Little Victories

So, I'm sitting here eating an apple. 

WOOT WOOT!!!!!

I'm also loving this book by Brene Brown I'm reading that might actually create a self revolution since it makes so much sense. I want to grab B.B. by the shoulders, look her in the eye, and be all gushy and show off a little since her words are changing my life. 

But about that apple.

It's not eight oatmeal cookies. (I only had two) It's this big realization I had in the kitchen about fifteen minutes ago: 

I have no idea what to do with myself.

Before, when I drank like a fish in denial, I knew what to do. Hang out for a bit. Figure out an excuse to get the kiddos into the car and off to the store. ("Hey you guys, do you want to have a coke with dinner? Let's go get one.") Then home with my supplies, plant kiddos in front of TV and sneak out for a smoke with my first big ass glass of wine. What else to do? Nothing else. Get drunk. Ta da! The night is taken care of.

But now. 

Well.

I was talking to Belle and she asked me if I'd figured out my passion. Does flailing around on the computer between email and Facebook fourteen times a night count as a passion? Can eating too much be a passion? 

Dang. I didn't think so.

She did say "passion" not "time suck". 

One of the things I loved the most about drinking was that time just sort of.....disappeared. Voila! Five o'clock to bedtime and I didn't even notice! Then after the kiddos went to bed the wine and time floated right away. Then at the end I would just black out and then who knows what the fuck time it is.

Now, some days, I watch the seconds crawl. 4:37. 4:38. 4:42. What to do what to do what to do. 

Today is the first day of our after five tech blackout. Which means that I'll post this and then not be able to see if anyone read it until tomorrow morning. I might go crazy! 

Today is the first day we will hang out together before dinner. We'll eat on time. People will have baths, and stories on time. I won't be hurriedly slapping something on the table and skipping bath and rushing through stories. We can play Crazy 8's after bath time like we did this spring. The children can hit the sack clean and loved, not rushed and covered in sunscreen. 

Boundaries and rules. Changing what makes me annoyed with me, and then reminding myself that I can do it. Eating two cookies, thinking, and then grabbing an apple. Giving myself an atta girl for that little victory. 

Giving a Fuck

I talked myself into a bit of a tizzy this morning- you know how you sort of convince yourself that things just aren't going the way you want them to. Like this: "Ugh. I ate that graham cracker cereal last night. I feel fat. And also so many cashews. Why can't I stop drinking so much coffee? I think coffee makes me eat sweet stuff. I'm blaming everything on coffee from now on. And I have to stay up later so I don't wake up in the middle of the night wide ass awake. The coffee again. Fucking coffee."

And I won't replay the other conversation about the GIANT zit I have forming on my chin from all the sugar I ate this weekend. It is giant, but I'm resisting the urge to mash and squeeze it until nothing comes out and I've made a huge red spot on my face that scabs and peels for a week and a half.

But y'all, at least I give a fuck.

This is my new mantra. My way of making myself seem sane when I'm making myself my own special brand of crazy.

I care about my skin and my sleep. I pay attention to what I eat and what I drink. It matters if something isn't organic, or is pumped full of chemicals. I hydrate. And try to remember to floss and brush every night. At almost six months sober just being sober isn't an excuse for me anymore. It's not a free pass to eat eight cookies, it's inspiration to do better because I know that I can.

Being sober is so much more than just being not drunk. Perhaps we can change it to being human, or being a full human instead of a half assed one. Worrying about all this shit may seem pointless but for me it shows me that I care about myself. I'm concerned for my welfare and well being. How about that!

Belle always asks me a valid question: "What if you were good enough right now?" But what if I am? And what if enough is enough, and better is more me- or to feel like me I need to kind of try things on for size to get the life that feels comfy and fits. What if coffee seems right for a while, but then I can bend another way? And that way is better? What if wondering and trying is my way?

Speaking of trying, and new, and my way- I can't run. This is heartbreaking. Running is my one thing that is ALL MINE. And I can't do it. I keep setting my alarm so I can get up early and walk, but then it goes off and I feel like what's the fucking point? So I'm going to have to wonder and try myself into doing something different for a few months until my foot heals. Another thing to gnash and gnarl over. But I am getting better at noticing when I'm not doing things because I'm fearful in a small or big way. Or knowing that I'm being a big fat ego about it. (walking? Hrumph. That is not running. Walking does not make me a bad ass. Laying in bed ignoring the alarm definitely does not make me a bad ass either!)

So I am good enough right now. And I'll be good enough tomorrow, and the day after that too. And maybe one of these mornings I'll be good enough on a walk. And I won't eat too many cookies when I'm feeling nervous. And I'll keep on trying to do better, not because it's a way for me to beat myself up, but a way to show me how much I really care, that I really really give a fuck.

HIGH FIVE! Sunday 1.27.13

Another week gone by- they fly and sputter all at the same time. On Sundays sometimes I have another blog post I want to write, but then I remind myself that there has to be time out for cheering and encouragement. High five reminds me to think about what's been good about my week, and to give myself a few pats on the back for getting through it. I always want to hear what's been good for you, too- so I can give you a high five and a rock on you rule! -even if the thing you're most proud of is walking the dog on Tuesday. (which I did not do, so good on ya!)

I'm sober fifty-two days today. La la la! I had the non-trapped mind shift. That's worthy of a little statuette. :) I stopped my restrictive diet and have been being gentle with myself when I eat a PB & J, or an entire box of these Moondance chocolate chip cookie bars. The Girl Scout Cookies are coming soon. Lord help me.