Counting not counting

I am not counting days at this time in my life. Because I’m just not drinking and I’m doing my best to work on all the other addictions. Addictions like: getting angry, reaching for food, self-bullying, loss of patience, martyrdom….I consider them addictions or habits or reflexive acts….

That said, I am not sitting around tasering myself each time I want a donut, like in that Ben Stiller movie, nor during other ways of self punishment, nor every time I say “f$## off f#$%^&# when someone drives like it’s their first time on a road. But I am getting better at gently catching myself and saying oh look…look over here for the moment…or being more intentional about what I see or read or hear..or realizing hey, if I yell at someone, then I am the one getting upset and suffering the consequences, not them.

Recently I heard somewhere that it’s called “losing face” because your face changes and warps into another thing altogether when you get mad. You literally lose your face. This is very true of course and it just sounds pretty awful when put in that way.

So I’m not counting days because I made the decision within a decision, I made “the vow” as Lee Davy calls it. I see without a filter or shadow of doubt how alcohol truly has no redeeming qualities and only makes the bad things worse and the good bad.

But the time (now 3 months) does matter though. Because it’s time I could have spent doing something else, like still drinking and not taking walks every day even though I lifted weights and did circuits in the morning, like not writing on my blog, like not getting my energy bar website started, like still eating too much, like squeezing my hands into fists all the time 5 seconds away from a meltdown, like drinking coffee and having panic attacks, like not knitting, like not reading, like checking my work every morning at 5 am and then for the next 12 hours, compulsively, like judging everyone and everything harshly and seeing no magic in anything….

The days pass, whether we are part of them or not. Whether we are part of them in the way we truly wish to be. All those numbers do add up, to something.

“Just keep doing the next right thing”

~Lara McKowen

 

 

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Late night, early morning

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Last night I had strange dreams. Night before I dreamt that my father was going to do shots (something I’ve never seen him do) but then decided against it in a huff. I woke up finding that so strange and also with the knowledge that it was nonsense and that I did not do that anymore.

I sat up in the dark and wrote on my phone: ” I don’t have to worry or avoid or be paranoid (which is a form of worry) anymore, because I can handle life and myself. I can control myself well enough to not cause myself further occasions to worry.”

What spurned that exact thought I don’t recall.

Today is very brisk and crisp; the sunrise was yellow and lavender, through the trees. I bounced down the front steps to let the chickens out and it was still fairly dark out. I breathed deeply and went “ha ha!” in a Yes! kind of way. Breathe through the nose and noisily out the mouth ahhhh….

Today is not a gym day, but it feels like a day with many possibilities. A feeling I  will try not to lose as the day goes on.

This morning I read from Lee Davy, about his experience with a bird that he had found dying and tried to save, his experience with the spirit. He mentioned a book that had the quote something like: the drink was the only buffer between him and life (paraphrase).

He wanted to know our thoughts on that and I was just going to write a sentence or two but it surprised me with morphing into more: “Life is very harsh and drinking puts a muffling buffer between you and life, for a time, but it also makes you unable to deal with, touch, enjoy it, as well. And you know in your heart of hearts that the buffer is there and that it’s all a lie, which leads to desperation, frustration, repetition. Which leads to further emptiness. You are still stunned in your spirit, you cannot fool your spirit, but you can try to suffocate its screams.”

And there it is.

Newness ramble

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There definitely is something to be said about the beginnings of something. Especially in this world we are living in right now, as technology actually is making time seem shorter. Can you believe that? The other day I realized how it was September, when I seriously felt like I’d been in a coma and just woken up, months down the line. How on earth could it be September? The winter just ended. I was just getting ready for Summer! Aieee!

So I looked back on some pictures and saw well, after all, I had been alive for the last several months and up and about, I didn’t have amnesia, but it was very much this blurry foggy feeling. This feeling is prevalent in my life unfortunately, but it has really been getting less pronounced since stopping drinking. Meaning, I sort of “come to” at different times and realize, hey, I’m not slurring my words, I’m not reaching for something or someone, I’m just here and also at times, that I’m looking at someone and my gaze feels steady and intense, when I wasn’t even thinking about it.

A few months ago, one of the things that helped me pick myself up off the floor again and  start putting one step ahead of the other, was a short conversation I had with a sheriff deputy at the gym. He is probably in his mid-twenties, a solid type of person, steady blue eyed gaze. I was talking with him about feeling exhausted with the strength workouts and he was saying how he had been doing more circuit low weight workouts, to give his joints a rest and the importance of doing that. And I realized his eyes were very steady but mine felt like they were jumping in my head and I felt dirty and ashamed, was thinking about the alcohol I’d had the night before and thought how I simply didn’t deserve to be possibly perceived as a drinker or a whiner or an irresponsible gym-goer. Because I am a whiner, but I do the thing anyways. And I am definitely not an irresponsible power-builder. But mainly, because I’d done so much work to not drink and improve my life and evolve, since August 2015, I couldn’t bear the reality that I was drinking again, despite all the work I’d done before that.  And talking to a police-man type of person, made me feel like he was able to stare into my heart of hearts and call me out as the contradictory sack that I was. Since police men types have this ability to so often make people nervous enough to tell the truth or want to seem less pathetic or shame them or something….my dad was a State Trooper and it’s a legit thing for me.

So I realized how my eyes were jumping around and how that just wasn’t me damn it! Drank again that night and then the next night, which I talked about in the Go….Stop post and that conversation, amoungst other sources of shame and disappointment in myself got me on the path that I am on now.

So that was 2 months ago and I’m doing well with the alcohol sobriety side of things. I feel better in general, my sleep is still messed up and I am still fatigued, but drinking would only add to that crap. Books, music and movies have taken on a real noticable gleam. I was downloading samples into my Kindle app and realized how interesting many things had become, topics I wouldn’t have spent much time on before and would have just glazed over and not given a proper chance. Because the topic was harder maybe or I was just not there before.  Smells are so much more intense – I was standing in the spice aisle at a natural food place and repeatedly sniffing the lavender and the 5 spice bulk jars like wowwwwww you check that out?…….I look better. I’m so glad I’m not torturing my body like that, drinking is so yesterday. I fully agree that “drinking is basic AF”, like Jessica James proclaimed so rightly. And it’s so boring. I mean, guys? It’s SO BORING.

I am also fully aware of and agree with the fact that alcohol only makes things worse. It makes nothing better. It would make my anxiety, depression, shame, disappointment, weight, stuckedness, stagnation, fatigue – all way worse. Alcohol has absolutely no redeeming qualities, it is pointless. And I have on many occassions reflected on how I never actually enjoyed drinking. It was always repetitive, I felt real sick real quick, I don’t like feeling or being out of control or embarassing. Numbness is no fun and I can’t drive or walk or read or do anything the rest of the day/night and that sucks. Plus all those dangerous situations/ awful men I paid attention to? Shudder….And so on.

If I want to check out of my life for a little while, which we all do and I don’t see why it’s the biggest no-no really, then there are other things I can do that won’t make me feel this sinking of spirit and queasiness encircled by a thick band of never enoughedness.

I can meditate, chant, exercise, stare at the clouds, count numbers in my head, think of something funny or a vacation, read on my phone, read an actual book, knit a hat, watch Mad Men, eat ice cream, eat a protein filled salad, clean outside, clean inside, check out a sobriety memoir of blog or podcast, all 3 at once!..get back into Duolingo…Just feel/write it out…let the words come through and onto the page so I can realize what the heck I’m thinking about….

My larger point with all of this was (supposed to be) how the newness of a program/diet/exercise regime/ remodel/hairstyle/class/move/relationship – can all be so energizing. There is a definite positive flow to the beginnings…then perhaps a plateau occurs. It can be an energy plateau, interest plateau, whatever. Then sometimes the “thing” just fizzles out….without attention, the seedling withers and dies. It becomes a “have to do” thing in the background, then it becomes something unnoticeable, but I can feel it’s presence, a waiting. Sometimes I go back to it, sometimes I don’t. But the echoes of my time with it exist still.

But certainly, there are things that are kept at the forefront for longer, they reap more rewards, they offer more visible returns and going back to the way it was “before” is not an option or desire. So it takes work. It also takes refreshing. Somehow, it has to be refreshed, so that it stays on point. I guess that’s inherent to the work. Like if I was a mail man, I wouldn’t stop delivering the mail and then go back to it. Nor do I deliver the same envelopes day after day, they are new envelopes, new boxes, sometimes more sometimes less, sometimes red cards, sometimes yellow.

The maintenance portion of anything, can be hard. Because it’s neither here nor there…you’re not seeing your 6 pack for the first time even, nor are you wearing baggy sweats to your first gym workout in years. You’re just going through the motions. And often, I see where the emotional triggers can spring. As if my brain was trying to kick together some drama for me to focus on, something that needs fixing. Because if it needs fixing then that means conversation, possibly the chance to seem superior, possibly another beginning! Oooohh goody, I like beginnings! I’m mad and sad but I’m glad because I’m not bored and I can blame YOU and the WORLD and I have to MOVE OUT….and that’s how it can go….

I’m not trying to excuse other people from being asses, but I do need to see where my reflexive behavior, cycles and habits lay so that I can cut that shit out. I don’t need NEW I need to maintain what I already have. PROPERLY. OVER TIME.

Plus, though it always feels momentarily easier while trying to kick together some nice drama to beat a plateau and to just be like “poor me” “no one cares” I never get a rest from anything” “everyone sucks” “nothing is good HERE you don’t APPRECIATE ME”, in the long term it definitely feels better to not pull on that emotional trigger.

As in, every time I get really mad or sad or volatile, it takes me a lot more time to get out of it than it did for me to fall into it in the first place. Just like drinking again would, which I am not willing to do to myself.

So I am confident with myself in some ways, I am happy to be living my life this way, I look forward to remaining sober and working on my emotional sobriety. I am looking forward to fall and am going to really “do fall”. I am feeling better about my weight and food choices and am able to look at myself in the mirror. I have done just that a few times recently and been like ” Oh! Well I look better. My eyes look clearer…huh….my skin looks good….” It’s a start.

 

 

Bane Belly

I have noticed over the years that if I eat too much (or any it seems) of foods that I really like like ice cream, toast with jam, pancakes…that I might not have “the belly” the following day or even the following days, but rather it comes on suddenly about a week afterwards. Last week and the week before, after the gym I had and very much enjoyed, some chocolate almond chip ice cream. Each day I had some and thought well, if I’m going to have it, which I do intend to do, then I’d best have it when my glucose levels are low after my weight lifting and cardio and circuits, rather than just sit around all day trying not to have it and possibly end up having it later. Honestly, those complex thoughts only lasted the first couple days, then it just was like yeah it’s time for my ice cream now, stand aside.

And those 2 weeks? I felt pretty good. Had mood swings (like usual) and fatigue in the afternoon (also like usual) but no worse than typical stomach expansion so thought hey, I’m ok.

Then on Monday came the revenge. My stomach had swelled to at least double it’s previous size. I would say “normal size” but my stomach area is never what I would consider normal. It has been one of the bane’s of my existence since I was 11. I remember very little of my experiences as a child, but I do clearly remember calling the band of flesh that stuck out underneath my belly button “my poof”. Because it was like an accessory. A bustle, only in the front of my body. And would never. ever. go. away. again. The first time it was noticed by one of my “friends” was by this rotten bitch I rode the bus with named Amy Woipio. I say here name because she deserves an ass beating no matter where she is in life now. She did other bad things to be too, but anyways, back to case in point. At a pool party I put on my bathing suit and she had been screwing up her shit eating little face at me already and then came over and said in front of the rest of the party, in this totally disgusted way “Lia, what happened to your STOMACH.” And everyone looked and then looked away and some people laughed. I looked down and said I don’t know it’s always like that. And Amy stood there retaining her disguted look and went “jeeze it’s really STICKING OUT”. And then later we were playing the pile game where everyone piles on top of each other (because small towns suck for children, unless it’s the South of France or something) and this really popular girl named Kim Trotta was on the pile and I went over to get on the pile and she jumped up and ran away a little saying “oh no way I don’t want YOU on top of me” and Amy ran over like in hysterics and they grabbed each other laughing and making faces and little screams like “oh the horrors”. I just stood there. I don’t remember the rest of the party. Or of my childhood really. I’ve blocked out so much of it, always just trying to get through it, thinking maybe someday it would be better. I would be living my life and I would feel like I should, like I was really alive in my own life. I am still waiting for that feeling…

The stomach has been there always, sometimes reducing in size, sometimes connecting with fat that extended around the back of me and up and down, but always there. It’s been there through all diets, through no diets, through drinking, through not drinking, through Whole30 elimination diets and through food re-introductions, through workouts and sitting on the couch, through medications and not medications. The whole spectrum of depression, not depression, active not active. Whatever I’ve done, it is always there and I absolutely hate it.

Thankfully I’m not currently terribly overweight anywhere else, but my stomach is still sticking out like I’m 6 months pregnant. No I’ve never had kids and no I’m not pregnant – something I was asked by a bank teller out of the blue once, simply due to a maybe ill fitting empire waist dress and my damn protruding gut.

So maybe it’s a case of like, I have to follow this rigid and boring and annoying food plan for the rest of my life. Maybe never ever again having a fricking piece of pizza or 10. But I’m not willing to live my life like that. I’m not going to be on my deathbed inside a tree next to a babbling brook, saying to the many devoted woodland creatures that are perched around my hand carved bed frame (hey you die your way I die mine), yeah guys, so glad I could have visible abs all this time, it made life so much worth living. But of course on the other hand, like the drinking SAGA, I don’t want to be fussing and mentally editing out parts of myself that I just loathe, on the daily. Like, every time I look into a mirror, my eyes go right to my gut. And I sigh and check off a box in my mind that says “you SUCK, see? Right there. And you FAIL. Like always.” So I’d like to get away from that too. But on the 3rd hand, I’m not going to “embrace all the parts of yourself good bad and jiggly, right girls? Tee hee, all those stretch marks mean you had a good time” or some shit.

I, like usual, don’t have an answer, but I do know I’m pissed off about something and there’s no way around it. And that I’m tired of sucking it in but exhausted when I let it out too.

I’ll just do the next right thing I guess. And this too shall pass. The feeling anyways, not the gut. I’m sure.

Imaginary Arguments

After much fussing, ruminating, giving in, giving up and out, what if’s, why bothers, serious back and forth, I feel very much ensconced into a non-drinking life. I realize how much drinking alcohol truly has not damn value. And not only that, perhaps more important – it makes me feel. worse. Since it seems like so much of life’s offerings is bad for you or the environment or the algae in NZ etc etc, the fact that drinking is bad on the body (no matter what these confirmation bias for the megalomaniac alcohol companies asshat articles say now and again) might not be the deciding factor to quitting (especially for a person without a very high esteem of oneself). The possible impending doom was always there, no doubt, but it was always more of a well yes, but I hate myself anyways so…Of course drinking leads to more self hatred, more feelings of weakness, less feelings of control or trust…A lot of what we do and laugh at, self deprecation, is danger disguised, morphed, to protect us in our denials. We know it’s bad for us but haha I’m gonna fricking do it anyways.

And let me say, I’m not poo-pooing all “bad things”. I want the half gallon of ice cream even though I work my ass off at the gym 6 days a week? I’m having it. Not because I deserve it, I don’t deserve anything really…but because I enjoy it and that falls into the category of “living a little” to me. So do the occasional naps, sunbathing without sunscreen, walks in the hot sun, going in the ocean water even though it’s cold, with my clothes on….

It’s best to choose how we are going to “live a little”, since so much of our lives are not our choice. Only the illusion of choice. When I was not feeling that I was choosing whether or not I would have 3 vodka nips on my walk home from work to my rented room in a town I detested, that was when I was no longer “living a little”, I was trying to survive and it was horrid. Rather than making a big change.

The feeling of every morning, needing coffee, then more coffee, then this flavor or that, then this creamer or that, just in order to go the bathroom and function the next few hours – that is not a choice. That is ridiculous. Coffee was making me feel awful, ill, racey, panicky, anxious, I was always tired anyways. So I cut it out, twice now. Not had caffeine since Jan or Feb I forget, anyways. But before that I would think, if I thought about it, since that’s just what everyone did, I’d think jeeze I imagine I would be even more tired, screw that idea. But no. I was tired then and I’m tired now. But now I’m not beholden to the crappy piss water that comes out of the coffee maker and stinks awful and I’m not panicking AS MUCH.

Same thing with the drinking. Shit I’d think. What’s the point of not? I’m still heavier than I want, still gonna die, still not in the mood for sex much of the time, still not interested in some people, whatever. The point of not drinking, for me. Is. I do not feel AS BAD. I feel proud of not drinking. When I drank I felt like I’d just followed all the other jerks into the tunnel of boredom and headaches and puking, because they could think of nothing else. And I DID. And I did over and over, though I would literally be thinking I don’t want to I am so damn bored this is so boring I hate television I hate Sundays I hate living my life barnacled to someone else’s needs I can never “get there” to the feeling I’ll just keep drinking it’s not working I am wasting my life I am losing control I am ill I am so sad time has left it is all over all over….

Back to here and now. A month or so ago, longer I think, I had been drinking again, not enjoying it, it just was not hitting any good buttons, plus there was so much guilt and resentment around it for me. And it’d not been hitting good buttons for a loooooong tiiiiimmmme. Then it came to Sunday, we’d been out, came back about 2, I started having some wine, tasted awful, but thought, I’ll just keep smacking myself with this shit, maybe it will improve my mood. Naw. Didn’t. I drank like 1.5 bottles, still felt the little gnome pulling me down inside and more and more irritable.  Woke up the next day and was like so…I’m just…done with this whole thing.

I looked for some people online who might help me again, found the Needy Helper ( now the Truth About Alcohol  ) Listened to several of his podcasts. And there…yes he was so right. For example: if alcohol was actually something that made you sexier or have fun or relaxed, then wouldn’t people in bars be all of those things? Wouldn’t sitting in a room with only 5 bottles of wine make you the most funnest person ever? And that, among other things of the days, was so illuminating.

And just the acceptance of the knowledge that alcohol does nothing good for me. It makes me feel worse. I feel more depressed and less in control.

I watched Jessica James on Netflix, which was also huge for me. Because the main character is not a yoga-spiritual-I meditate full time and do not ever eat donuts – kind of person. She is a modern woman. Empowered in herself. Creative. Vivacious. Living in New York City. Without a drunk father in her history. And in the first like,  minute of the film, says without any irony or wavering or apology or interest in how it’s received: “Alcohol is basic AF”. And she says A.F. which for me made it even more right on. Because it’s not a reason or explanation that way, it’s more of a statement.

I watched that part over and over and got chills.

“Alcohol is Basic AF”…that’s all there is to say. No more arguments.

Go…Stop

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but I am realizing this fully again, at any rate, how alcohol really exacerbates my anxiety. I’m noticing that very much lately, it’s almost as noticeable as how coffee does that to me.  Coffee has been out of my life for ohh…7 months now. And I don’t miss it at this point. It was hard at the beginning and I wondered what was the point sometimes, but I knew that it was increasing my anxiety and not doing anything good for me, so I cut it out. I missed it a couple months ago off and on, but it was always a small fleeting thought only. That was the second time on coffee. I’d cut it out for 3 months 2 years ago and went back because I had also quit drinking around then and felt too limited. It just wasn’t fully the right time I guess. But now, I had a couple sips of my husband’s coffee recently and was like yeah noo…And had 1 day of coffee in the morning, thinking I would try it and see…yeah noooo…anxiety and sleeplessness. No thanks. So I’m seeing such a similarity between the whole story and feeling between coffee and alcohol. It’s really obvious now.

Also, alcohol is very noticeably taking down what little confidence I have. I’ve spent a lot of time and energy trying to build up my confidence and sense of groundedness and now lately, am finding that my behavior (as quiet as it really has been) has been chipping it away. Slicing it off…at this point.

I’ve spent the last couple months or so, drinking almost every day. And now, last night between 2 pm and like 8 pm, drank over a bottle of wine. Now the time period isn’t too bad and I didn’t get slurry or blackout. But I did get sleepy (as usual when I drink any amount at all), irritable a bit, a bit reactive, a bit sad, a bit desperate to feel a buzz (which did not come) and a bit queasy. I was laying on the couch after dinner and started getting gaggy and heartburny. The shame set in quickly about how I would feel the next day and the racing thoughts kicked up their feet and lasted until I finally got up, after a fitful, fidgety, uncomfortable, ashamed night of bad sleep.  Also the knowledge that yet again, my drinking level had risen yet again. From 1 beer and 1 wine to 2 beer and 2 wine to 2 Campari and 1 beer and 2 wine to 2 Campari and 2 wine to no Campari too expensive but 1 beer and 3 wine to 4 wine possibly 5 wine. What was next?

And…acknowledging….coming clean and really honest with myself…there were absolutely ZERO positive effects. There have been ZERO positive effects for years and years. Is it something to do? Yes. Is it a way to feel a gentle give in the back of your legs and an internal sigh of relief? Yes. But. That internal sigh of relief is preceded and followed by a knowing that I shouldn’t be doing that and that it’s just no good. Nothing good will come of it. Perhaps nothing bad (and I hate the crap shoot vulnerability of that) but truly nothing good.

Yesterday we went to the yarn store, a good drive away and Sunday tourist traffic…I ended up getting very overwhelmed and that can’t think can’t focus can’t breathe properly can’t make choices panicky feeling. Because I was confused and over stimulated and hung-the-frig-over on little sleep. Over yarn choices. That wouldn’t have happened has I not been drinking again. Then today my gym was upset and minimum and I felt ashamed.

I’ve for years now, wanted to just never drink again. Truly that is WHAT I WANT. I pray for and about it. It is my first thought in the morning and through the day is a common one. Is is rather compulsive maybe. Certainly reoccurring, constant, yearning. I yearn to never miss drinking, never think of it as a possibility for fun or accompaniment to my day or night. I pray and crave to have it totally out of my life forever and never ever miss it and just simply be a “non-drinker”, because “I don’t like it and it does nothing good for me”.

There are so many people out there who don’t drink and they seem to be coasting to some extent. I wish I could be more like that. Maybe I can be, I simply have to do it and that’s the only way I’ll be free.

My husband was telling me all kinds of wonderful and thoughtful things this weekend, one thing being how I had everything I needed within myself already. I just needed to reach in and take out whatever I needed. That I had a solid ground inside of myself that will never leave me.

I have to be disciplined, let go of drinking for my own good and that’s that.

What the pith?

The last week and a half I’ve not had any drinks, but I have had “mood issues”, let’s say. Certainly in my next life I want to be a man, to avoid these times of “mood issues”…ahem..(yeah – a tall, smart, good looking, athletic, healthy, funny, strong, Alpha-man – too much to ask?). But in the meantime, well, here I am. Every time, the mood is awful, I become ever more volatile, explosive, hateful, bitter, depressed… and every time it feels like it’s never going to get better. One of the difficult aspects of this life fact is that since I feel like this often enough outside of those 2 weeks each month, it’s hard to determine which is related to time and which is related to just being me. Just being a woman on this planet that humans have near destroyed, while we push around all the animals into a place that it suits us best and push each other around too while we’re at it.

Being a woman is hard. Hard. Hard. Just biologically speaking. I remember once a therapist suggested that the next time I got a chocolate craving that I simply acknowledged it and smiled at it serenely and said I see you craving and moved on with me life (chocolate free). It was good advice and really one of only two available options when it comes to advice on that subject (the other one being “just eat the f%^^&ing chocolate, possibly get fat, deal with it that and shut up”), but also, it’s advice that only a non-female could offer. And as a therapist I imagine there’s only so much damn whining you can take from these juvenile patients, like me. But I gave him a withering look and we moved on. An example about chocolate cravings being much more innocuous than others that would illustrate my point here, but I’m trying not to think too much right now. Or use math, parallel park or think abstractedly. Haha.

So my point is – as of today, after several outbursts over the past 4 days, after prior to that spending much time in trying NOT to have outbursts, about 8 or so total hours of crying, retching, gagging on tears and bile, headaches from crying and wringing of limbs, ripping things up, removing all the decorations off the walls and furniture, into a pile in my office and putting a towel over them, also turning all the pictures to face away from view, so that the house would look like how I felt inside – blank, colorless, devoid of anything good…I’ve been sitting quietly, staring at the chickens and trying not to think too much. Just sitting here feeling bad and sad and like I’m terrified about how things escalate in my mind and in my actions, how much trouble I have in communicating myself in what feels like a constructive way that is received by all the assholes out there in the world who don’t give a damn or even by my poor husband who does in fact give a damn, but is not able try to “fix” the sobbing thing hiding behind it’s bed on the 4th of July any better than he already has tried to do. So I’m thinking about all that recent/ current darkness and how I so often feel like I should MOVE NOW GO RUN SOMEWHERE ELSE and since I always feel that way I should then right? But mostly now, as of this morning, I’m just feeling bad and sad, like I’ve mentioned.

So I’m feeling that way and feeling very sorry and never want it to happen again and now have to recover and it takes DAYS DAMN IT and creates internal scars and what I made this all happen WHY WHY ugggggggghhhhh. Then I realize HEY. This whole thing? It’s exactly like DRINKING. The drinking it NOT the issue. The drinking is not the thing I need to sober up from. It’s THIS that I need to sober up from. I need to get dry from depression, sadness, self flagellation, explosive temper tantrums, self harm of a mental sort, physical harm to others – even the mere thought of. That is where the REAL root of the matter is.

I need to put together a few months of emotional sobriety. Or nothing else will go right or change for the better. People often (myself included) have gone the reverse, like maybe if I stop/start XYZ ABC then I’ll feel better/ be able to trust myself all the time to not go apeshit, so I’ll make the change(s) and then be like well what the hell, why don’t I FEEL BETTER YET. I’m still making the same mistakes, having the same thoughts. But I quit drinking, caffeine, smoking, pills, hanging out with morons, I started exercising and yoga and daily meditations and even have a carnelian pendant on and my bracelet and I read self help books and listen to corresponding podcasts and I do Whole30 6 out of 7 days a week and drink plenty of water and try to get 8 hours of sleep every stinking night and I I I……

But I still ripped up my husbands straw hat and magazine and cut up a towel and moved all the decorations and cried like it was my full time job and yelled at the person at the bank and stood stewing for weeks about some jerk off at the gym and got mental flashes of harming myself and ending it all just ending it and on and on…full of hate and self loathing.

So none of it matters if I’m not emotionally sober. Because it’s as though I were drunk on emotions. I had a bender…now I am hungover…it feels the same as drinking.

I am making an attempt to consciously stay emotionally sober. Unless it is a life threatening situation, I am NOT going to get mad or sad for the next 30 days. I am going to start today, cold turkey. I am going to make amends but not fester in it. No depressive episodes, no explosions, no crying or sobbing, no yelling, no making of rude faces of gestures, no nothing.

I may have a couple drinks tonight, to be with my husband in a calm manner, I know he would welcome a calm wife, even if it is due to the beers, and that he would like a couple himself after the last tortuous couple of days and then working in the hot sun for 8 hours. And he doesn’t like to drink alone. I’m not making excuses, I’m being intentional here. If a couple beers – yeah, even if it’s every night this week – is helpful to me right now, then I’m going to do it. Because if I can heal my emotions, then I can make some real progress.

We all have something in this world that we hang onto. I need to be able to count on myself better. I need to regroup.