I Can't

Today is a day, if I still drank, that I would be a little drunk on the porch right now. I'd be smoking, surfing around on the web. Adding ice and seltzer to my wine so it lasts longer. Dear God, I can even just inhale and feel the relief from that.

But. I don't drink anymore. I do this other thing: I deal.

Do you ever have those days where it's not really that bad, but it just really sucked? Or, really only one thing really sucked, but then there's all these underlying things that keep nagging, insisting on popping up over and over and over.

Like the ladies in my neighborhood. We used to hang out all the time. Drink on the weekends. I used to listen to A talk about B. B talk about C. C talk about B and A. One of them is a pathological liar. They all sort of bait each other. But act like the best of friends. And then tear one another down behind each others backs. I realized quickly when I quit drinking that I wanted no part of that drama anymore. I hadn't even realized how in the middle I was. So I stepped back. Created distance. Created awkward.

And then days like today happen- I'm innocently walking my eight year old to school and voila. Here they are, walking their kids to school. And I don't want to deal. I want to pretend we forgot something and go back to the house. But it was too late. So we walk along, slowly. But they slow down too. And I just cannot figure out how to avoid it. We say hello (why must some folk be so over the top at this?) and it's fine, but I'm nervous and I just want to say, "Please. Just go away from us."

I realize on my way home why I feel this way. This is exactly how I felt in high school. Trapped in the middle of friends who pretended they liked each other. Stupid clueless me. I was always people pleasing. Always going along with it just to fit in. It bit me in the ass over and over and I still kept on doing it. Right up until last December when I decided to stop being in the middle and make friends who liked me, not who wanted me around because I would listen to them bitch about each other and keep it a secret.

And then later this afternoon I realize this can be as big, or as little as I make it. Since I am in control here. So I decide to make it not awkward. I can be friendly, and kind. I can treat them as I want to be treated, and keep my distance without making my life in the 'hood hard. Phew.

Then I get an email from my son's teacher. Asking if something is different at home because he's been really intense about things for the past few weeks. My oldest is intense by nature. He is this 40 year old man trapped in an eight year old's body. He is a perfectionist. So hard on himself. So angry sometimes he tells me that the only thing that makes him feel better is if he hurts himself. He is super smart, and super competitive. Super intense. He is also charming, and funny. Quirky. Sharp. Loving. He has amazing manners. He looks you in the eye when he talks to you. He might need some help.

So I reached out and asked for help. Got a recommendation from the pediatrician for a child psychiatrist. Another recommendation from a friend whose partner is a psychiatrist. I'll make an appointment tomorrow. It will make him feel better. It might change his life. It might make it so he can deal without having to go through twenty years of drinking to do it.

All day I just kept telling myself to open my heart. To not close it and try to hide it all away, but open it wide and let everyone see inside. See that I'm hurting. And scared. See that I'm dealing by not drowning my worries away in a sea of white wine and just-please-can-I-forgets. I dealt with what I was given today by looking closely even though my stomach was in knots and I wanted to look away. I can't do that if I'm drunk.

I can't tell what will happen with either situation, or the other handful of things I'm worrying about right now. I can't hide under the covers and wish the hard stuff away. I can't ignore how much stronger I've become in the past almost six months. I can't pretend everything is OK, even though I'm scared that maybe it really isn't. And I can't imagine how I got through my life while I was drinking all my problems away. Oh, right. I didn't.

So tonight I'm so grateful for my sobriety. So grateful to myself for sticking with myself even when the going is getting tough. So grateful for this woman I can trust, this me that tells me it will be OK, have an orange and go watch "Parenthood". There has not been a much better feeling than knowing I've got my own back. That I can trust myself to be vulnerable. That I can deal with it. Whatever comes along.

A Little Struggle-y

This has been a week. Life is in one of those sort of weird trampoline moments where it feels up and then down, and then up and then maybe face plant. 

I have been thinking so much about drinking this week. Out of the blue, suddenly and without warning. I almost teared up thinking of a gin martini driving home from work. I keep looking at the back porch thinking about getting it ready for us to use and feeling so so sad that I won't be out there swilling wine, smoking cigs well into the night for the spring and summer. Ugh, I know. Doesn't that sound so...awful? And yet so much like my real life that I want to throw it on like an old sweater then quickly turn my head so I can't see this pretty life over here. 

It's hard to get used to me this week. I'm doing with sweets what I used to do with booze, without the hangover and blackouts which is nice, but still that out of control behavior that makes me so mad at me. Which means something is bothering me, but I don't know what it is yet, and instead of doing some soul searching to figure it out I've been downing cheesecake and cookies and jelly beans. And salted caramel popcorn. And cherry cheese coffee cake.  And maybe helping bite the heads off of chocolate Easter bunnies. 

That's the hardest part too, the part where even though I'm not pounding away at the chardonnay I'm still carrying on with the defeating behavior. It's like I'm eight years old and I'm trying to get away with something. And I know I won't get in trouble because I'm the parent and the child. But then I'm not in trouble, I'm just silently beaten up in my head all day, so I didn't get away with anything. Anything at all.

Deep breath. 

Do you ever get through a week and wonder who lived your part? If it was even you since someone made all these bad decisions and now here you are scratching your head without a clue who it was that thought all that junk was a good idea? And how even though I don't drink anymore I'm still behaving like an alcoholic? How that's not fucking fair because I don't drink anymore? 

I'm not good at struggle. I'm not good at not looking the part- you know, the part. The one where life is good, everything is fine. I cannot be vulnerable or people will think I'm weak. And if I'm weak then I'm not doing it right. And, hold up. People might see the real me. Who I'm really starting to like, but I'm delicate. I don't need folks tromping all over my fresh new feelings. I mean, it is spring over here y'all. My tender emotions still need time to get middle-of-summer-leaves tough. 

The boys are gone for the whole week on spring break with their grandparents. I've been thinking about going to a...meeting. I adore everyone here (more than you could ever know since you can't see my face, nor I yours) but I also may need some face time. Some real arms to hug and say "It's OK" that don't belong to my husband or my mom. A friend or two who knows what I'm going through and can stand to talk about it for a long time, more than once. I need some reinforcements. Eyes to look into and voices that say, "I understand exactly where you're coming from. There, there."

I don't know how I feel about the whole premise of AA. It doesn't feel "right for me". And by "right for me" I mean, well....the religious thing. I love the thought of love and faith. But do I believe there's some entity controlling all of this? Well, no. No I don't. I'm not a fan of religion per se. This is a hard thing to explain. I could be all about surrender, and be powerless to control what happens except for me and my choices. That is true. I have always loved the singing at church, so maybe I can find a singing AA group and go from there. AA feels sort of brain-wash-y to me. I don't know. I just don't know.

So here I am again. I have to kind of laugh at myself since I've finally taken some time to sit and think. You know, THINK. Work through some shit. Tie up some of the loose ends that have been noisily flapping around in my head all week. Taking a few minutes to batten down the hatches, put down the cookies, and get on with it.