Again and Again

There are a few times a year when PMS knocks me for a loop. This has been one of those times- you know, one day things are fine, then the next day you want to crawl into the dark closet with a quilt over your head and just cry cry cry your heart out all day because you don't know why but because.

I imagine this is a tiny taste of what depression might be like. Things go sideways and there isn't really an explanation- just this deep feeling of everything and nothing all at once, but then there's also  intense impatience and quickness to anger that I'm not sure where to put. In an argument with my seven year old about getting ready for school I flipped him the bird and yelled "Fuck you!" at him. I picked a fight with my husband about the same thing we always are trying to work out. Twice. I came home from work and sat in the car sobbing for a long time before I wanted to come inside.

I can remember when I first got sober it was like a revelation when I could feel the crazy creeping up on me. I would start to feel impatient, and irrational, and weepy but I would know what it was: PMS. I never knew this before. Drinking I was always so off center because I was hungover and I felt like hell, guilty and ashamed. Sober I knew it was my wacky hormones being out of whack. Then I found an app that would keep track of it for me and it's been lovely that as soon as I feel off kilter I peek at my app and yes- the concrete evidence is there. I am not just batshit crazy, I'm definitely not hungover; there's a real reason for all these flying around feelings.

Again and again it seems like I am always looking for reasons for things. Reasons why I feel this way, or that way. Reasons why my seven year old can't manage to get ready sometimes. Reasons why I have to be so feeling when it seems so easy for some people to be so blasé about it all. Reasons why people blow themselves up in Paris, why at a football game I can't help but feel compassion for the losing team. I really wanted to go down on the field and say "Hey y'all, wouldn't it be more fun to play football? And maybe after have some coffee and cookies?" It seems like I am always looking for explanations to make things that don't make sense make sense. If I find the reason then I can find the solution and then I'll be able to understand. Lately I've been having this urge to hold everyone in my heart because I want it all to be ok. Like a giant Kumbaya on crack. Which seems like an odd thing to say on a blog about addiction, but well, maybe you know what I mean.

I've been doing a lot of heart opening. I wish I could explain how you do this in steps and then it could be easy, but I don't really know. There's a lot of laying on the floor, getting my body on the ground. A lot of not concentrating on outcomes, a lot of not being the same as always. I didn't really know it was happening to me until I just now thought about that it has been happening to me, but I did know too. It has been my intention, but I didn't really realize that it was actually working until I thought about it. Which seems to be the case for every fucking thing- I set out to do it, kind of forget I'm doing it, but I've put that intention out there and so the universe is hard at work answering my prayers anyway. Then things get good, but also tough and sad, and then I remember my intention and feel awesome but also pissed off because dammit! Prayers are meant to be answered...ohhhhh, right.

There aren't a lot of big things weighing on me- it's all the little things that pile up together making a big thing. Actually it's my attachment to all these little things that make a big thing. I'm reading about avidya (spiritual ignorance) and it makes so much sense- because I am afraid I become attached to these little things and I forget that I am already who I'm supposed to be. Because I am already who I'm supposed to be I don't need to be afraid and attached. But I'm so attached to my attachment to the little things! Who am I if I'm not my idiosyncrasies or victories? Who is my self if I am not supported by these illusions?

Rolf Gates says, "Our pain is simply feedback from the universe: 'No, that's not it; no, that's not it either. Oh yes, you are getting a little warmer, a little warmer. Ooops, you're getting a little colder.'" I think that's such a cool way to think about it- the universe playing the hot/cold game with me. It makes it easier to take when I feel so sad and lost inside, or when I'm feeding my arrogance and not my confidence. Such a simple message: change direction. Move to where you are comfortable, where it feels better. Too hot or too cold- move to where it feels good. I don't have to all over everytime question it: Shouldn't I push myself though? or Whoa! Is that too much? These are just things I can know how to answer.

The day I cried in the car after work was a big step for me. It wasn't awesome to feel so sad, but it was awesome to let that sadness out- to feel my heart breaking and know that it was okay- I found the right spot in the hot/cold game. As soon as I yelled "Fuck you!" at my son I had a big peace come over me and I got quiet and said "I love you. Let's stop fighting." It took a minute, but he did, and grabbed me around the neck and we both cried. The right spot again. I often wonder who made the rule that hearts are wrong unless they're singing?

Again and again I find my life to be so much like seasons: after winter must come spring. And then around around again. Slowly circling around the spiral reaching closer and closer to center. Sometimes the view is the same, again. Sometimes it's all so new I don't know where to look. It isn't about arriving at the center though- it's about getting there even though you're already there. It's about seeing when you've mistaken your pain for pleasure, and then healing along the way. It's about taking a knowing look at yourself and understanding that the grace comes when you surrender and allow your prayers to be answered. Sometimes that's the hardest thing to do, again and again.

Back Up

I just finished re-reading part of LIT, by Mary Karr. When she's talking about being brave about spirituality and praying I started feeling a little antsy and also intrigued.

Y'all, I want to pray.

Religion is a damn hard thing for me: my own mother thinks God is a joke. She thinks people are fooling themselves to believe that some man in the sky is waving his arms and controlling it all. That religion is a collection of stories made up so rich men get richer and the poor just get religion.

In my own self I am suspicious of myself for thinking about taking spirituality seriously.

But I need it.

This quote got me:

"I've hitchhiked in Mexico and blustered drunk into biker bars all mouthy. Those acts all strike me as more pitiful than brave- the sad bravado of a girl with little to lose."

That was me: I drank so much and the way I did because I had little to lose. Even a husband and children did not seem to be big enough to make me understand that I had worlds to lose. I felt worthless all the time. Unconnected to a thread within myself than made me feel cradled and valued. Worthy.

I'm starting to feel like prayer and the Great Spirit are all part of the puzzle. That I need to feel the higher power that is part of me, not apart from me.

"You don't do it for God! You do it for yourself. All this is for you...the prayer, the meditation, even the service work. I do it for myself, too. I'm not that benevolent."

"How does getting on your knees do anything for you?"

"Janice says, 'It makes you the right size. You do it to teach yourself something. When my disease has a hold of me, it tells me my suffering is special or unique, but it's the same as everybody's. I kneel to put my body in that place, because otherwise, my mind can't grasp it.'"

Yesterday was hard. I ate too many pieces of chocolate and a handful of Girl Scout cookies at 11 PM when I couldn't sleep. I powered down three pieces of deep dish pizza for dinner and made myself feel a little sick. I knew I was off, I knew my sweet self was wobbly and I had no where in me to go.

There is reaching out for help, and then there's being able to reach in for help. I have got to be able to reach in: I am by nature not comfortable sharing my struggles with others. When life is being regular day to day life I need a place in me to touchstone for comfort: a place to say "Here comes the crazy making. Help." I have people I can lean on for support, but I need myself to be part of that group.

And in myself I think there is God. I think that by being able to pray, to lay down burdens and offer gratitude I can continue heal my little to lose self. It comforts me to think that I can get quiet and have a place of my own to go when I feel anxious. It makes me uncomfortable to get all God-y and help me Jesus, but so be it. I'm taking offers of help from all Great Spirits out there- anyone who will listen.

"'Faith is not a feeling,' she says. It's a set of actions. By taking the actions, you demonstrate more faith than somebody who actually has experienced the rewards of prayer and so feels hope. Fake it till you make it. Didn't you fake half your life drinking?'"

"Wouldn't any god be pissed that I only show up now, with machine gun fire on my ass?"

"'First off- can't you see this?- you have a concept of God already. It's one who's pissed at you.'"

I don't feel like God is pissed at me, just indifferent. But in my life I have longed for a savior. But I have always felt that that savior was part of myself: that it could be found in the trees and in a simple kindness. That I didn't have to put on a skirt and get to a building one morning a week to find that savior, but that it is all around me.

And then I sort of snort at myself in my head. Fool.

But it keeps coming up.

It keeps coming back.

Find some religion. Find a spirit. Pray some. Be vulnerable, even when I feel like a fool and want to pretend I don't believe. Find some magic, make it my own.

"'You were saved for something,' she says. Don't die before you find out what. What's your dream for your life?"

"Just pray every day for ninety days and see if your life gets better. Call it a scientific experiment. You might not get the money, but you might find relief from anxiety about money. What do you have to lose?"

And truthfully, I need some back up.

Making Room

Here is a miracle y'all: I am ten months sober today. From the day I got sober I could have grown a tiny delicate bunch of cells into a fat little ready for the world baby. That's kind of what it feels like I've done- created the miracle of a new life.

Phew.

Miracle. I love that word. It's so big, and possible. And it implies people got saved, and it was good.

When I was drinking I was full of spirits, but not full of spirit. I had a lot of prayer but it was mostly about helping me get away from booze and also about get me through this day please. Then I said the same prayers when I got sober. A lot.

I've been thinking about being spiritual. And being OK with it. As in, not embarrassed.

I've been thinking that I'm ready to pray about other stuff besides keep me sober. That I'm ready.

I believe in the universe, in nature, and that things happen for a reason. I believe that there are things and forces and energies out there fluxing and flowing making it all go. I believe if you pray and put intentions and dreams out into the universe or to your big superpower person that these forces conspire to make wishes come true if they're meant to be. I believe the universe works with you, not against you- even when you don't get what you think you want. I believe that if you are honest with yourself something backs you up. I know that when I finally soul deep down meant it when I begged to be sober it worked. I mean, something clicked.

My mother will laugh in your face if you tell her you believe in God. She finds religion, spirituality, and faith a big fat waste of time that could be better spent watching "Project Runway". I was always told that if I wanted some of God's love that was fine, but I knew secretly she would think I was stupid for even trying. After the childhood she had I know why. If I had been a little girl in her house, with her parents, I would not believe God or any other savior existed either.

There are so many lines in spirituality. There are my mother's lines, and your lines. There are the lines of those people who just look so beatific that you almost feel embarrassed that you aren't so overtaken. There are the lines that make people sinners and hell bound. There are my lines: how I want to believe in a greater force, and I do, but only in a half-hearted way that never gets anybody anywhere.

We talked about religion and spirituality in my therapy group last week. That they are not the same thing. One of the women who is Catholic spoke about the ceremony of religion and spirituality, how that gets her through hard times like death of loved ones and also what to make for dinner Tuesday night. How there is always someone there for you, whenever you need them. I want some ceremony. I want a backer. I want it for me, for my children. For my spirit.

But church can be hard to swallow. And hard to get to. And believing can seem like something for people who can't take care of themselves. So needy. So weak. And we already have to get dressed to go somewhere on at least five other days.

I drank for over twenty years searching for some salvation. Then I got sober. Now I eat too many cookies when maybe what I really need to do is pray. Maybe what I really need is some kind of spiritual connection. Some ceremony. Some believing. A way to cleanse and fill my spirit with the light and goodness that is all around and in me. Some relief. The balance we all naturally get from the universe because we be.

There is part of me that knows that I have to open my heart to the love in offering. That there is this "thing" that wants to envelop me. That because I am sober I can be not afraid to be loved, or to love back. Since I'm not drowning in a well of booze and self loathing I can actually feel the warm approval that was there all along. All along.

So maybe it really doesn't have to have a name, or a God. I can, right here, right now, embrace my spirit. I can believe because I want to. I can say it out loud, "I believe". And that doesn't mean I have to get myself to church, or that I'm going to try to convince you. It means I need something to believe in, and now here's room to open the door. :)