A decade of honesty & self loathing – my journey with sobriety

It does not feel like ten years.

Just the other night I was “reminiscing” with friends about parties we went to and different events we somehow managed to crash and it felt like it was a LIFETIME ago.

No, it definitely does not feel like ten years.

People will ask me from time to time if I miss drinking and I’m like… “LOL YES?? I’m a fucking alcoholic….”

To me, being an alcoholic means admitting that I am powerless over drugs and alcohol. It means that I have a serious problem with moderation. It means that I cannot remember a time I drank that didn’t involve me getting sick, fighting or both.

For me, personally, it is not a daily struggle. Anymore. The first 3 years were the hardest and then it kind of became second nature.

I’m not going to lie and say there haven’t been triggering moments where I’m craving, wanting or even NEEDING a drink (a whole bottle, I never did “a drink”..) because those moments happened when I least expected them since day one.

It was more frequent in the beginning – like, everything triggered me wanting a drink.

  • Car won’t start? DRINK
  • Late for work? DRINK
  • Got yelled at? DRINK
  • Bills are late? DRINK
  • Short on cash? DRINK
  • Lonely as hell? DRINK
  • Someone said/did something you didn’t like? DRINK

And then it was just petty shit…

  • Woke up? DRINK
  • Went to work? DRINK
  • It’s the weekend? DRINK
  • Bored? DRINK
  • Saw booze? DRINK
  • STLL ALIVE? DRIIIINK
  • LIFE SUCKS ASS?? DRRRRIIIIINNK DAMNIT!!!

Somehow I made it through most of all that unscathed and I lived to tell the tale.

The hardest part of my recovery is the loneliness. I almost wrote “crippling loneliness” but it’s definitely not crippling, I’m just dramatic. It’s a very lonely world when you are not completely submerged in “the fellowship” – which in my experience is mostly a cult but maybe I haven’t found the right one……?

It’s hard for people to relate and they think you’re some boring ass-hat who doesn’t like to have fun. It’s like NO! I’m the epitome of fun! I know how to party, believe me!! I’ve been court ordered to rehab… TWICE! They don’t do that for people who DONT know how to party! Please be my friend! LET ME LOVE YOU!!!

Beyond the loneliness factor – I do have a SOLID group of friends who I wouldn’t trade for the fucking world. These are friends who keep me on my toes, engaged with the world and they love and respect me.

These past ten years have been so incredible. Mostly because I can remember most of it! I hate remembering it all but at the same time I don’t. It’s win/lose, you know?

Lose because the bad sticks with me forever until I have enough therapy sessions to let it dissolve and float away.

WIN because I have DONE and SEEN and EXPERIENCED some amazing shit in these past ten years. Things I never could have dreamt of, things that were never a possibility when I was active in my addiction.

Well, here I am… doing all that feelin’ shit.

Lol why are my neighbors screaming? Like, I know they are from Virginia but it’s NOT the first time it’s snowed and they are on the front steps yelling… athe snow. They do drugs. It’s fine, they smoke weed and I can’t judge them because they are older and they’ve lived their lives so if they want to get stoned on a Sunday afternoon and yell at the snow who am I to say shit?? But my WALL neighbors (the ones I share a wall with) are annoying as hell. Mostly the girlfriend that just moved in last year. The guy isn’t so bad and he’s hot but her voice echoes through these walls and penetrate your eardrum like a needle poking through a thick cloth. I want to slap her. I’m going to sleep with her man. Whatever. I’m a bad bitch.

ANYWAY – here is a journal entry I found from 2009 shortly after I sobered up:

“Leah and Mandi are drunk now, talking to these men as we sit under an umbrella in an already enclosed patio space. As I stare into the skeletal structure of this massive umbrella, the crisp static of conversations around me barely making its own at into my thoughts, I’m wondering how such an ill conceived idea as umbrella-d tables in a covered smoking patio came to be when I noticed a hand caressing my knee.

Not in a sexual advance kind of way, more of a friendly way, but he was no friend. Not even someone I could call an acquaintance. Just some tired old guy in a tired old gay bar trying to regain my attention.

The night was just a bunch of brief encounters full of compliments, insults & derogatory remarks (mostly from Leah and the man who eerily resembled Chris Frank).

I don’t know how we managed to break ties with these guys we were smoking with but I do remember Leah’s booming laughter trailed by “there’s too much estrogen here, let’s go to Pi”…

I chuckled nervously, she always knew what NOT to say. I look at my nails judging. They’re too square and I hate that. I always ask for round and for some reason they always make them square. I hate square. Square nails are gaudy. Square nails are for women without class, tact or grace. I don’t want to be at the bar anymore.

When I was younger I thought that sitting in a bar with a cigarette lit in one hand and a drink in another was the epitome of greatness.

In reality it was as me sitting slouched over a mug of rail vodka & dry ass cranberry juice listening to bad remixes of already bad songs… standing outside to smoke a cigarette while fat sweaty men hang all over their fat sweaty girlfriends.

I went to bars to drink away my problems at home. I drank at home to forget who I was.

I started drinking to be cool and have fun. I quit because I wasn’t cool and I wasn’t having fun.

I don’t know where I’m going, I barely know where I’m coming from. But… finally, I feel like I’m beginning to know who I am.”

And that’s that. I’m going to buy a pack of smokes and enjoy this beautiful snowy day.

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They say that breaking up is hard to do

Its not the breaking up that is hard. No. Its the inevitable hurricane of emotion that follows that is “hard to do”.

After my recent break up I was left feeling completely devastated. Confused. Lost. Sad. Angry. All of those swirling, icky feelings that are associated with breaking up. I was consumed by depression and a belief that “I’m worthless. I’m not good enough. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not”

In my heart I clung to the idea that perhaps it wasn’t real, that it was just a thing, he wasn’t serious, he would come around. He didn’t just fall out of love with me. That stuff was all just some bad dream and any second now he’d be here, wanting me, desperate to take me into his arms and love me forever.

Wow.

My head knew it was all too real. My head knew that it was the end – I had lost my love. All the dreams we had, the future we had created for ourselves, it was all gone and I knew it. I just didn’t want to believe it.

I lied to myself for weeks. I told myself it’s not real! It’s not happening! I continued living in this deluded world where he was my soul mate and that he knew this, he felt the same way, and that he was dying to be with me, too. 

Why did I continue this lie for so long?

Part of it was sheer embarrassment. Do people see me as less than? Do they think I’m a loser? Here I am, pining over a man who kicked me out – booted me to the curb and said he was no longer in love and I am crying over him. Pathetic. No strong woman would be feeling this way! No strong woman would be laying in a pile of used tissue, sobbing over her phone and the worthless text messages he had sent.

I felt like an idiot. Was it all a lie? Was the past 5 years just some fucking joke? Did I make up this happy relationship just like I had made up the idea that he still loved me? Holy shit. Why did all of this happen? What did I do wrong? Did I not see the signs? Were there signs? I bet there were but I was too lost in love to notice that he was just lost? What could I do to change, to make it better? I begged him to love me. I went there. I said I wouldn’t and I did, I caved and I actually begged him to love me. That was low, so so so low.

Most of it was sadness. So much incredible sadness – I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I was drowning – trapped in a pit of endless despair. I felt like a soaking wet rag being wrung out by a really aggressive person with strong hands. I was being twisted and life was escaping me. He was my love. My future. He just… was. And then he just… wasn’t, and I didn’t want it to be happening. I loved him so deeply. I never imagined a life without him because he said I didn’t have to, and he changed his mind.

Holy shit.

This whole amazingly crazy awesome cool part of my life was ripped away from me all too suddenly. I didn’t focus any of my time to really process what was happening. I started reading shitty blogs highlighting the top 8 things to do after a break up, the top 15 songs to listen to after a breakup, the top everything related to breakups that are supposed to help you feel like less of a worthless piece of shit. It was all garbage. I didn’t want to read shitty poetry and listen to shitty 90’s R&B and shitty shitty shitty.

It was all shitty.

And then. THEN.

I wanted to beat the shit out of him.

I wanted to drive my car directly into his fucking house.

I wanted to destroy his life.

Those feelings were fleeting, lasting a quick day, and then I realized it was just another dumb ass part of the whole grieving process. Whatever. Anger felt right. Anger always feels good on me. I look good in rage.

Acceptance. Sitting in my grungy pajamas on the guest bed in my old bosses house, watching Sex and the City wondering what I will do next. According to Charlotte [I think I’m a Carrie/Miranda hybrid] it will take me approximately 1/2 the time we were together to get over the loss of the relationship.

5 years = 2.5 years?! I mean… interesting. Right now it seems almost quite realistic. I still have trouble sleeping. I think of him throughout the day, I still hope for a call. I’m not still hoping but I am still hurting. Even though the relationship dissolved without me noticing I still love the man. 2.5 years seems so excessive. This is just silly.

2.5 years to accept reality? That sounds insane.

I feel like maybe some great pizza, friends and a shopping spree will help immensely. Will it take 2.5 years? I fucking hope not. Will it be quick and easy? No, and I am slowly becoming kind of OK with that.

Now… now I just have to keep on keepin’ on.

 

Hats, Scarves, Gloves & Boots

Morning seems to come earlier and earlier this time of year, especially when the cold comes with it. Image

Today is blustery cold. There is nothing to do outside besides freeze and DIE. Getting out of bed was probably one of the hardest things I have had to do in a really long time. Even the dog didn’t want to go out this morning and he is never concerned with the weather. Unfortunately, I get to work only to find out that I am not needed today. That is my life today.

It is actually warm here, in the training room. Comfortably warm. Nap warm. I don’t think I will ever leave this room!

I would love some coffee. I have some with me however  it is completely tasteless and blagh. Well, it is flavorful. I guess its all because I am a creamer kind of gal. Sugarless now, actually, I just really enjoy a splash of creamer in my coffee. MMMMMmmmm that milky goodness! French Vanilla, Vanilla, Hazelnut, Fat Free, Sugar Free… whatever! I love it! If you are in the Richfield area and happen to swing by my work with a bit of creamer I will smile at you and tell you a story about something while I drink my coffee. We can sit together in the training room and talk about life and our dreams and the days to come and what sort of goodies the future has in store for us. And then, I will ask you to leave, and leave you will because no one likes to overstay their welcome. You will go back into the cold tundra and I will stay, comfortably warm & tucked away, in the toasty training room.

Today will be a good day.

QUESTION: has anyone seen Sharknado on Netflix and IF SO – two questions – 1] what were you thinking? 2] was it entertaining?

Note how I didn’t ask “was it good”… to me a movie doesn’t have to be good to be entertaining. For instance, Joe Dirt… HA! Now, I don’t think anyone would call that cinematic gold [besides the Martini family & a few select others who happen to have a great sense of humor and a solid understanding of what it truly means be white trash] BUT it is a terribly entertaining movie! Terribly! I remember being SOOOOOO excited when Netflix added Joe Dirt. Oh, SO excited! I am pretty sure I blogged about it!

I can hear people giggling. The heat registers not only carry heat but sound as well. Not clearly though. It’s not as if I could sit here and carry on conversations with people in the next room but I can hear faint voices, pick up bits and pieces of things. I feel like a spy. I want to BE a spy!

Dalston

 

 

 

 

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Got this new nail color from a gal pal last week… wishing my nails weren’t so jankity so I can test it out! It has a leather effect [hence the name] so once it dries it has this CRAZY leathery finish to it. Pretty cool actually, I tested it out on one nail and I couldn’t help but continuously run my finger over it.

I am all about textures. I love the soft, ripply feeling of worn out leather. I prefer it to new leather, there is something almost sterile about new leather to me. I can’t quite put my finger on it but there is something kind of off about new leather. Too stiff? I don’t know but I definitely don’t like cracked worn out leather either.

Hard to please, I guess.

Last night my manfriend and I decided to spoil ourselves with some Dairy Queen. We got ourselves so excited and even loaded the dog up for the 2 mile trip for a tasty treat. Well… “our” Dairy Queen is awkwardly located in the back of a strip-mall parking lot with access on ALL sides. So, when you approach the drive-through from 3 of the 4 entrances you run the risk of crossing paths with a total idiot. This guy in a tiny beat up Saturn was barreling towards the drive through which we were already in the painted drive entrance on our way to the order window and he seriously couldn’t contain himself. Obviously he was experiencing an ice cream emergency because he sped up headed directly towards us – well directly towards me in the passanger seat – at 20 miles an hour [I shit you not, straight speeding for some Queen] and because we were already inches from the drive through window naturally my boyfriend doesn’t stop. This was not pleasing to this guy and he proceeds to honk at us. Not one quick “hey, I wanted to be where you are now” honk, or even a couple short bursts of “what the fuck?” honks… NO… he let out one long, loud, impatient “I’m a total fuck-tard who has no decency or common sense” honk. I was livid. And I love confrontation. So I sat in my seat and started screaming nonsense at him from the window and turned in my seat to glare at him as he waited for us to order. I continued to stare at him as we got our Blizzards and requested that we leave the window at an obnoxiously slow pace.

My boyfriend, Reed, suggested that maybe the guy is diabetic and really needed ice cream… I wasn’t having any of that. What kind of diabetic rolls around without hard candy??? I’ve seen Steel Magnolia’s enough times to know that when people have diabetes they and everyone they know keep hard candies around for such purposes.

Don’t honk at me unless you want my undivided attention.

I don’t work on Monday’s.

That pleases me.