Showing posts with label A sober woman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A sober woman. Show all posts

Friday, May 19, 2017

How The Heck Are You 5/19: Regrets Revisited



“The key question to keep asking is, Are you spending your time on the right things? Because time is all you have. ” 
― Randy PauschThe Last Lecture

I've been thinking a lot about my How The Heck Are You post from yesterday, and questioning if I was being honest about my regrets. The thing about regrets, is once you start tracing them back, wishing you'd done something different, it never stops. If I'd never started drinking at all, I wouldn't be the person I am now and I finally like the person I am now. Would I like the person I would be if I hadn't struggled with drinking? Would I be as proud of myself? Would I choose not to fight as hard for things I want because I didn't know I was strong enough?

See what I mean?

I stumbled across the quote above this morning when I was looking for the daily MM facebook post and I guess I would have to say that I wish I hadn't spent as much time fighting to keep drinking. Because, while I might have lived more life in the 30+ years I drank, I've grown more in the 6 years since I quit. 

But, then again, I realize I needed every one of those struggles and battles to come to the decision I made to quit.

See what I mean?

 So...ok, one regret-I wish I would have reached out for help earlier, I wish I hadn't struggled so long on my own because it was the support of others reminding me to keep going that kept me on the path I needed to be on.

Thank you guys, I love you.

How The Heck Are You?

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Funky



Skunk Ape:   a tall, hairy, upright-walking creature that smells like a black-striped funky-smelling creature and it appears to be coming out a little more often.  

I have been in a funk lately. There seem to be so many things I don't like about me and my life right now. Don't worry, I'm not going to list them.  Oh, how I miss the days when just waking up without a hangover seemed like a brand new resurrection every morning.

I think I need a day of indulgence. A day spent reading a book or binge watching Grey's Anatomy and eating potato chips and dip without guilt.  Anybody have any ideas on how to do that? I find myself telling myself all day long, "No, you can't do that, you need to do this." Being told "No" all the time is making me cranky and my inner six year old is throwing a tantrum and refusing to do what she's supposed to be doing anyway. So I'm stuck between not doing what I want and not doing what I need to do, which means I'm not doing anything.

This, too, shall pass.

I just need to move in one direction or another.

Wow! Such words of wisdom today. Hey, sobriety is not always profound. Sometimes it's funky.


I do have one ray of sunshine to pass on. A friend of mine over at Moderation Management has just started a blog, ModeratelySober.  If you're going for moderation instead of permanent abstinence from alcohol, check it out. The author has been successful moderating for a year now, so it can be done.

For some.

Not all.

How do you know if you're one of the Some?

I think the best way to tell is to try moderation under the guidelines and with the support of a group like MM.  This is not without risk. Just like those who choose permanent abstinence from alcohol, MM'ers are not immediately successful and tend to experience the same old waffling and shuffling and falling flat on their faces and rising up again that we all do in this sobriety game. That can be dangerous for those who are physically addicted to booze, like I was.

But, as stated above, the back and forth, and careening into trees happens when people head directly toward permanent abstinence without passing through Moderationville, too. I view my year attempting moderation as that same erratic time in early sobriety that is testified to by many bloggers who are pursuing abstinence.  A time of questioning of whether I really needed to stop.  I guess, for me, it seemed that if I had a guidebook in hand and a bunch of people telling me which way to go instead of just wondering around in the forest on my own, and I still couldn't find my way out of that f'ing forest, I needed to quit going in there before something large and hairy ate me.

The more insidious danger, of  attempting moderation for those that will not succeed, The Not All Gang, is getting trapped in that forest and thinking that because they've managed to survive and not get eaten by a big hairy sharp toothed creature, we should stay in the f'ing forest and keep trying.  Sometimes harm reduction keeps us from getting to the increase in good that is waiting for us outside of the forest in the sunlit meadow. We survive, but we don't thrive.

Oh yeah, the sunlit meadow. That's where I am.

Thank You, for reminding me.

P.S. Successful moderate drinkers can reach the sunlit meadow, too. The author of ModeratelySober is here.  But if you've been stuck in that f'ing forest so long that you're starting to grow moss in your fecund dewy parts, put down the drink and come enjoy the sun for awhile.

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Crazy Dog Lady



One of my favorite movies is "Hope Floats" starring Sandra Bullock and Gena Rowlands. It is about a daughter (Sandra) returning home to live with her somewhat zany mother (Gena).

There is a scene in that movie in which Gena Rowlands is up early in the morning, down in the creek feeding the ducks. Her dogs are barking and chasing the birds. The ducks are squawking and flapping their wings, rising up out of the water. The sun is turning the spray of water to geysers of sparkling diamonds. And Gena Rowlands is right smack dab in the midst of it all in her overalls and hip waders, tossing out more food, feeding the frenzy.

I so much wanted to be her, caught in that maelstrom, but at that time in my life, that early morning unbridled joy, those sun diamonds, were as unreachable as the moon and the stars.

All I could do is watch in wander that such moments existed.

This week I am at our little house in Dzilam de Bravo.  My friend, Linda, left yesterday to go back to Canada for a month and I am watching the brood of ragtag dogs that she has collected through the years. Twinky, Holbox, Bebe, Sparky and Toby have all found their way to her after being abandoned by their former owners.

This morning I am up with the sun. I gather my motley crew and herd them out the gate.  When we reach the stretch of road past the last house along the sea wall, I slip the leashes off.  There they go.

Unbridled Joy.

Toby bounds the seawall to chase the pelicans drying their wings on the rocks and the water sprays sun diamonds.

I made it.

I am the crazy dog woman I dreamed of being.

Hey, at least I'm not a crazy cat woman.

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Misery Loves Company



Slap. Slap. Squish.  Slap. Slap. Squish.  It's 4:00 am and the Gulf is blowing in through my upstairs bedroom window.  There's at least an inch of water covering the whole damn floor.  And in the other bedroom too.

And I am so damn grateful.

Slap. Slap. Squish.  Slap. Slap. Squish.

It's 8:00 am and I'm scrubbing the stubborn cooked on scrambled eggs from the bottom of the skillet.  My eyes are bleary and I can feel myself getting bitchy from a lack of sleep.

And it's still raining.

And I'm still so damn grateful.

Because I used to look at days like this and think how beautiful they must be, untainted by booze.
How wondrous it must be to move through the small hardships without the added weight of misery.

I never thought they'd be mine.

Thank you.