Saying Yes When You Really Mean No

Apparently, I have taken a dramatic stand in my social circle. I have said no, not shown up, declined invitations to events that I do not want to go to with people that in truth are not my friends. They are friends with my friends, but I don't care two shits about them. They either annoy me or they have been rude to me on countless occasions, or to my point in this post, they have substance abuse issues that make them incredibly unattractive as friends. It's just true. I am at a place now in my sobriety where I am confident in myself, I love my own company and the company of my family, and I do not care to spend time with people who I don't really like or respect. Or who are just boring. And I am not going to apologize for it anymore.

When I think back to the many years, weekends, and lost hours of drinking, I am struck by a feeling of loss. I can never get those moments back. These are moments I could have spent traveling, meditating, practicing yoga, cultivating lasting friendships. Instead, I spent my time with people who didn't care about me and I did not care about them. Or if I did, I lost touch with them because of my dependence on substances to interact with people. I was too timid and scared of being vulnerable. I didn't want to do the work of really cultivating a friendship. Or, I only really hung out with them because drinking or smoking. The easiest thing to do in many of these "relationships" was to walk away and torch the bridge behind me. And maybe I don't regret these moments because I was young and this is what I wanted to do at the time. But I am changing and growing and expanding now. And I am not going to apologize for that!

And I realize that many friendships fizzle-out and fade over time. I have accepted (mostly) that my relationship with Allison is like a cousin. I love her and her family, but we don't have the soul sister connection that I had with Lindsey or Joni in the past. Those relationships were of a time, and that time has passed. Partly because of decisions I have made, and partly for decisions that were made by others, and partly because that is life. Now my best friend really is Jeff and my mom and sisters. If I need to pour out the contents of my heart and soul, I call Lisa and Angela. Friends have really changed in function. They are people to go to dinner with or go to art crawls or yoga festivals or what have you, but they don't want to know the content of my soul. They want congenial company, not a complicated human struggling with the constant change of refining and discovering who they are. And that is fine, but I am not going to pretend I am something I am not to fit in with anyone. I will not apologize for who I am. Not no more.

The next step is to find a church, a fellowship. I think I am ready to join a church and community that is dedicated to changing the world, helping others, and nurturing the spirit. These ladies who invite me to things out of a sense of obligation do not share my values, my hopes, my dreams. I want to grow my world and hanging out in the same old ways, having the same dull-ass conversation ("oh my god, how cute! where did you buy that?? I have been here to buy blank and I'm getting my kids x,y,z...') are making me feel resentful, angry, and small. I am rejecting these things because they no longer serve me. I am saying no to the things I don't want to do. I don't want to buy things and watch bitches get drunk. I don't want to eat vegan food with potheads. I don't need to dictate the content of every conversation, but I am incredibly bored by most people after a long week of work. I don't want to be around most people. I don't need it and I am not going to do it to satisfy others. I know this means I won't be invited, but I truly want to not feel this way: like I am obligated to go or am being a bitch because I really don't want to participate. And I really don't want to be made to feel that I need to apologize or equivocate for who I am and how I really honestly feel.

What I DO want:

• more conversations about the expansiveness and beauty of practicing yoga and meditation
• more conversations about books
• a time to talk about the future: dreams for career and travels, not consuming crap
• not needing to hide the fact that consuming alcohol is horrible for your health. and we are getting older, so it's really stupid to continue living a life of excess
• going to lunch and museums and bookstores and movies THEN coffee to talk about the movie
• play dates with coffee and actually paying attention to our kids
• a real connection that makes me feel full and good about myself, rather than disappointed and angry
• sharing hobbies with friends and getting together to chat and hobby together

In other words, when drinking is the goal, I am out. When a problem drinker like Sarah is hosting an event called "Boozy Brunch" then I am OUT. I don't want to go. For whatever reason, I make you uncomfortable, so you make me uncomfortable. You don't want me there. I get it. Sober bitches harsh your buzz and make it hard for you to like yourself. Of course, we all realize this is because you drink alcoholically and you know it's not good so it's another reason to hate yourself. So we are more alike than not. And we could be friends, but we won't be because you would rather be a freaky control freak who drinks. So I will go my way and you can host your stupid brunches and you don't need to feel obligated to invite me. I will have dinner with my friends a few times a year, and they will invite me to things that are not alcohol-centric and I will love them for that. And when my friends host something, I will see you there and have no hard feelings, but you will know that I don't go to everything and that's because I respect myself and love myself and take care of myself. It's called having boundaries and y'all should really look into it cuz it's the fucking bomb. And I am not fucking sorry.

Gratitudes. 11.17.17

I am grateful. For Angela, my beautiful sister. Always my champion, Always someone I can be proud of, and brag about. I am grateful that her kids have someone to fight for them. I am grateful that when she sees an injustice and that something will be hard, she fights harder, with more determination, not less. I am grateful that I can pour my heart out to her in just the way I would and she accepts and loves every part. I am so grateful to have that connection with another human being.

I am grateful for my family: Jeff, Eddie, and Maggie. My reasons always, but also hilarious, cute, smart, cuddly, sweet people. My people. I am so grateful to have people.

I am grateful for my career, my profession, my professional family, my school, my kids. I am so grateful that I knew enough to know, even at a young age, that this would be the career for me. I am so grateful that Popi loved me and paid for my school and my many, many mistakes to get to this point. I hope he can see me and know that his actions are still impacting this earth in positive ways.

I am so grateful for my grandparents and their love and support of my parents. I can feel the power of my ancestors inside me. The fact that we are here is a miracle. I pray that I keep an ever-deepening sense of awe about me.

This will be our first Thanksgiving as a family that is in love with each other, not running, but so, so happy to be here. I am so thankful that God spoke and I finally listened. I am so grateful to be free.

PS. Also supes grateful for all there is to read on my Kindle and elsewhere. And writing. And naps. And long runs, yoga, and breath. Love, love, love.

Dreams and Things

Last night's dreams were critical of my principal and school. Teachers are the only ones to get the feedback, and it's usually not timely or directly offered. Which makes it feel like people are just judging and not trying to help.

Yesterday was the craziest: I have a student who is leaving school because he has cancer. He is going to be homeschooled while he goes through treatment. These kids have no idea how to handle it. Another girl--who I know was a cutter last year--told me her cousin killed herself by overdosing on pills. And another--all in the same class--was crying because she was put on the 3rd string basketball team, even tho she is far and away the strongest player in the school. Because she has a bad attitude. From last season. I don't agree.

We are here to help these kids develop. We must help nurture as well as teach content. They cannot be separated, and yet, so many of these kids complain that their teachers lack the ability or willingness to connect and have any empathy for what they are going through. This week as we've been writing, kids have had a voice, much more of a voice than usual, and I have loved my job. Train them to find the warm up. Give a simple direction for them to follow at the start. While they work, I hand out Tiger Tickets (need to find a system for how to reward them in class). Pair-Share is next. This is a great place to start with journaling so that I incorporate daily writing practice. I want this to be a part of everyday life in my class. Build community. Build empathy. Create a safe space and teach these practices of self-awareness in class.

The way I dealt with my arch-nemesis Jennifer. She talked during my entire class. I asked her to go outside. I asked her, "What do you want to feel like when you are walking out of my class to go home today?" Totally baffled her. She said, "Good." And I agreed. We both want to feel good at the end of class. It's simple. We both have to get our needs met, but we will have conflict if we never think about the other person as important as yourself. I just want to be a force for good. I want them to learn how to write and read, but that's the easy part. It's the soul stuff that requires me to grow as a human being on this earth. 

I feel so privileged to be here. I feel so privileged to do this work and to be entrusted with these kids. So much gratitude for my life and experiences. So much amazement that I am here.

morning musings

I started working out again at the end of October. It was hard to get started. I felt creaky and fat. and tired.  But I had Wanderlust--a spiritual triathlon yoga festival and 5k to prepare for.  With this goal in mind, I downloaded Couch to 5k for the 100th time, and I started run/walking and doing yoga.  Well, I ran nearly all of the 5k, did yoga like a champ, loved the shit out of the mindfulness meditation, and felt like I had broken right open in my whole heart.  And even though I loved it, it also hurt to be so vulnerable. I realize that I hate being vulnerable and left open to an extent.  I have learned to love it and be really pretty good at it in certain situations, but others leave me closed off to the world, hostile, and angry.  And when I am busy shielding my vulnerability from people, my empathy turns off like a light switch.

I tried to explain to Edwin why I don't want him to drink alcohol as a young guy.  It sounded desperate and scary in my head, my voice did, but I know that just by talking about it, I am doing something.  If and when he takes a drink before he moves out on his own, he will be armed with the knowledge and understanding that mom and dad do not approve and there will be no permissiveness around drinking or drugs in our home. When he's an adult, or even just old enough to be in college and on his own, I want him to know that there are people who can drink in a "healthy" way, but alcohol is a neurotoxin and therefore not healthy in any way.  Just know what you are ingesting and choosing for your body and be mindful.  I would be happy if no one drank anywhere ever again.  You are just making the peddlers of poison rich off your illness.

And for the first time, I feel like I really made love and received pleasure.  My mantra was "You deserve pleasure."  And the difference was, I wasn't trying to perform for Jeff.  I wasn't trying to be this amazing giver of pleasure.  I was just completely there in the kissing and all of it.  And it was hot as shit.  We both felt amazing during and after and it was so, so good.  This wellness journey, this recovering of me-who I am really is about so much more than sobriety; tho sobriety is what makes it all possible.  And I understand that it threatens people who know that I am vibrating at a higher, much higher consciousness than they are.  You are scared of me because I represent change, and change hurts.  But you know I am right.  You know that your days as a "party" person are by definition limited.  You can do all of the working-out and dieting that you want, but it all catches us in the end.  Choose to know thyself and you will be free.  Namaste, bitches.

mornings 10/31/17

You are here.
You are still alive.

This is my mantra.  The shit and depression have been back this week.  It's totally physical in nature.  And the unsettling chemical awareness that I cannot trust my thoughts, my mouth, or my actions. I am impulsive, negative, nasty, and mean unless I try really hard not to be. But now that I teetotal like a motherfucker, I paid close attention to what was going on, I named it, I reached out to colleagues and family, I listened to the voice of God, I followed the serendipitous path outside myself and found connections to the world that are bringing me back to center.  Because it is my responsibility.  Me. I am my number one job.  And I joke about being an adult and not having any fun and life is lame and that is depressing me, but that is because I am depressed.  When I am not depressed, I find that almost every act has an element of joy.  It's when I am complaining too much that I feel weighted down by the misery.

So I lifted some heavy things, I went out for a walk and a run two days now in a row, I woke up this morning for energizing yoga.  I was reminded that setting my intention is a good way to control my moods instead of them controlling me like a goddam puppet on a string.  I want to be here.  Really here for my kids.  My dad and Lindsey and Ed and Donnie and so many other addicted, sick, depressed people that I have loved in my life couldn't seem to do this, so they threw their lives away.  Our hearts beat 4,000 times per hour?  That's a fucking miracle. 

I'm feeling uninspired in my teaching because I haven't been writing.  I can't model inspiration if I am not practicing it.  This poem that I found by Rudy Francisco is perfect and totally imitable.  The Barry Lane lead of quoting interesting facts.  Playing with metaphor and sensory language. Writing on a theme.  There are a lot of interesting things we could do with this.  Life is brilliant. Today is Halloween and I get to watch my little people have fun.  Even Eddie, who is growing up and slowly pulling away, is still my little guy and would rather be with us than in some unfamiliar situation with new middle school friends.  This is so comforting.  He doesn't want to run away and be anywhere but home like I was beginning to feel at his age.  I am doing an amazing job.  God listens to my heartbeat on his iPod.  So many great lines from these slam poets.  I want to post their brilliance all around the room and be constantly reminded that there is beauty and hope and magic and miracles everywhere fucking where.  And they are us and we are them.

Name the Feeling

Heather asked if I would host a "potluck" get-together for Lindsey's bday at my house (Greg's idea, apparently). Coincidentally, I was reading today (or yesterday- they all seem to bleed together) about the 4 steps to assuaging anxiety. Step 1 name the feeling. Step 2 write about it. So here I am.

In short, the feeling I have about this idea is a vehement no. No! NO. I won't host a party with Lindsey's "close" friends (but maybe if it were just family, but still no). And why? In short: my sobriety, my family's sobriety, and my desire to honor Lindsey in a sober space are more important than making other people happy and providing a convenient location to get drunk and cry about Lindsey.

I respect that Heather doesn't normally drink that much, but she was a fucking mess at the "service." No thanks. I am not going to make myself privy to that kind of a scene.  Gee, Heather, how did she "suddenly" develop an addiction to pain meds??  Stay focused, Laura. The fact is, I loved Lindsey, but not necessarily the scene she ran in.  She was my childhood friend, but the older we got, the harder it was to relate and sometimes even love her.  She often, regularly, predictably found herself in fucked up situations and I tried to help, I did, even to my own detriment, even to the detriment of my own relationships because I loved her and I missed my best friend. But I don't have to do that anymore because she is gone. I don't have to sacrifice my home and my emotional well-being to spend a little time with her ghost. I just don't.

Of course, the request comes in the form of a text and I find it oh-so-burdensome to respond in a text. It's too much to say in a fucking text.  What I want to say is that the image that is the clearest in my mind about Lindsey's death is not the gun, the bullet, the hole in her head. It's that empty bottle of vodka they found in the room.  The bottles of pills.  It's one of the last things she said to me "I could never do that (quit drinking)." It's the fact that she pretended everything was okay until she couldn't anymore. It was a life of addiction, deceit of others and of self, that I can't stop thinking about. It's all the times we used together. It's how it turned dark and scary really quickly and there was an innocence there that was never recovered between us, but I have recovered it for myself, and I know she could have, too.

I don't have the fucking energy or the inclination to pretend like the illness was anything other than addiction. Mental illness brought on by addiction. I know it's more nuanced than that, but I am not here to facilitate a drunken meeting of her friends. Not doing it. I know I am awesome, and I can be a charming and benevolent hostess, but I'm not doing this to make anyone feel better.  I lost her, too, and I am going to take care of me.

June 20th, New Day

Lesson number 1 of early sobriety: All feelings are fleeting. Wherever you feel you are, you can count on the feeling, the situation, and the circumstances surrounding the feeling to change. Of course, there are things you can DO to change things, but very little is up to you- it's going to change with or without your participation.  All you can do is decide on the attitude you will adopt when everything is going on: acceptance and release of judgment, fear, and labeling or calling every unpleasant thought depression or anxiety.

For me, everything worked out with Dad. He was sent home with orders to exercise and eat better. I asked him to please take care of himself, and of course, I cried and was sad, but I was also able to move through the feeling of anxiety and sadness when I realized that either way, I have zero control over what he chooses to do with his life and body.  I would be willing to have him live with us, but I need to work on accepting that I cannot control anything about how he chooses to live or die. If I want to step up to this responsibility, I need to really look deeply at my motivation and work at letting shit go.

I had a convo with Lisa and one with Angela. I could hear the concern in both of them about my choice to stop the Lexapro. I was able to articulate why I am quitting and how it's hard, but why to me, it's worth it. When I quit drinking and smoking pot, I learned SO much about myself. Drinking and smoking are all about escapism for me. I learned to run away from unpleasantness day 1! In order to grow, I needed to stay and let the shit wash over me. Face my fears. This is the same fucking thing.

How can I be an artist (and I don't mean famous, published, or even good) if I run away from life? Feeling sad, and scared, and jubilant, and bored, and excited, and mad is being alive.  I don't hallucinate, hear voices, suffer from acute anxiety that has me unable to leave the bed.  I don't have multiple personalities, or mania, or suicidal tendencies. I am extremely sensitive, so life can be a fucking job. But I am not tired all of the time anymore, and I have the skills to pay the bills, and I am here.

And I want to DO things. I don't want to just be here, feeling pretty good all of the time. I don't want my marriage to implode because I am paranoid or resentful or unable to control my anxiety, but it doesn't have to. I can listen to my body and give it what it needs: yoga, sleep, food, rest, activity, etc. Listen to my body and trust it. Listen to my spirit guides and trust them, too. Trying to figure out what is going on with me takes time and effort. It's only when we are taught not to trust ourselves, or we just can't be bothered that problems arise.

I am feeling powerful and amazing today. I love myself, children, husband, family, and friends. I love every student I have ever taught, and the opportunity to do good. I love the city I live in, my state, and all of the beauty and blessings therein. Grateful for all of it. The pain is my teacher, so I love you too, pain.

June 19th

Dad is in the hospital with an obstructed bowel. I am finding it hard to maintain the same level of mood stability and optimism that I had in the last 2 weeks. Jeff is certainly noticing my "roller coaster of emotions" but I am not all that concerned about changing myself to make him more comfortable. This feels like I've said, like early sobriety. Which sucks, but I know I can handle it. Lexapro made me feel like everything was awesome all the time. Not euphoric, but like I didn't have a care in the world. But I do have cares. A lot of them. There are shit loads of things that need my attention. I need some of my natural anxiety to keep me motivated and productive. I just need to learn how to control my tendencies to snap at people and be a bitch.

But to that end, my dad (who is sick in many ways) is in the hospital and I don't know what's going on because he doesn't tell me the whole story. Worries fly through my head like, will I have to go and take care of him? If he goes through surgery, I would like to be there, because what if he doesn't make it? And is it an excessive worry when you lose 3 people in 30 days like I have this spring? So I need to give myself structure: Get up by 7 am, coffee, write, work, Yoga, eat conscientiously, read and write with my babies, organize something. Give thanks for the break in routine that summer provides. For the opportunity to tend to other parts of my metaphorical garden. Give thanks for a husband who appears committed to family and working hard. Try to not to suspect that he is forever carrying on an affair. Try not to hold on to anger and resentment.

That's the major thing coming up right now: anger and resentment. I thought I was over it, but apparently, without Lexapro's help, I am right where I left off when I started the damn pills.  That can't be, tho. It can't be possible that I didn't really make that progress. I just feel like my brain needs some rewiring. Now I've got to figure out if it will be harder, or if I can do it in the same ways I quit alcohol.

Fathers Day, June 18, 2017

It's Fathers Day, so naturally, I am going to fail as a spouse and fight with Jeff.  It really does feel inevitable. Lately, I have been feeling ambivalent. Not all of the time, but there are certainly waves of whatever that flow through my brain. Then there are the moments of watching/hearing him play with Eddie and I know that I am doing the right thing. It's hard to be patient when it feels like for the last 10 years I have been focused and determined to figure out my career, and your spouse has been decidedly less engaged in a similar process.I don't care about being rich, and some of my friends seem like they're rich. Or maybe they just pretend to be and really they are in mega-debt. I don't really know. But lately, I am feeling badly about my house, my bank account, etc. But with my job, I can't really do shit about it. I guess I could look into being a grader for TEA, or research extra work for teachers, and maybe I will. I am encouraged that Jeff feels like he is improving at his job.  I need to stay positive. I can feel myself being irritable with him and pulling away.  I know that when I started taking Lexapro, I was much nicer and less irritable.  I really don't want to take medication just to be a nicer person.  I would like to think I could be "nice" naturally.  What the fuck?  Maybe I just need to find a forum for people like me.

Ok, I just read some threads about people quitting their SSRI medication and I am determined NOT to be like that.  First of all, I am not suffering from horrible, debilitating symptoms as described on these websites, Secondly, I refuse to live like that. I don't even want to think that way. I have taken plenty of drugs in my life, and every time I was different. It's an experience. But I refuse to feel like a victim, or like my depression/anxiety/irritability problems are inevitable or a curse.  I can and will practice positive behaviors to help me manage my issues: depression, anxiety which results in irritability and poor stress response.  I can do this.

Now to think about Jeff and how much I appreciate him.

After a week of pretty high highs at CTWP, and evenings of physical and mental exhaustion, I have found myself on Saturday morning.  And it feels good.

I haven't taken Lexapro...(had to count it up with my calendar on which I have been recording, though sporadically, my Lexapro consumption, food, exercise, and activities)...in TWO weeks.  And here are just some of the differences I have felt:

• less hungry or at least less obsessed with food, meals, and eating in general. More about this below.
• more compelled to write! Like I have words that want to, need to burst forth onto the page. If I don't get to writing I feel physically uncomfortable. New day, new journal. I have a lot to say! Also, more about this below.
• I feel pretty good in the morning: I was able to sleep late today, which was glorious. I am in a good, level mood. I enjoy my coffee and I feel motivated to do the things.
• Evenings are harder. They feel a bit like early sobriety. I feel down, just less able to control my swirling thoughts that are 90% negative, but there is the voice of reason that reminds me to be nonjudgmental  about these thoughts, to get outside myself and just observe, to not let myself get sucked into the bullshit that my mind is trying to suck me into. Thoughts are worries about the future and then I feel bad, sad, and guilty for not being something other than I am. Pretty much all anxiety relates to money.  More about this below.

The benefits of being off the Lexapro: a desire and a need to write and cultivate an inner life and oddly maybe, the variance in moods, have me feeling really confident about my decision to stop the Lexapro.  In my first year of sobriety, I needed all the help I could get: all the mood stabilizers and all the ice cream I could get my hands on.  Now I am feeling stronger.  I am curious about myself and feeling so incredibly loving toward myself.  The self-hatred is gone. It lingers as a very vivid memory, but it is so obviously bullshit that I can't really understand how I fell into this trap other than the fact that I was an adolescent girl in a culture that teaches us to hate ourselves. 

I feel strongly that my moods and my anxiety are interesting, not devastating. Again, because I don't take these moods personally. I know now that they are not reality.  It's the most incredible shift I have made in such a long time. And I can see pretty clearly people who are not awake in this way, and I get really tired thinking about them or even trying to talk to them.  Yesterday, Wendi and Jeff had a party for Archer's 8th bday and all of the families were there.  It was totally overwhelming, but I didn't react in a David Stroud way.  I was able to socialize and talk just fine, but by 3 hours I had a headache and heartburn and I knew I needed to bounce. It was overwhelming because of small talk. I was interested in talking about what I am interested in: myself :), books, and my desire to write; I was exhausted talking about everything else.

It wasn't that the topics were horrible, I am motivated to clean out my garage thanks to Sarah's description of organizing her house and cleaning out her trash. It was the superficial nature of each conversation because of the nature of a party: you bounce around from person to person and every conversation is superficial. People are drinking, so they feel like they're talking about real things, but because I am sober, I am not getting the same satisfaction from each interaction. I think it's helpful to analyze my feelings so that I don't fall into the trap of thinking that certain people aren't my friends. Or I fall into feelings of separateness. The ability to discern feelings of dissatisfaction from actual hatred of certain people is pretty huge. I have noticed my feelings of anger or wanting to hate certain people, it's a habit of my brain. Now I notice it, and I think about it for a minute, and I don't beat myself up, but I acknowledge that the thought is not synonymous with me, it's just a thought.

My goals for today: Goodwill run, scrub floors, bathrooms, and trash cans. Clean out the fridge. Find names of doctors: gyno for me, well-checks for kids, dentist for all.

Freak Out, June 14

I found something I wrote in 2013, clearly drunk or at least tipsy. It was toward the end of my first year at IDEA, and I am listing ideas to prepare for the following year. I wrote a small description of domestic life and it is the most depressing thing I have ever read. The mean, nasty verbiage paints a picture of palpable self-loathing. I am describing a night at home with Eddie and Jeff in the most wretched terms. Mostly I am describing how I behaved when I was faded: mean, totally unloving, and full of self-hate.

Gross.

Then there is the email snooping. I guess when it comes down to it, I still don't trust him. Or maybe I don't trust this level of happiness I have been experiencing with him lately. It's too good and can't last. I'm worried about money, I am worried about several emails that he hasn't erased, I am worried that he's getting complacent about a job that pays 1/3 what we need to survive, never mind thrive. I am worried about my health: I am so tired when I get home from work, my period is weird, what if I have cancer and don't even know it. What if I got sober only to die in like 2 years. What about the STAAR scores? They sucked. Maybe that means I suck.  And I miss Lindsey.

I am really good at being funny and full of life when I am out in the world, but when I come home, I feel like a shitty mom, a lazy turd, and a fat bitch.  But maybe some of this is getting used to life without medication. Maybe I will be a little sadder, a little more on edge, a lot more critical. But maybe I can do something about it!  That's the spirit.

I am going to keep that example of my writing to remind myself of how ugly I could be when I drank. I was able to create not-so-bad sentences, but everything in those words speaks to a dying spirit and a wretchedness that breaks my heart in so many pieces.

But now I am going to do some yoga, and when (not if) my children interrupt me, I am just going to pause the thing and go hug them. Because they are my miracles and I want to always take advantage of being able to look in their eyes and tell them i love them.  And I really miss Lindsey, but I want to feel it all these days, no matter what.

Gratitudes, June 6th

So much goodness in my life. There always was, I just hadn't trained my brain how to find it. Starting out the morning with 1-2 cups of coffee (black today and not bad), a breakfast that sticks to the gut, and yoga. Oh this yoga is amazing. I feel so powerful and strong and GOOD about myself. The instructors aren't talking about my body as a piece of meat to look at, but as a blessing of strength and movement and breath. It's brilliant to focus on the breathing and feel the power of my muscles and my spirit. Then I am ready to focus on kids and playing. Five hours later, the McCombs boys leave and I rest, take care of whatever business needs tending to, and I start dinner. Jeff calls as he walks to the bus and tells me about his day. I feel incredibly drowsy and half-listen to the details because I care so much more about the tone: peaceful, happy with accomplishments, okay with ambiguity, he gets it.

Jeff comes home and we eat together. He puts a ballgame on tv and Eddie, Jeff and I make each other laugh. Maggie finds us eventually and she and Jeff sing a Sesame Street song he's taught her from his youth. It's unbelievably cute and idyllic and it's my life. What?

Later, as I fold laundry, a thought creeps into my head that if only I'd had this happy life all along, then maybe I wouldn't have developed such a nasty drinking problem.  And just like that I notice that thought and I kind of want to murder it. Thoughts like that try to convince you that it's okay to drink, when the truth is drinking only wanted more drinking. I told Jeff to go to the restaurant. I liked that he wasn't around and I was able to do whatever the fuck I wanted. I wanted that for awhile. But this fucked up little part of my brain wanted to see if it could pull its little bullshit tricks on me.  Nope.

Because that's another gratitude for the list: I can see my disease. And I respect that it's there and probably always will be, but it doesn't get a seat on the bus. It's fucking transient, it has no home. It's there but it gets no air time, only enough for me to rail at. But thank you fucked up thoughts. Thank you for reminding me that I am no better, no more evolved, no less an addict than any of the ladies on my FB feed that I was thinking of abandoning because I just feel so good and whole today; because I am still a person with a sick brain, I just choose life and light and love over dependency, darkness and shame.

So grateful. So great. So full. Good night.

Monday, June 5th

The first day of official vacation. I have felt ambivalent all weekend.  Not ecstatic. Not extremely anything. I feel a need to proceed cautiously, soberly (obviously), calmly, and intentionally into my summer. I feel a lot of self-imposed pressure to accomplish every goal and fix every flaw, but I won't set unrealistic expectations for myself.

I am using my agenda to record my Lexapro consumption, meals, snacks, daily exercise and meditation and a "mood" rating for the day over-all.  I saw a short video of the Dali Lama talking about the characteristics of all of the world's major religions. He said all religions are based on love , compassion, etc. but the word that stood out to me was self-discipline. I have achieved the self discipline of sobriety, and it wasn't easy to change this habit, but it has been incredibly trans-formative. Next I want to take the self-discipline to daily yoga practice, daily journaling on this space, meditation, sitting and being still.

Last night Angela and Cynthia came by with Cynthia's son Harry. Eddie and Harry immediately hit it off in a way I have not seen ever.  They bonded on performance and acting of all things. To see Eddie immediately engage this kid in creating a skit and wanting me to record it was so inspiring. After they left, Eddie said he hopes Angela and Cynthia get married so Harry can be his cousin for real. It was so beautiful and it really made me feel the need to get over my resentment of Angela. I don't know why I feel this way about her. This frustration with her stems from really hating conflict of any kind. I resent that she has this drama in her life. She is supposed to be steady and together! Quit having problems, Ang. Quit choosing stupid.  That's really unfair. I need to proceed with way more compassion. Acceptance. I can't let my fear that she is going to mess up her life get in the way of having an authentic relationship. This visit will help.

Jeff is so stressed out about money and co-dependent me wants to solve all of his problems too. I can't stand to see him worried or stressed. I immediately want to fill him with good feeling and take away any feelings of inadequacy or pain or self-doubt. Part of this is my co-dependent nature. I need to let that shit go. Part of it is important: for so long we didn't communicate at all. Reading about his personality type yesterday was amazing. He is a care-taker. He feels responsible for taking care of his family, and the fact that he is not making money is making him feel like a "loser." This isn't in itself a bad thing. But I need to let him express whatever he's feeling. I can't treat people like they exist for my amusement, security, etc. Quit the co-dependent shit. Listen to him express his feelings, validate and reassure, like you do so well, but don't try to silence his feelings or take responsibility for his feelings. Just let them be. Like the wave. Let them flow. It will be okay.

Okay. This is enough confessional journaling. Now I want to write something fun.

Will this be humanity's future? Why or why not?

The image is of a human face. Half has illustration/drawing of a robot face.  So the question is will human beings turn into robots? Literally, no. But figuratively, I think many of us are. As long as we are being controlled by advertising, news, relationships, addictions, etc, people are like robots.  Robots and technology are cool but they lack a soul. The soul is what makes us human. I can see in media, especially commercials in between my Hulu show, how desperately advertisers are trying to control people. It's disgusting. I miss the unit on advertising that I used to teach. I wonder if I could weave that into my curriculum for school.  But what is my fear? That we are being controlled. Told what to like, what we need to fit in, be happy, survive and none of it is feeding our souls. None of it is filling us up. None of it is real. None of it connects us to Spirit/God; it's all deceptive and destructive and deceitful. It's all of it lies.  That's why I want to create this self-discipline for myself. I think I can be satisfied with doing nothing if I also have a level of self-discipline about my life, so that I feel that I am steering the ship toward the light of Spirit and truth. There are so many distractions on this earth that can lead to misery, pain, isolation, my objective is to steer the boat in a way that calls to other people. Namely my children. I want them to know they can always find me and I will do everything I can to help them and lead them to goodness and truth and safety and love. It all really comes back to what I believe my purpose to be: freedom and love and light.

Now to accomplish some tasks so I can manage my anxiety!

The Shame Wave Pt. 1

The memories that E has of my drinking. "Remember the time we went to those people's house? We ate ribs and all the kids went into the bedroom to watch a movie because we couldn't leave because you were too drunk to drive?"  Like a slap in the face.  And my first impulse is to be MAD at him. Like who do you think you are to shove that in my face?  How disrespectful.  Then comes the shame wave. You are angry because you are defensive. And you are shocked because you think that because you are sober, he shouldn't remember any of your bad behavior.  How RUDE.

The worst part of the shame wave is when it hits. The shock of initial impact. Then you realize what is happening and you let it wash.  Stay still and let it wash.  Don't run away and make it into something else. Just sit and let it come. Later on I think about the positives:

1.  His memory is of me drunk, true, but he also remembers what I did when I couldn't drive: I didn't. I asked for help and I told the truth. I got a ride home that day. I didn't black out, I didn't leave my kids, I didn't hit anyone, yell, scream or start making out with strangers. I admitted my mistake and I did my best to keep people safe. 
2. I don't drink anymore because I can't have just one. Whenever I drank, I wanted all of the alcohol at the party. It was physically painful to stop once I started. This is not a moral failing on my part, it's what happens when my body/brain has that drug. So I don't drink anymore. Because I couldn't stand being in that situation anymore.
3. I have the perfect platform to talk about drinking and drugs with my kid. My own experiences. I didn't choose to be an alcoholic and I probably could not do anything to prevent it, but I also made some choices that made it inevitable that I would have a problem:
1. I started drinking at 14.
2. I hid it, stole it and told lies about it from the beginning.
3. I believed that without alcohol I could not have fun.
4. I based all my friendships on whether or not people drank/how much of my drunken behavior they would tolerate. So I hung out with people I didn't really like if they could get me drugs/alcohol or at least wouldn't judge my bad behavior.
5. I blamed everyone for all of my problems. I didn't take responsibility for myself.
6. I chose to drink. Again and again and again. Even when I hurt other people, let people down, failed at school and work, and most especially, even though it was killing my spirit and hurting my brain and body. I didn't know how to stop. 
7. I needed help to stop.  I needed to read about other people quitting before I had the tools and the guts to quit myself. It was really fucking hard and I have to think about it every single day for the rest of my life.
8. I love myself anyway. I am so grateful for everything I have. I am determined to live my life to the fullest, maybe because I spent so much time numbing and feeling like such a loser. It is possible to recover, but it will be a huge part of your life and many people don't make it. You are gambling with your life. You are a miracle and all of this is amazing, so it is insane to put drugs in your body. No high is as good as the feeling you get from feeling true love, exercise and good night's sleep.

So the shame wave sucks, but it has taught me a lot.  The main thing is that it will hit, wash, and recede.  It will not destroy me.  It's not that powerful, but it can teach me if I am willing to listen.  Be still and listen.

It's summer vacation and I don't know what to do with myself.  I want to accomplish shit, and then there is a voice inside that is telling me that "accomplishment" ain't the point.  That maybe I just need to practice being in the moment this summer.  Meditation, yoga, sitting and listening, being and appreciating, holding hands with people that I love.  These are the things that life is for.  Life is weird and wonderful and I am so FULL. Like fit-to-bursting full.  Love.

Last night's dream: I was cooking dinner for my family.  The chicken was browning and crisping up remarkably well and quickly.  I turn my back for one second and when I return to my task, Edwin has taken chicken out of the pot, placed a piece here and there, eaten a piece.  I flip out.  I use the F-word. I grab a cigarette and storm out.  I don't apologize.

Instead of smoking, I find myself at a gym full of skilled, young, work-out aficionados. I stay for hours.  When I realize I really must leave, I wake up.

The exercise and stretching in my dream was fabulous.  It felt so good just to do it.  There was no concern about my size, how long it would take to lose the weight, or any of that crap that keeps me from doing anything.  It just felt good for the sake of doing it. That's something I want to experience today.  Moving my body for the sake of moving.  Feeling my muscles and my jiggling flesh and enjoying all of it.  Stare up into the impossibly blue sky, chase my daughter around a field, listen to the laughter of the beautiful children in my life.  This is the best way to spend a Tuesday on vacation.

                                                               ************
I still can't believe that Lindsey is dead.  I knew she would die young.  I just hoped it would be asthma, getting sick, lingering for awhile so it would be easier on me, us.  Suicide is well, harder to accept.  Tho I think I have accepted it.  She was very ill, apparently.  I didn't really know her heart. Sometimes for fleeting seconds I realize that as I got healthy, we drifted further apart.  The thought occurs to me that I could feel guilty for leaving her behind, but of course that is unbelievably stupid. My health benefits my innocents, my kids, and nothing is more important than that.  The fact is, Lindsey used language like can't when we talked about sobriety.  She knew she had addiction and dependency problems, but she refused to consider life without substances.  This may be impossible for some people to understand, but not me.  I get it.

In early sobriety, besides the fear of coming out sober, I worried that life would not be worth living if I couldn't say yes to everything. The thought that I would be sober while everyone else partook made me afraid. I thought I would lose my friends, I would lose myself. That was a totally valid fear, it turns out.  I did lose friends as drinking buddies.  I did lose friends as people I would seek out to party with and then subsequently had to sheepishly seek out and apologize to at a later date.  I lost girl's weekends that were booze-soaked and anxiety-ridden.  I lost the the feeling that I was a bit of a creep for pursuing friendships with people based on their lack of boundaries or willingness to not judge me rather than on genuine feelings of affection.

Lindsey must have feared this.  People went on and on about how funny and sweet and charming she was, but a lot of that was a mask, it wasn't real.  She got so much positive feedback for playing a role, that she didn't really know who she was.  She got all of those damn tattoos when she was fucked up, then she had to be what people saw.  Don't get me wrong, she wasn't a total phony, but from my perspective she was scared and lost and unsure of herself.

I hope I am not projecting, but this is how I felt about my own issues.  I would also play a role: funny, carefree, whatever I thought you wanted me to be.  Until I had too much to drink, then the beast was in charge, and you never knew what you were going to get.  Somehow, for way too long, I thought this was a better option than abstinence.  Wow.

So I can't help wondering what life could have been like if Lindsey had chosen sobriety.  If  she had asked for help to attend a rehab instead of hiding behind mental illness. Not to say that she wasn't ill, she obviously was, but she was never going to get better if she didn't attend to the 70 ton elephant in the room: drug addiction.  But she could be different things to different people and keep her secrets.  And we are only as sick as our secrets, remember?  And the bitch had a lot of secrets.  I didn't know all of them and nobody did.  I wanted to be accepting and non-judgmental, but she knew I couldn't accept certain behaviors, especially after I got sober.  So she became something else and ran off with someone and her final act was a *fuck you* to everyone who ever cared about her, because how dare you tell her you are fucking your life up!

I had been through this so many times before, but I don't have to go through this ever again.  I don't have to worry about finding out something terrible has happened because the last terrible thing has happened and can't re-happen.  It's done.  I can't re-discover that Ed or Lindsey is dead at their own selfish and deluded hand.  I can't realize that my love for someone would never be more powerful than their love of their own illness.  Because what is addiction than a love affair with death?  With sort of self-inflicted Munchhausen's syndrome?  You pretend that life is grand while you poison yourself over and over again, then you wonder why you can never quite get your shit together.  You spend 25% of your life sick and hungover and you sincerely and stupidly wonder aloud why you can't achieve your dreams.  Stupid.

It's stupid.  So yeah, I am going to let myself be a little angry.  Angry at all of the fear and shame that keeps people from just saying, "I'm sober.  I have a problem with alcohol and now my life is so much better."  I didn't know I would feel this good when I quit, but now that I feel this amazing it seems so utterly ridiculous to pretend, to lie, to cheat myself and those I love of the best A-version of me there is.

I love you, Linds and I always will, but I am going to do what you could not.  I'm going to live honestly, I am going to love myself in the truest ways, I am going to take care of my body and by extension my mind.  I am going to love Jesus, and not in the hypocritical and nauseating way of the mega-church, but in the genuine and soul-affirming way of our grandmothers.  I will carry you with me always, but it will be to do what you couldn't do: live.