterday...I KNOW Uggs are the shit in footwear, that's why I choose them for schlepping back and forth to the bus this winter (well actually I was looking for knockoffs but couldn't find any so I purchased the real deal...then Christmas rolled around and now you can't swing a dead cat without hitting a pair of knockoffs). And they are the most comfortable things I've ever worn on my feet and I am now officially an Ugg addict. But they are butt Uggly (see what I did there) and I am not used to wearing ugly shoes. So I have a love/hate relationship with the suckers.
Still...the fact that I'm buying lower and lower heels and seeking comfort over fashion is really pissing me off. And that's a fact.
Next, for some reason I can no longer comment on Blogger posts from my work computer. Who in the hell knows why...someone in IT decided that it was FORBIDDEN and so I wanted all of you to know that I'm reading even if I can't comment. (Yes I'm working but I read and comment on my lunch hour.) So to Barbara - I am so going to miss your posts. I'm glad we're Facebook friends and please keep me updated if you start a new blog. Amy - please feel better soon...sucks to be sick. As to calling in sick? Girl, keep your germs to yourself! Your co-workers and customers appreciate the effort.
There is someone in my life right now that is sucking the Happy right out of me and I'm trying very hard to cope but it's getting more and more difficult every day. Just being around them takes me from a place of joy to a place of frustration and even anger faster than a Mazzeratti goes from 0-60. I'm very sensitive to the feelings of the people I love, so what they feel, I feel...for reals yo. I think I'm going to have to get some kind of force field to put around me to protect my Happy this holiday season. Someone call Bella and get her to drop that shield she used on the Volturi around me. (That was a Twilight reference...sorry.)
That's all for today. Protect your Happy.
Namaste
Still...the fact that I'm buying lower and lower heels and seeking comfort over fashion is really pissing me off. And that's a fact.
Next, for some reason I can no longer comment on Blogger posts from my work computer. Who in the hell knows why...someone in IT decided that it was FORBIDDEN and so I wanted all of you to know that I'm reading even if I can't comment. (Yes I'm working but I read and comment on my lunch hour.) So to Barbara - I am so going to miss your posts. I'm glad we're Facebook friends and please keep me updated if you start a new blog. Amy - please feel better soon...sucks to be sick. As to calling in sick? Girl, keep your germs to yourself! Your co-workers and customers appreciate the effort.
There is someone in my life right now that is sucking the Happy right out of me and I'm trying very hard to cope but it's getting more and more difficult every day. Just being around them takes me from a place of joy to a place of frustration and even anger faster than a Mazzeratti goes from 0-60. I'm very sensitive to the feelings of the people I love, so what they feel, I feel...for reals yo. I think I'm going to have to get some kind of force field to put around me to protect my Happy this holiday season. Someone call Bella and get her to drop that shield she used on the Volturi around me. (That was a Twilight reference...sorry.)
That's all for today. Protect your Happy.
Namaste
Monday, December 16, 2013
It's Official...I'm Getting Old
Notice I didn't say that I am old. Because I'm not. And I will never be. I am the coolest, hippest, youngest mom/grandma on the planet and I plan to stay that way for-fucking-EVER and you can take that to the BANK.
But I am noticing changes and this one hurts most of all. It cuts me to the core and leaves me raw and bleeding on the road of life. This is the cruelest, most inhumane, beastly sign of getting older and I'm not sure what I'm going to do or how I'm going to handle it. It's just too painful.
It's not the post menopausal weight gain. I've made peace with these 40 extra pounds. If they are insistent on sticking around well then so be it. But I'm not letting them kill me. I'm dedicated to being a carb-less carni/herbivore that will keep my blood pressure and cholesterol/tryglycerides in check and therefore keep me healthy. I'm committed to 10,000 steps a day and anything else that will keep me active and vital. So if those extra pounds like me all that much...I guess we can co-exist.
It's not gray hair because I don't have any. Yep, 52 1/2 years old and no gray hair. It's genetics so I don't take any credit for it. I still color my hair though. My actual hair color is the blahest, dowdiest, light brown you've ever seen. I hate it. So I color it and it's a different color every 6-8 weeks which is fun and hip. But it's not because it's gray...because I'm on trend!!!! Right! Yes...just nod.
It's not that I can't hear or can't remember anything (because I've never been able to remember anything), or that my teeth are falling out or that my knee aches from too many aerobics classes for too many years on hard floors with the wrong shoes. No...that's not it.
It's because I've lost my passion for SHOES!
Look away...I'm hideous.
I am a shoe-aholic and, up until recently, damn proud of it! I still love shoes - I haven't totally lost my fucking mind - it's just that recently I've begun to get uh...more...um...sensible about the shoes I buy. (Wait...I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.)
The shoes I'm buying are still on trend but...uh...gulp...the heels are lower; the toe box is roomier; the colors are more neutral than my usual "POW". They are more...ugh!...COMFORTABLE! And I'm seeking them out! I'm buying them ON PURPOSE. It's not like I buy a pair of stilettos and accidentally happen upon a pair that is actually comfortable (I do have a couple of pair like that). It's that I insist on comfort before I buy them!
No more, "I'll break them in," or "they'll probably work with a pair of tights", or "my toes aren't THAT squished". No, now it's all, "Nope...too tight," or "Nope...can't feel my pinky toe," or the worst..."Nope, the heel is too high!"
Wait...I'm feeling faint.
I'm the girl who spent six weeks on crutches and still wore one high heel every day! I had to replace all my shoes after the cast came off because one heel of each pair was worn down more than the other. For reals people...I was serious about my heels. I used to teach for eight hours in four inch heels and then walk to dinner with colleagues in the same shoes. Change shoes for dinner? What do you think I am? OLD?
Yes...sniff...I am.
And to prove to you how bad this is...I want to introduce you to my most recent shoe investment...
See...told you it was bad.
Sigh...
Namaste
But I am noticing changes and this one hurts most of all. It cuts me to the core and leaves me raw and bleeding on the road of life. This is the cruelest, most inhumane, beastly sign of getting older and I'm not sure what I'm going to do or how I'm going to handle it. It's just too painful.
It's not the post menopausal weight gain. I've made peace with these 40 extra pounds. If they are insistent on sticking around well then so be it. But I'm not letting them kill me. I'm dedicated to being a carb-less carni/herbivore that will keep my blood pressure and cholesterol/tryglycerides in check and therefore keep me healthy. I'm committed to 10,000 steps a day and anything else that will keep me active and vital. So if those extra pounds like me all that much...I guess we can co-exist.
It's not gray hair because I don't have any. Yep, 52 1/2 years old and no gray hair. It's genetics so I don't take any credit for it. I still color my hair though. My actual hair color is the blahest, dowdiest, light brown you've ever seen. I hate it. So I color it and it's a different color every 6-8 weeks which is fun and hip. But it's not because it's gray...because I'm on trend!!!! Right! Yes...just nod.
It's not that I can't hear or can't remember anything (because I've never been able to remember anything), or that my teeth are falling out or that my knee aches from too many aerobics classes for too many years on hard floors with the wrong shoes. No...that's not it.
It's because I've lost my passion for SHOES!
Look away...I'm hideous.
I am a shoe-aholic and, up until recently, damn proud of it! I still love shoes - I haven't totally lost my fucking mind - it's just that recently I've begun to get uh...more...um...sensible about the shoes I buy. (Wait...I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.)
The shoes I'm buying are still on trend but...uh...gulp...the heels are lower; the toe box is roomier; the colors are more neutral than my usual "POW". They are more...ugh!...COMFORTABLE! And I'm seeking them out! I'm buying them ON PURPOSE. It's not like I buy a pair of stilettos and accidentally happen upon a pair that is actually comfortable (I do have a couple of pair like that). It's that I insist on comfort before I buy them!
No more, "I'll break them in," or "they'll probably work with a pair of tights", or "my toes aren't THAT squished". No, now it's all, "Nope...too tight," or "Nope...can't feel my pinky toe," or the worst..."Nope, the heel is too high!"
Wait...I'm feeling faint.
I'm the girl who spent six weeks on crutches and still wore one high heel every day! I had to replace all my shoes after the cast came off because one heel of each pair was worn down more than the other. For reals people...I was serious about my heels. I used to teach for eight hours in four inch heels and then walk to dinner with colleagues in the same shoes. Change shoes for dinner? What do you think I am? OLD?
Yes...sniff...I am.
And to prove to you how bad this is...I want to introduce you to my most recent shoe investment...
See...told you it was bad.
Namaste
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
The Reason for the Season
Talking to the hubs on the drive in to work today (sun is shining blindingly...blahs have passed - thanks to everyone for your kind words...they really do help) and we of course got on the subject of Christmas. I wanted to know how we were doing on the money front since I'm working so hard to stay on budget. Answer? We're doing "great"!
That was a relief because this time of year always weighs on my mind when it comes to money and shopping for the "perfect" gift for people. Many times without regard to what it costs.
See, my mother equated love with "things". If you had the right things, bought the right things, wore the right things and, at Christmas, gifted the right things, then you were normal. No problems here folks...move along...nothing to see. Didn't matter how much it cost or how far in debt we were or how many nights she spent playing bingo to try and win the money while I stayed home and dealt with a drunk father. Nope...just had to have the right things. What's more, if she didn't get the right things as gifts (and it was never right), she'd pout and make you feel like shit all day.
For years I didn't even realize I was replicating some of this behavior. I didn't realize that I was trying to make myself feel better on the outside with things, while all the time I was dying on the inside. And this was never more true than at Christmas. I gave the kids everything on their list, every year, no matter what. Most years, after all the shopping was done, I'd go out and fine some "wow" gift that they weren't expecting so that they would have "the best Christmas EVER." (Let's get them all new Macs! How about we go get them each a new car! Let's get them the XBox, Playstation AND a Wii!) Add to that all the baking, decorating and time spent with them and you have a shit storm of crazy, manic behavior that left me exhausted (and usually hungover) and feeling empty and most definitely broke and further in debt.
No one (except, probably, the hubs) knew what was going on inside of me. The kids had a great Santa experience. The neighbors attended the best parties at the best decorated house in the neighborhood. Friends received the best cookies and candies made from the most trendy recipes. The house remained spotless at all times. The only difference between me and my mom was that I had more money and I could care less if I got anything - I just wanted everyone else to have "the best Christmas EVER."
But then I got sober and began to recover. I started to dig and pick at old scars and uncover what was really going on inside this dying heart. I've written about it over and over in this blog but one thing that has finally, blessedly, come to pass is that this year I'm not stressing about gifts. I purchased things I knew people would enjoy, that I picked out myself but that are within a prescribed budget. I clued my men into the fact that there would be a strict budget this year and no "wow" gifts under the tree. I will make some candy and cookies but only if there is time and I feel like it. There will be no Christmas party at the Magic House this year.
What there will be is a house filled with love and gratitude for the simple gift of being together for one more year. There will be gifts, purchased or made, that were selected especially for loved ones and given with love. How they take them is not up to me. What they think about them is not up to me. All I can do is love them and provide a small token of that love in the spirit of the season.
There will be a remembrance of the birth of Jesus and what that means in our Christian home (it's not the same among all of my kids so it's always a great conversation). Again, there will be gratitude.
And for me? There will be some hard won peace. I am so okay with that.
Namaste
That was a relief because this time of year always weighs on my mind when it comes to money and shopping for the "perfect" gift for people. Many times without regard to what it costs.
See, my mother equated love with "things". If you had the right things, bought the right things, wore the right things and, at Christmas, gifted the right things, then you were normal. No problems here folks...move along...nothing to see. Didn't matter how much it cost or how far in debt we were or how many nights she spent playing bingo to try and win the money while I stayed home and dealt with a drunk father. Nope...just had to have the right things. What's more, if she didn't get the right things as gifts (and it was never right), she'd pout and make you feel like shit all day.
For years I didn't even realize I was replicating some of this behavior. I didn't realize that I was trying to make myself feel better on the outside with things, while all the time I was dying on the inside. And this was never more true than at Christmas. I gave the kids everything on their list, every year, no matter what. Most years, after all the shopping was done, I'd go out and fine some "wow" gift that they weren't expecting so that they would have "the best Christmas EVER." (Let's get them all new Macs! How about we go get them each a new car! Let's get them the XBox, Playstation AND a Wii!) Add to that all the baking, decorating and time spent with them and you have a shit storm of crazy, manic behavior that left me exhausted (and usually hungover) and feeling empty and most definitely broke and further in debt.
No one (except, probably, the hubs) knew what was going on inside of me. The kids had a great Santa experience. The neighbors attended the best parties at the best decorated house in the neighborhood. Friends received the best cookies and candies made from the most trendy recipes. The house remained spotless at all times. The only difference between me and my mom was that I had more money and I could care less if I got anything - I just wanted everyone else to have "the best Christmas EVER."
But then I got sober and began to recover. I started to dig and pick at old scars and uncover what was really going on inside this dying heart. I've written about it over and over in this blog but one thing that has finally, blessedly, come to pass is that this year I'm not stressing about gifts. I purchased things I knew people would enjoy, that I picked out myself but that are within a prescribed budget. I clued my men into the fact that there would be a strict budget this year and no "wow" gifts under the tree. I will make some candy and cookies but only if there is time and I feel like it. There will be no Christmas party at the Magic House this year.
What there will be is a house filled with love and gratitude for the simple gift of being together for one more year. There will be gifts, purchased or made, that were selected especially for loved ones and given with love. How they take them is not up to me. What they think about them is not up to me. All I can do is love them and provide a small token of that love in the spirit of the season.
There will be a remembrance of the birth of Jesus and what that means in our Christian home (it's not the same among all of my kids so it's always a great conversation). Again, there will be gratitude.
And for me? There will be some hard won peace. I am so okay with that.
Namaste
Monday, December 9, 2013
Blah Day
Okay people, Susie Sunshine here is having a blah day...and it's only 10:00 am. Blah meaning not a particularly good mood coupled with a rumbly tummy and a headache that's been plaguing me for weeks. Blech.
The weather here is crap. Just cold rain. No snow which always cheers me (as long as it melts as fast as it falls). And yes, I know it could be worse, I have family and friends fighting ice and snow right now which is never a good thing. Snow yes. Ice? Not so much.
No sunshine which I NEED to combat the blahs.
No challenging work in which I can sink my teeth (this is our slow season).
My men are going through exams in school and so are not particularly cheerful and the hubs is not his normal self and I'm not sure why (maybe he's feeling BLAH also).
Add to that the fact that we're hemorrhaging cash because of Christmas (even though I've made and am sticking to a strict budget - it still feels like a lot of money) and the fact that I can't get into any kind of exercise lately (and I really miss it) and you've got the perfect storm.
A serious, no holds barred, case of the BLAHS.
But I'll snap out of it. One of my men called and invited me to lunch today. Yay. My Starbucks Christmas Blend is particularly good this morning (only 12 more stars till I reach Gold level - I have no idea what this means). The rest of the week at work is packed with holiday themed events - eight hours of volunteer work tomorrow and lunch and a pedicure with my coworkers on Wednesday. Then there's next week and after that - I'm off for two entire weeks!
And really, when I stop whining long enough to "be still" and look around I realize what an incredibly blessed woman I am.
As I was praying this morning I was thanking The Big Guy for the fact that I have a nice roof over my head and three meals a day which makes me richer than about 60% of the entire world's population (or something like that). That is a huge hairy deal when you think about it.
Add to that a good job with people I love that pays me well; a family that is filled with love and caring; and a husband who still thinks this old woman is hot - he is also old and therefore likely a little blind but I'm okay with that ;-) and you've got a multitude of blessings that should never be taken for granted.
Even on the BLAH days.
Namaste
The weather here is crap. Just cold rain. No snow which always cheers me (as long as it melts as fast as it falls). And yes, I know it could be worse, I have family and friends fighting ice and snow right now which is never a good thing. Snow yes. Ice? Not so much.
No sunshine which I NEED to combat the blahs.
No challenging work in which I can sink my teeth (this is our slow season).
My men are going through exams in school and so are not particularly cheerful and the hubs is not his normal self and I'm not sure why (maybe he's feeling BLAH also).
Add to that the fact that we're hemorrhaging cash because of Christmas (even though I've made and am sticking to a strict budget - it still feels like a lot of money) and the fact that I can't get into any kind of exercise lately (and I really miss it) and you've got the perfect storm.
A serious, no holds barred, case of the BLAHS.
But I'll snap out of it. One of my men called and invited me to lunch today. Yay. My Starbucks Christmas Blend is particularly good this morning (only 12 more stars till I reach Gold level - I have no idea what this means). The rest of the week at work is packed with holiday themed events - eight hours of volunteer work tomorrow and lunch and a pedicure with my coworkers on Wednesday. Then there's next week and after that - I'm off for two entire weeks!
And really, when I stop whining long enough to "be still" and look around I realize what an incredibly blessed woman I am.
As I was praying this morning I was thanking The Big Guy for the fact that I have a nice roof over my head and three meals a day which makes me richer than about 60% of the entire world's population (or something like that). That is a huge hairy deal when you think about it.
Add to that a good job with people I love that pays me well; a family that is filled with love and caring; and a husband who still thinks this old woman is hot - he is also old and therefore likely a little blind but I'm okay with that ;-) and you've got a multitude of blessings that should never be taken for granted.
Even on the BLAH days.
Friday, December 6, 2013
On Being Honest
Yesterday someone told me that I was "direct" and that they like that. That's a very good thing because that's the only way I know how to be. I "shoot from the hip", "tell it like it is", "lay it all on the table" or any other well worn phrase you'd like to use. It's "how I roll". (Okay...enough with the quotes.)
Over the years this little personality trait has been both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, people always know where they stand with me and there are seldom surprises about how I feel about something. Hell, you can read my face like a book. I don't have to say a word. This makes most people comfortable with me because they know I have no ulterior motives going on...what you see is what you get.
On the other hand, it makes some people very uncomfortable. These folks are usually even more conflict avoidant than I am and would rather just ignore the 800 pound gorilla in the room and pretend that everything is FINE, then face what's going on and resolve it. To these people I say oh well. The kind of stress that is created in my gut when a situation is present and not dealt with is the kind that makes me a crazy woman who seeks comfort. Comfort in a bottle. Comfort in a new pair of shoes. Comfort in chocolate.
That's why I choose honesty when I write this blog. And why I choose the "colorful" language I do. I was an English minor in college. I am well aware that a run on sentence is not a proper way to express myself nor is dropping the f-bomb in every other sentence. Except that it is. Here I get to write what I want and how I want and direct it to whom I want and use any type of language I want. (Except that there is never an excuse to mix up their and there...thanks Kathy.)
See, I started this blog to help myself through my recovery and that's the primary reason I still write. But along the way I got a crazy notion that I'd like to help others on their paths to sobriety too. I wanted to give back a little of what I got when I found the blogosphere. I wanted to share my experience in the hopes that someone might say, "Oh thank GOD I'm not alone" and know that there is a better life on the other side of the bottle.
The only way I know how to do that is by being totally upfront and honest...about all of my experiences (since those are the only ones I can speak to). So instead of blowing sunshine and unicorns up your ass with ever post, I choose to tell you about that damned craving I had, or the awful drunk dream, or the fact that holiday parties sucked at first, or that yes, after all this time Chardonnay DOES still smell good to me and that I DO wish that I could have a shot of Jameson's in my coffee. Sorry...that's just how it is for me.
I recognize that each and every one of our journey's is different. That all of our addictions are different. That's why this blogging community is so great! Because of the different perspectives. Click on enough links on the blogrolls and I guarantee you'll find someone who is exactly like you. That's a beautiful thing. That in this crazy universe there is someone out there who can relate to how you feel right this minute and can help you through it! It's not only beautiful, it's a friggin' miracle!
What I don't want is for someone who is struggling to walk into a situation and think, "Why didn't anyone warn me about this?", or worse yet, "I'm the only one who feels this way...there must be something wrong with me." UGH! What a waste that would be when there are so many of us out here who want so badly to make it easier for each other. I learned that after my first child was born. Why doesn't anyone tell you about all the gross stuff that happens to you on that table?! Why aren't women HONEST about that?!
Well I am. I tell them every ugly and gross thing that's going to happen the same way I do here.
And then I say the same thing I do here...that it's all worth it more than you can know because, at the end of all of the ugliness is...LIFE.
Namaste
Over the years this little personality trait has been both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, people always know where they stand with me and there are seldom surprises about how I feel about something. Hell, you can read my face like a book. I don't have to say a word. This makes most people comfortable with me because they know I have no ulterior motives going on...what you see is what you get.
On the other hand, it makes some people very uncomfortable. These folks are usually even more conflict avoidant than I am and would rather just ignore the 800 pound gorilla in the room and pretend that everything is FINE, then face what's going on and resolve it. To these people I say oh well. The kind of stress that is created in my gut when a situation is present and not dealt with is the kind that makes me a crazy woman who seeks comfort. Comfort in a bottle. Comfort in a new pair of shoes. Comfort in chocolate.
That's why I choose honesty when I write this blog. And why I choose the "colorful" language I do. I was an English minor in college. I am well aware that a run on sentence is not a proper way to express myself nor is dropping the f-bomb in every other sentence. Except that it is. Here I get to write what I want and how I want and direct it to whom I want and use any type of language I want. (Except that there is never an excuse to mix up their and there...thanks Kathy.)
See, I started this blog to help myself through my recovery and that's the primary reason I still write. But along the way I got a crazy notion that I'd like to help others on their paths to sobriety too. I wanted to give back a little of what I got when I found the blogosphere. I wanted to share my experience in the hopes that someone might say, "Oh thank GOD I'm not alone" and know that there is a better life on the other side of the bottle.
The only way I know how to do that is by being totally upfront and honest...about all of my experiences (since those are the only ones I can speak to). So instead of blowing sunshine and unicorns up your ass with ever post, I choose to tell you about that damned craving I had, or the awful drunk dream, or the fact that holiday parties sucked at first, or that yes, after all this time Chardonnay DOES still smell good to me and that I DO wish that I could have a shot of Jameson's in my coffee. Sorry...that's just how it is for me.
I recognize that each and every one of our journey's is different. That all of our addictions are different. That's why this blogging community is so great! Because of the different perspectives. Click on enough links on the blogrolls and I guarantee you'll find someone who is exactly like you. That's a beautiful thing. That in this crazy universe there is someone out there who can relate to how you feel right this minute and can help you through it! It's not only beautiful, it's a friggin' miracle!
What I don't want is for someone who is struggling to walk into a situation and think, "Why didn't anyone warn me about this?", or worse yet, "I'm the only one who feels this way...there must be something wrong with me." UGH! What a waste that would be when there are so many of us out here who want so badly to make it easier for each other. I learned that after my first child was born. Why doesn't anyone tell you about all the gross stuff that happens to you on that table?! Why aren't women HONEST about that?!
Well I am. I tell them every ugly and gross thing that's going to happen the same way I do here.
And then I say the same thing I do here...that it's all worth it more than you can know because, at the end of all of the ugliness is...LIFE.
Namaste
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
One Job
Headed off to NY tomorrow to do an event...just like last year. Except last year I was there all week - this time its just 24 hours. Fine by me. Travel gets old after a while and I've been doing it for the last 20 years. It's officially old.
Last year's trip was a blast because it was my first time in NY at Christmastime. My two coworkers and I had such a great time! I did have a...um...pause...which inspired this post. That got me thinking about some of you who may be struggling and I decided that I'd like to add my two cents to the whole "Holiday Survival Guide" thing.
I mean really...what self-respecting recovering alcoholic doesn't have some advice to get through this time and what kind of self-respecting recovering alcoholic would I be if I didn't share?
Now say that last sentence three times fast.
Just kidding.
First of all, if you're newly sober (and hell, maybe even if you're not), this is going to suck in ways you've never imagined. This is going to suck so bad your ancestors will feel it. But here's the thing - it's OKAY. Anything worth having takes WORK and sobriety is so worth having!!! Know that no matter how bad your feeling and how badly you want that drink...it will pass. I promise. It will pass. And when it does...you will still be sober.
Next, be sure to take care of yourself and your sobriety FIRST. Announce it to your family/friends if necessary.
"Look people, nothing matters more to me right now than staying sober so I'm putting you on notice, I come first! If I'm not here it means I'm taking care of me. If I don't answer my phone it means I don't want to talk you because you annoy me and that might trigger me so leave me a message. If I don't return a text right away it means I'm doing something good for myself like taking a bubble bath, getting a massage or eating chocolate. Get over yourself. Right now, it IS all about me."
Seriously, if you don't put this first and foremost in your life, you're no good to anyone else. You don't HAVE to do anything. I promise that Christmas will still come and the planet will still keep turning if you don't get around to wrapping all your gifts before the 13th, or making Aunt Betty's pumpkin souffle that takes forty gadzillion hours and 23 steps not to mention 37 different ingredients. If it's stressing you out then forget about it. You can do it all next year.
(And before you say anything, you are not special when it comes to this kind of thing. We all have those special things we're supposed to do and ridiculous expectations put on us this time of year. So what. Just say no.)
Now I'm sure you're probably worried about the holiday parties, saying no to the booze and/or not having a good time. I mean really...how in the world can you be expected to have a good time if you can't drink?
So let's do this. Let's just all agree that you are NOT going to have a good time at any of these parties this year. Remember that part when I said this would suck? Yeah well this is that part. It sucks (at first) to be the sober one at the party. It also pisses you off. Why can't I drink if he can? Well you can't. Plain and simple. So stay home and throw a hissy fit (I've thrown one or ten or fifty in my sober life). Or go and throw one. Or go and sit in a corner and pout. If other people don't like it...then fuck them.
YOU ONLY HAVE ONE JOB...TO STAY SOBER NO MATTER WHAT!!!
Go to the party and eat yourself stupid if you have to...which brings me to my next point. Fuck calories. If you are newly sober or if the holiday's are a particularly difficult time for you, give yourself a fucking break and eat the goddamn cookies! Or fudge, or mac and cheese or bacon or WHATEVER! Just eat it!!!! You deserve it! You're sober when no one else is! This eating thing will pass eventually and you'll get your life back on track, don't worry. It's temporary and, for a lot of us, necessary to our sobriety.
If you go to the parties (or family get togethers or whatever) I want you to take a moment and look around. Watch how everyone else is drinking. Sure, some people are getting shit-faced (and you'll either feel sorry for them or you'll be disgusted by them...most likely you'll just be glad it's not you this year), but many, many others are not. They are sipping their drinks. They'll have one, maybe two and be done. While you are looking longingly at their drinks I want you to remember THAT YOU CAN NOT DRINK LIKE THIS. So don't even try. Remember, one job - stay sober...that's it. NO MATTER WHAT!!!
Now to the good part. At the end of every night this holiday season (with the exception of Christmas Eve if you have little ones) you can go to bed early. You can put on your warmest PJ's and snuggle up under your blankets, read a little (and comprehend/remember what you're reading) or maybe watch a little TV. Have some hot tea, or maybe some hot chocolate with real whipped cream (after you've squirted some in your mouth right from the can). Then you can drift off to dreamland only to wake refreshed the next day and ready for whatever the day might bring.
One job...that's all you have this holiday season. ONE JOB.
You can handle that can't you? Yep...you sure as hell can.
Namaste
Last year's trip was a blast because it was my first time in NY at Christmastime. My two coworkers and I had such a great time! I did have a...um...pause...which inspired this post. That got me thinking about some of you who may be struggling and I decided that I'd like to add my two cents to the whole "Holiday Survival Guide" thing.
I mean really...what self-respecting recovering alcoholic doesn't have some advice to get through this time and what kind of self-respecting recovering alcoholic would I be if I didn't share?
Now say that last sentence three times fast.
Just kidding.
First of all, if you're newly sober (and hell, maybe even if you're not), this is going to suck in ways you've never imagined. This is going to suck so bad your ancestors will feel it. But here's the thing - it's OKAY. Anything worth having takes WORK and sobriety is so worth having!!! Know that no matter how bad your feeling and how badly you want that drink...it will pass. I promise. It will pass. And when it does...you will still be sober.
Next, be sure to take care of yourself and your sobriety FIRST. Announce it to your family/friends if necessary.
"Look people, nothing matters more to me right now than staying sober so I'm putting you on notice, I come first! If I'm not here it means I'm taking care of me. If I don't answer my phone it means I don't want to talk you because you annoy me and that might trigger me so leave me a message. If I don't return a text right away it means I'm doing something good for myself like taking a bubble bath, getting a massage or eating chocolate. Get over yourself. Right now, it IS all about me."
Seriously, if you don't put this first and foremost in your life, you're no good to anyone else. You don't HAVE to do anything. I promise that Christmas will still come and the planet will still keep turning if you don't get around to wrapping all your gifts before the 13th, or making Aunt Betty's pumpkin souffle that takes forty gadzillion hours and 23 steps not to mention 37 different ingredients. If it's stressing you out then forget about it. You can do it all next year.
(And before you say anything, you are not special when it comes to this kind of thing. We all have those special things we're supposed to do and ridiculous expectations put on us this time of year. So what. Just say no.)
Now I'm sure you're probably worried about the holiday parties, saying no to the booze and/or not having a good time. I mean really...how in the world can you be expected to have a good time if you can't drink?
So let's do this. Let's just all agree that you are NOT going to have a good time at any of these parties this year. Remember that part when I said this would suck? Yeah well this is that part. It sucks (at first) to be the sober one at the party. It also pisses you off. Why can't I drink if he can? Well you can't. Plain and simple. So stay home and throw a hissy fit (I've thrown one or ten or fifty in my sober life). Or go and throw one. Or go and sit in a corner and pout. If other people don't like it...then fuck them.
YOU ONLY HAVE ONE JOB...TO STAY SOBER NO MATTER WHAT!!!
Go to the party and eat yourself stupid if you have to...which brings me to my next point. Fuck calories. If you are newly sober or if the holiday's are a particularly difficult time for you, give yourself a fucking break and eat the goddamn cookies! Or fudge, or mac and cheese or bacon or WHATEVER! Just eat it!!!! You deserve it! You're sober when no one else is! This eating thing will pass eventually and you'll get your life back on track, don't worry. It's temporary and, for a lot of us, necessary to our sobriety.
If you go to the parties (or family get togethers or whatever) I want you to take a moment and look around. Watch how everyone else is drinking. Sure, some people are getting shit-faced (and you'll either feel sorry for them or you'll be disgusted by them...most likely you'll just be glad it's not you this year), but many, many others are not. They are sipping their drinks. They'll have one, maybe two and be done. While you are looking longingly at their drinks I want you to remember THAT YOU CAN NOT DRINK LIKE THIS. So don't even try. Remember, one job - stay sober...that's it. NO MATTER WHAT!!!
Now to the good part. At the end of every night this holiday season (with the exception of Christmas Eve if you have little ones) you can go to bed early. You can put on your warmest PJ's and snuggle up under your blankets, read a little (and comprehend/remember what you're reading) or maybe watch a little TV. Have some hot tea, or maybe some hot chocolate with real whipped cream (after you've squirted some in your mouth right from the can). Then you can drift off to dreamland only to wake refreshed the next day and ready for whatever the day might bring.
One job...that's all you have this holiday season. ONE JOB.
You can handle that can't you? Yep...you sure as hell can.
Namaste
Monday, December 2, 2013
Time to Just Be
What a wonderful holiday. I totally love Thanksgiving. My daughter and her family came down (they'll be back after Christmas) and my niece and her family were there along with my boys and assorted girlfriends. We ate way too much, screamed at some football and laughed until our sides hurt. No drama. No guilt.
That's why it's called the Magic House.
After they left on Saturday, the hubs and I decorated the inside of the house. It looks great and I only had to trim the tree once since at the end of last year we bought a pre-lit tree for downstairs (we already had one for upstairs). And then it happened...
The melancholy set in. That danged anxious, sad feeling I get every year around the holidays. I fight it and fight it and eventually it goes away, but it can leave me feeling flat and not fully present. It sucks. I've battled it for many years and have often attributed it to depression, money troubles or seasonal affective disorder but really, I've never put my finger on exactly what it is.
I know for a fact it's why I loved holiday parties so much. Parties were an opportunity to escape the melancholy. Dress up in festive holiday attire and head out to a place decorated with Christmas lights where we would eat yummy food and, of course, drink our faces off. The more parties the season held the better in my opinion. Of course I spent too much, ate too much and drank so much that I can barely remember most of the parties. But oh they were FUN!!! At least I think they were...
Anyway, after the kids were born the holidays changed and became about Santa and the magic that was Christmas. To see their little eyes shine when they opened their gifts. Or the wonder when Santa came to mass and knelt down to bless the baby Jesus in the manger. Those were also great escapes. Ones that I will treasure always.
But down deep, the "thing" bubbled and brewed. That anxiety, depression, melancholy was merely sleeping, waiting for a chance to pounce...which it inevitably ended up doing. Break out the bubbly! Time to take a ride on the Escape Express! First and last stop...oblivion.
During my first few sober Christmases I never gave it a second thought. I put the feeling down to being sober. After all, how freaking boring is Christmas without wine? I have special Christmas wine glasses and everything! No wonder I can't get in the "spirit", I'm freaking SOBER!
Except this year I know that's not the case. I LOVE being sober! I wouldn't give up this sober life for ANYTHING. Then why do I still feel this way? What in the world is wrong with me?
So I stopped and tried to really examine what I was feeling. Anxiety...check. Sadness...check. Flat...check. What is at the root of this?
Then it hit me...I'm waiting for the other shoe to fall. You see, there's no way my life can feel or be this good. Something bad is bound to happen...it always does. The holidays of my youth were always spent waiting for something to spoil the good time. My father got drunk and spoiled it. My mother brought drama where ever she roamed. The crazy side of my family ended up fighting. IT WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING.
So now I literally refuse to let myself get caught up in the good feelings for fear that I will be disappointed later when it all goes to shit.
Here's the thing...so what if it goes to shit. I've carefully cultivated a home filled with love and support and joy. Ours is a drama and guilt free home. It's warm and loving and caring and kind. It's the home I always wanted when I was growing up so even if shit does happen, we'll all be there to support one another and deal with it as it comes...just like we always do.
So it's time to stop living in the past. It's time to live in the NOW. Not dwelling on who made me feel what way 40+ years ago. Not worrying about what might happen. Not trying to control every fucking thing that may or may not come our way.
Just enjoying the spirit of the season. The joy of a well chosen (or made) gift given freely and unconditionally and filled with love. The warmth of family together and enjoying being that way. The celebration of the birth of God's only Son. All the cheesy Christmas movies. Digging in the bottom of my purse for change so that I can drop something in every red kettle I see.
Just being and loving in the Magic House.
Namaste
PS - If you have a minute or two and you pray, please send up one for the families who are living with the aftermath of the New Town shootings that happened last December 14th. This must be an awfully hard time for them.
That's why it's called the Magic House.
After they left on Saturday, the hubs and I decorated the inside of the house. It looks great and I only had to trim the tree once since at the end of last year we bought a pre-lit tree for downstairs (we already had one for upstairs). And then it happened...
The melancholy set in. That danged anxious, sad feeling I get every year around the holidays. I fight it and fight it and eventually it goes away, but it can leave me feeling flat and not fully present. It sucks. I've battled it for many years and have often attributed it to depression, money troubles or seasonal affective disorder but really, I've never put my finger on exactly what it is.
I know for a fact it's why I loved holiday parties so much. Parties were an opportunity to escape the melancholy. Dress up in festive holiday attire and head out to a place decorated with Christmas lights where we would eat yummy food and, of course, drink our faces off. The more parties the season held the better in my opinion. Of course I spent too much, ate too much and drank so much that I can barely remember most of the parties. But oh they were FUN!!! At least I think they were...
Anyway, after the kids were born the holidays changed and became about Santa and the magic that was Christmas. To see their little eyes shine when they opened their gifts. Or the wonder when Santa came to mass and knelt down to bless the baby Jesus in the manger. Those were also great escapes. Ones that I will treasure always.
But down deep, the "thing" bubbled and brewed. That anxiety, depression, melancholy was merely sleeping, waiting for a chance to pounce...which it inevitably ended up doing. Break out the bubbly! Time to take a ride on the Escape Express! First and last stop...oblivion.
During my first few sober Christmases I never gave it a second thought. I put the feeling down to being sober. After all, how freaking boring is Christmas without wine? I have special Christmas wine glasses and everything! No wonder I can't get in the "spirit", I'm freaking SOBER!
Except this year I know that's not the case. I LOVE being sober! I wouldn't give up this sober life for ANYTHING. Then why do I still feel this way? What in the world is wrong with me?
So I stopped and tried to really examine what I was feeling. Anxiety...check. Sadness...check. Flat...check. What is at the root of this?
Then it hit me...I'm waiting for the other shoe to fall. You see, there's no way my life can feel or be this good. Something bad is bound to happen...it always does. The holidays of my youth were always spent waiting for something to spoil the good time. My father got drunk and spoiled it. My mother brought drama where ever she roamed. The crazy side of my family ended up fighting. IT WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING.
So now I literally refuse to let myself get caught up in the good feelings for fear that I will be disappointed later when it all goes to shit.
Here's the thing...so what if it goes to shit. I've carefully cultivated a home filled with love and support and joy. Ours is a drama and guilt free home. It's warm and loving and caring and kind. It's the home I always wanted when I was growing up so even if shit does happen, we'll all be there to support one another and deal with it as it comes...just like we always do.
So it's time to stop living in the past. It's time to live in the NOW. Not dwelling on who made me feel what way 40+ years ago. Not worrying about what might happen. Not trying to control every fucking thing that may or may not come our way.
Just enjoying the spirit of the season. The joy of a well chosen (or made) gift given freely and unconditionally and filled with love. The warmth of family together and enjoying being that way. The celebration of the birth of God's only Son. All the cheesy Christmas movies. Digging in the bottom of my purse for change so that I can drop something in every red kettle I see.
Just being and loving in the Magic House.
Namaste
PS - If you have a minute or two and you pray, please send up one for the families who are living with the aftermath of the New Town shootings that happened last December 14th. This must be an awfully hard time for them.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Sober Holidays Survival Guide
Christy over at Running on Sober, has graciously stepped back to her blog even though she's on hiatus to provide some excellent advice for that first, oh so lovely, sober holiday experience.
Look people, no shit this is going to be tough. It's going to suck ass. But with help from brilliant people like Christy, you can do this.
And please, smile, laugh and at least try to enjoy yourselves. Remember that you are a fucking sober superhero and you deserve CHOCOLATE IN MASSIVE QUANTITIES!!!
Read this - it's genius...and Gracie's pretty special too.
http://runningonsober.com/2013/11/22/holiday-sobriety-and-sanity-savers-plus-meet-baby-gracie/#comment-7061
Namaste
Look people, no shit this is going to be tough. It's going to suck ass. But with help from brilliant people like Christy, you can do this.
And please, smile, laugh and at least try to enjoy yourselves. Remember that you are a fucking sober superhero and you deserve CHOCOLATE IN MASSIVE QUANTITIES!!!
Read this - it's genius...and Gracie's pretty special too.
http://runningonsober.com/2013/11/22/holiday-sobriety-and-sanity-savers-plus-meet-baby-gracie/#comment-7061
Namaste
A November Full of Gratitude
I missed (or avoided) the whole month of gratitude thing. Mainly because I tend to get lazy about stuff like this about halfway through the month. BUT...since Thursday IS Thanksgiving here in the U.S. and I am an extremely grateful woman, I decided to cram it all into one big fat gratitude list for the entire month.
So without further ado, here are the 30 things I am grateful for (and these are in no particular order so don't get your panties in a wad):
- Family - nuclear, extended, thrust upon me or chosen. I love you all to the core of my being.
- Friends - I don't throw that word around easily. If I call you friend, it means that I trust you. It also means that I am fiercely loyal and would likely do just about anything for you. I also love you all.
- An abundance of...well...everything - On Sunday I conducted my annual purge where I ruthlessly cull the contents of my closet and get rid of anything I haven't worn in a year. This year I was more ruthless than usual. The hubs hauled away three large garbage bags full of clothes, shoes and bags and one bag of trash. How can there be people in the world that are starving and cold when I have so many clothes? I don't know but instead of hanging in my closet, maybe someone else can use them or they can be sold to help others.
- My dogs - they love unconditionally and want only to please. Well...except the beagle. She loves you when she's hungry and wants only to eat.
- A beautiful home - it's big enough and warm and lovely and even though we're upside down in it (meaning we owe more than it's worth) and the furnishing are...um...well worn, I love it. It's more than a house...it's our home.
- Proactiv+
- Good dermatologists who take the pleas of a menopausal woman seriously.
- A good job with good people.
- Good, reliable transportation to and from that job.
- The fact that I live in a country with an abundance of everything and the freedom of everything that I sometimes take for granted.
- Long eyelashes.
- Good legs.
- Six amazing kids and their respective significant others.
- Seven amazing grandkids (so far).
- One incredible husband.
- Fall weather.
- Starbucks.
- The blogging world and all of the incredible people in it both sober and otherwise.
- Fridays.
- Sundays.
- The Redskins and all of NFL football.
- Good health.
- Good teeth - well...good enough anyway. (Coming from a family of false teeth wearers...this is a biggie). Maybe this one should say good dental insurance.
- Plenty of food. Even though I grew up poor and in "the hood" I have never gone to bed hungry nor wondered where my next meal would be. I am blessed.
- PepsiMax
- Being smoke-free since 2001.
- Being alcohol-free since 2010.
- My faith.
- My relationship with the Big Guy.
- My life...it's the only one I have and I want to make the most of it.
"Be thankful for what you have. Your life, no matter how bad you think it is, is someone else's fairy tale." ~ Wale Ayeni
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Are we having fun yet?
I often hear sober people (especially early sober people) describe themselves as feeling "flat". Like the air has gone out of their souls and they are just left to lie around...flat.
I so get that! In the beginning I felt the same way...like I'd never have fun again. I mean really people...how does anyone have fun without drinking? I really and truly did not think it was possible. In fact, I used to look at people at parties who weren't drinking and feel sorry for them because they couldn't be having has much fun as I was having.
Damn but I was an ass.
Anyway...
Of course I was wrong. Duh. But it took awhile to learn how to have fun. Hell, I had to figure out what fun and happiness and joy and peace really felt like. It took awhile for me to be able to distinguish between real fun and the fake kind that comes from drinking a bottle or three of wine every night. I used to get so excited when I knew I had wine at home or that I was going to buy some or that we were going to a party or out to dinner. I was excited because I was going to have FUN!
Hindsight being what it is, I know now that it wasn't fun. Not at all. It was the addiction whispering in my ear and telling me it was fun. In reality it was sad. Very, very sad.
It took me a long time to see that though.
It took me even longer to feel it.
Because in order to figure out what real fun was, I had to understand what was not fun. And to figure out what was not fun I had to understand what drinking had done and would continue to do to me if I ever started up again. I had to come to realize that sitting alone in a room night after night drinking to the exclusion of everyone, including my family is not fun. It's addiction. Big difference.
Once I finally got that through my thick skull, I began to notice things that I had forgotten about. Things like...
And the more I figured out what real fun was, the clearer I could see what addiction was.
It's not fun.
It sucks ass.
And it tried to kill me. Dead is the ultimate in feeling flat.
Sober is just feeling.
Namaste
- What a really, really good belly laugh feels like.
- What it feels like to have a child hug me, spontaneously, because I've spent the last 30 minutes rolling around on the floor with them. Or coloring with them. Or just being with them.
- What it feels like to hear my son tell me that he loves me because it's 11:30 pm and I'm still awake and coherently listening to his hopes, dreams, fears, etc.
- What it feels like to swap family stories with my daughter and know that I'll remember it the next day.
- What it feels like to look into my husband's eyes and see only pride...not concern or irritation.
- What it feels like to dance without having to be held up or worrying I'm going to fall off my 4 inch heels.
- What it feels like to go for a drive on a fall day and not worry about when we're going to stop and get a drink or when we're going home so I can drink.
- What it feels like to hang with the little ones at grown up parties. They know how to have fun.
- What it feels like to walk the dogs in the morning with the entire day ahead of me because I didn't sleep until noon (and still feel like shit).
- What it feels like to share dinner with my colleagues and really listen and share with them because I'm not looking for the waiter to refill my glass or trying to figure out if it's socially acceptable to have a third glass of wine.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Don't Believe Your Own Publicity
A comment on my post yesterday got me to thinking about why we relapse. Why, when we know how good it feels to be sober do we go back? Why do we choose that substance when we know how much better, more fulfilling and wonderful our lives are without it? I mean seriously, how can someone with 10 or 20 years of sobriety, one day pick up a drink and be back to their old ways in a matter of days...sometimes hours? Or someone with 30 days? Or six months? Or (insert time here)?
When I got serious about quitting, I relapsed once. It was between the third and fourth month sober. A friend's husband had just begun to sell wine through home parties and she was hosting a wine tasting to get him started. (I know you already see where this is going and I know you're thinking, "WTF?" but stay with me.) I had already started the conversations in my head, with the hubs and with the kids that...
- "I can drink. I just don't have an 'off' switch so I have to be careful."
- "I'm not really an alcoholic. I just needed to take a break to prove to myself I could quit if I wanted to."
- "I'm not really an alcoholic. I didn't need any help quitting. I just did it so that must mean I'm okay."
- "I'll just be sure to limit myself to one...or two at a time."
- "Insert lame excuse here."
What-the-fuck-ever.
I ignored all the authors I'd read who were just like me. Who drank just like me. Who acted just like me when they were drunk. Authors like Carolyn Knapp, and Jane Velez-Mitchell, and Augusten Burroughs who wrote both eloquently and painfully about people just like me. In fact, it was very minor character in Burroughs' book "Dry" who said something I credit with starting my long road to sobriety.
It was either his first or one of his first AA meetings (it's been a long time since I read the book - long before I actually got sober) and he was looking around and marveling at the fact that no one looked like his mind's version of an alcoholic. Then a woman got up to speak, during her story she said what turned out to be my catalyst. She said that although she doesn't look like society's view of an alcoholic, the fact was that when she was drinking she was always the first to arrive at a party and the last to leave. Just. Like. Me.
Yeah...I ignored that too.
And so I went to the wine tasting and I tasted. And before it was time to go I had drained all mine and everyone else's glasses. I didn't get drunk, but that didn't take long.
After I sobered up the second (and final) time, I spoke with a therapist that told me that the 3-4 month mark was a dangerous place. It's a pink cloud place with a direct line to the beast. It's easy to believe your own bullshit at that point because you're feeling invincible! Like you can do anything! I mean seriously, you quit drinking!!! They said you would never do it and you did!
My husband has a phrase he uses when a celebrity makes a bonehead move or puts their foot in their mouth. He says, "Don't believe your own publicity." I love that phase because it's so apropos and it fits the relapse profile (at least for me) to a tee. I believed my own publicity. It bit me in the ass.
Everyone was congratulating me and telling me how wonderful I was and how much better things were and how good I looked. And I was thinking that life had never been better and my aren't I strong and yes, I, in fact, am amazing! I can do anything I put my mind too! Including drink!
SCREEEEEEECH.
Not so much.
Ever since then I've been very careful about this publicity thing. I call bullshit on myself on a regular basis both in this blog and in my head. I tell myself to simmer down and relax. To Be Still. That the beast is a fucking liar and is just filling my head with tabloid publicity designed to sell booze not to tell the truth. And no amount of time away from that wine bottle is going to change that. And to remember that the Big Guy always has my back.
Yes, sometimes it makes me sad. I'll admit that I miss the experience of drinking wine. Sometimes it makes me mad or it makes me feel weak or I get embarrassed or I feel like a bump on a log at a party. But then I remember that all of that is just a different kind of publicity and I don't have to believe it either.
And then I go back to my nice, sane, and quiet life that I came very close to losing because of all of that publicity. All of those lies. And I grab my People Magazine to see what the rest of the crazies are doing today.
Namaste
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
This time of year
I love the change in seasons. The part where they are still new and you're not sick to death of them yet. That's why I love where we live. There are four distinct seasons and just about the time you're ready to commit yourself to the nut house if you have to endure one more cold, damp night or one more hot humid day...poof...another season comes along and changes your view.
The most dramatic are spring and fall because the biggest change in weather happens during that time. Spring when things slowly begin to warm and everything is born, and fall when things cool off and, well...die. Oh but when they die it's certainly in a blaze of glory if you're fortunate enough to live in an area where the leaves turn red and gold and yellow before they fall on the ground and create that heavenly smell of earth and leaves and grass.
I also love the fact that it gets dark earlier. I know...some people think I'm nuts but I do. I think as the weather begins to turn cold that it's nature's way of saying, "Go on in the house now...it's dark and cold outside." So you "go on in the house" and put on your flannel PJ's and heat up some hot chocolate or tea (or drink a bottle or two of wine...NOT) and if you're me you buy all kinds of yummy scented candles and oils so your house always smells like pumpkin or cookies or cinnamon spice.
I even like the the lights that come on at night this time of year. Traffic lights and street lights and car lights all lit up before I leave the office remind me that soon I'll be lighting the inside of my house in anticipation of Christmas. I like to think that all this light also makes people a little kinder with each other and maybe even to themselves. Okay...maybe that's just me.
I know that by mid-January I'll be over it all and pissed off about the weather and tired of being cold, but for now I'm just going to go home and snuggle in my warm home and thank God that I'm blessed to be warm and fed and most of all...loved.
Namaste
The most dramatic are spring and fall because the biggest change in weather happens during that time. Spring when things slowly begin to warm and everything is born, and fall when things cool off and, well...die. Oh but when they die it's certainly in a blaze of glory if you're fortunate enough to live in an area where the leaves turn red and gold and yellow before they fall on the ground and create that heavenly smell of earth and leaves and grass.
I also love the fact that it gets dark earlier. I know...some people think I'm nuts but I do. I think as the weather begins to turn cold that it's nature's way of saying, "Go on in the house now...it's dark and cold outside." So you "go on in the house" and put on your flannel PJ's and heat up some hot chocolate or tea (or drink a bottle or two of wine...NOT) and if you're me you buy all kinds of yummy scented candles and oils so your house always smells like pumpkin or cookies or cinnamon spice.
I even like the the lights that come on at night this time of year. Traffic lights and street lights and car lights all lit up before I leave the office remind me that soon I'll be lighting the inside of my house in anticipation of Christmas. I like to think that all this light also makes people a little kinder with each other and maybe even to themselves. Okay...maybe that's just me.
I know that by mid-January I'll be over it all and pissed off about the weather and tired of being cold, but for now I'm just going to go home and snuggle in my warm home and thank God that I'm blessed to be warm and fed and most of all...loved.
Namaste
Monday, November 18, 2013
And just like that...it's gone
After I wrote my post on Friday I was in a funk. I just couldn't figure out how I was going to learn to let shit go. How was I going to be free of all this guilt and shame I carry around like the proverbial albatross around my neck. Even the hubs, who is normally my greatest supporter, was baffled as to why I was carrying around something that was 1) in the past and 2) turned out FINE. He picked me up from work and by the time we got home I was even more depressed than I was when I got in the car.
Once home I hooked up the dogs and went for a walk to clear my head. Along the way I started praying...
"Yo Dude, please help me to figure out a way to let all of this ugly guilt and shame about Brian go. I can't take it anymore. It's too painful and too heavy. I'm turning in over to you...it's yours. Do with it what you will."
And...naturally the sky chose that particular moment to lighten ever so slightly and with it, so did my mood. I felt a calm come over me and I felt...love.
And I couldn't fucking believe it.
But of course we can't just turn it over right...no, we have to try and take it back. So my brain started inching back to...
"But what if he had died...I let him down."
And then I clearly heard, "Let it go...I've got this."
It still gives me butterflies when I think about it. It was VERY clear and, since I've heard that voice before, I knew exactly who was talking to me.
So I walked along with a smile on my face and much lighter in step and I thought, if He helped that quickly with one issue, why not try another?
"Okay Lord - then what do I do about the hubs? Help me to help him."
To which He clearly replied..
"That's on him. Leave him to Me."
Well DAMN. Talk about being put in your place! When the Big Guy tell you to back off you back the hell off.
Next thought, "Should I talk to..."
"TALK TO HIM about how you feel."
Whoa. But you know God...it's impolite to interrupt. And you don't have to raise your voice...I can hear you.
I finished my walk, went home and talked to the hubs about what I'd heard. I checked my emotions and still no guilt, no shame. Then read my wrist. I was still for the rest of the evening. And I was happy. And light.
Saturday morning I got up and the hubs and I talked like we haven't in many months. It was great for both of us to get some things on the table and get inside each other's heads. (I highly recommend it.)
Today I am lighter than I've been in months. I've thought a couple of times about the Brian incident and checked myself...nope...no shame...no guilt. Only a feeling of infinite gratefulness that he's okay.
Have a wonderful week people. If you get a chance, have a chat with the Big Guy. He's pretty awesome if you ask me.
Namaste
Once home I hooked up the dogs and went for a walk to clear my head. Along the way I started praying...
"Yo Dude, please help me to figure out a way to let all of this ugly guilt and shame about Brian go. I can't take it anymore. It's too painful and too heavy. I'm turning in over to you...it's yours. Do with it what you will."
And...naturally the sky chose that particular moment to lighten ever so slightly and with it, so did my mood. I felt a calm come over me and I felt...love.
And I couldn't fucking believe it.
But of course we can't just turn it over right...no, we have to try and take it back. So my brain started inching back to...
"But what if he had died...I let him down."
And then I clearly heard, "Let it go...I've got this."
It still gives me butterflies when I think about it. It was VERY clear and, since I've heard that voice before, I knew exactly who was talking to me.
So I walked along with a smile on my face and much lighter in step and I thought, if He helped that quickly with one issue, why not try another?
"Okay Lord - then what do I do about the hubs? Help me to help him."
To which He clearly replied..
"That's on him. Leave him to Me."
Well DAMN. Talk about being put in your place! When the Big Guy tell you to back off you back the hell off.
Next thought, "Should I talk to..."
"TALK TO HIM about how you feel."
Whoa. But you know God...it's impolite to interrupt. And you don't have to raise your voice...I can hear you.
I finished my walk, went home and talked to the hubs about what I'd heard. I checked my emotions and still no guilt, no shame. Then read my wrist. I was still for the rest of the evening. And I was happy. And light.
Saturday morning I got up and the hubs and I talked like we haven't in many months. It was great for both of us to get some things on the table and get inside each other's heads. (I highly recommend it.)
Today I am lighter than I've been in months. I've thought a couple of times about the Brian incident and checked myself...nope...no shame...no guilt. Only a feeling of infinite gratefulness that he's okay.
Have a wonderful week people. If you get a chance, have a chat with the Big Guy. He's pretty awesome if you ask me.
Namaste
Friday, November 15, 2013
More on Emotions
My wise and wonderful blogging friend Furtherton over at Guitars and Life, wrote a post the other day on emotions and how he's learned to deal with them. I told him in my comments that I needed to really think about what he had written...really. And so I did.
Really.
What I discovered is that I'm still, after all this time, not really allowing myself to feel and process my emotions appropriately. I'm still stuffing shit down. The primary reason for this, I discovered after really (no really) thinking about it, is that I never learned how to process them in a meaningful and healthy way. I mean, I get angry and yell. I throw tantrums from time to time. I get moody and irrational. I get overly excited about possibilities. I cry (or I'm learning to anyway).
But those are the surface emotions. The day to day shit that everyone experiences. They sit on the outside of my heart and just irritate it. I feel them, but I can give them a whoosh of breath and they are carried away on the wind like dandelion seeds on a late summer afternoon. And then I return to my happy place and move on. Like normal people.
But the shit down deep? That's an entirely different story. That's the stuff that lives inside my heart. The stuff that eats away at my heart and creates scar tissue that builds a wall of resentment against the world...or maybe just against myself. Some of it is very, very old. It's beginning to disintegrate on it's own and that's okay. But some of it is still as fresh as the day it found its way into my fragile soul and still it chomps and chews and hurts.
Example...for some reason a couple of nights ago I started thinking about how Brian got sick last year and ended up in the hospital with pneumonia and that he could have died. Seriously...he could have fucking died! I got that "thing" in the pit of my stomach and before I could admonish myself (good grief Sherry just let it GO for Christ's sake) I stopped and thought about Furtherton's post and decided to really (no really) think about what I was feeling.
So I tried.
I closed my eyes and let the feeling rise...and what rose was...shame. Yep, that singular emotion that follows me no matter where I turn. Shame. I'm ashamed that I didn't listen to my gut and take him to Urgent Care. I'm ashamed that I put money (we had no insurance at the time) in front of my child's health. I'm the mom. It's my job to protect and care for them. I'm ashamed I let him down.
And then I did what I always do, rather than sitting with the emotion and really feeling it, I acknowledged it and did my best Scarlett O'Hara impersonation. I decided I'd think about it another time when I could "really give it some thought". Because I'm busy. I don't have time for all this introspection. It take time to process all this stuff!
Let me translate that for you people...it hurt too much to process so I didn't. I stuffed it back down.
Yeah...how's that workin' for ya Sherry?
Then there's the day to day stuff. The fact that the hubs and I are not communicating right now and I'm beginning to resent it. It's not a surface thing. It's a thing that's worming its way into my heart and creating a big ole' pile of steaming resentment. I keep treating it like it's just on the surface...a minor irritation. I keep trying to blow it away but it never leaves. But instead of sitting with it and figuring out why I'm feeling the way I'm feeling, I just brush it off to old age...or empty nest syndrome...or (insert other euphemism or tired phrase here). I stuff it back down.
So now to the million dollar question...why am I still stuffing? I've smoked, drank (or is it drunk), shopped and eaten my way through all this stuffing and I'm still doing it! Why?
Fear.
I'm afraid of what I'll find if I poke too hard or prod too much. Isn't that what we alcoholics find at the root of everything? Fear? We walk through life afraid of everything and so we flee. Flee to the bottle, or the needle, or the kitchen or the shopping center or casino or Internet. We run away rather than face what frightens us.
Again my stubborn psyche...how's that workin' for ya'?
It's not. I've got to figure out how to feel the feelings. To not run away. To process them. And then...
Let. Them. Go.
Just when I think I'm done, I discover more work to to in this whole "recovery" thing. OR maybe that's just how the normal people do it. Either way, put me back in the oven...I'm not done yet.
Namaste
Really.
What I discovered is that I'm still, after all this time, not really allowing myself to feel and process my emotions appropriately. I'm still stuffing shit down. The primary reason for this, I discovered after really (no really) thinking about it, is that I never learned how to process them in a meaningful and healthy way. I mean, I get angry and yell. I throw tantrums from time to time. I get moody and irrational. I get overly excited about possibilities. I cry (or I'm learning to anyway).
But those are the surface emotions. The day to day shit that everyone experiences. They sit on the outside of my heart and just irritate it. I feel them, but I can give them a whoosh of breath and they are carried away on the wind like dandelion seeds on a late summer afternoon. And then I return to my happy place and move on. Like normal people.
But the shit down deep? That's an entirely different story. That's the stuff that lives inside my heart. The stuff that eats away at my heart and creates scar tissue that builds a wall of resentment against the world...or maybe just against myself. Some of it is very, very old. It's beginning to disintegrate on it's own and that's okay. But some of it is still as fresh as the day it found its way into my fragile soul and still it chomps and chews and hurts.
Example...for some reason a couple of nights ago I started thinking about how Brian got sick last year and ended up in the hospital with pneumonia and that he could have died. Seriously...he could have fucking died! I got that "thing" in the pit of my stomach and before I could admonish myself (good grief Sherry just let it GO for Christ's sake) I stopped and thought about Furtherton's post and decided to really (no really) think about what I was feeling.
So I tried.
I closed my eyes and let the feeling rise...and what rose was...shame. Yep, that singular emotion that follows me no matter where I turn. Shame. I'm ashamed that I didn't listen to my gut and take him to Urgent Care. I'm ashamed that I put money (we had no insurance at the time) in front of my child's health. I'm the mom. It's my job to protect and care for them. I'm ashamed I let him down.
And then I did what I always do, rather than sitting with the emotion and really feeling it, I acknowledged it and did my best Scarlett O'Hara impersonation. I decided I'd think about it another time when I could "really give it some thought". Because I'm busy. I don't have time for all this introspection. It take time to process all this stuff!
Let me translate that for you people...it hurt too much to process so I didn't. I stuffed it back down.
Yeah...how's that workin' for ya Sherry?
Then there's the day to day stuff. The fact that the hubs and I are not communicating right now and I'm beginning to resent it. It's not a surface thing. It's a thing that's worming its way into my heart and creating a big ole' pile of steaming resentment. I keep treating it like it's just on the surface...a minor irritation. I keep trying to blow it away but it never leaves. But instead of sitting with it and figuring out why I'm feeling the way I'm feeling, I just brush it off to old age...or empty nest syndrome...or (insert other euphemism or tired phrase here). I stuff it back down.
So now to the million dollar question...why am I still stuffing? I've smoked, drank (or is it drunk), shopped and eaten my way through all this stuffing and I'm still doing it! Why?
Fear.
I'm afraid of what I'll find if I poke too hard or prod too much. Isn't that what we alcoholics find at the root of everything? Fear? We walk through life afraid of everything and so we flee. Flee to the bottle, or the needle, or the kitchen or the shopping center or casino or Internet. We run away rather than face what frightens us.
Again my stubborn psyche...how's that workin' for ya'?
It's not. I've got to figure out how to feel the feelings. To not run away. To process them. And then...
Let. Them. Go.
Just when I think I'm done, I discover more work to to in this whole "recovery" thing. OR maybe that's just how the normal people do it. Either way, put me back in the oven...I'm not done yet.
Namaste
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