Life as Seed

Here we are y'all. Just living, you know, day to day. Making breakfast, making decisions, making a life. I've been finding some measure of comfort lately in the simple of it all. How life has kind of untangled and sort of wanders along. Meanders even.

Lord, I did never ever think my life might just meander.

Even in all my great messiness there was that beauty I was, the beauty I am inside. I could not ever have the appreciation for my simple day to day life if I had not been who I was then. Just the plain act of waking up and realizing that I'm sober rewards me daily. The way I look at my face in the mirror- without shame or malice, oh.

I kind of liken my life to me as a seed. You know, you can drown a plant. There is a such thing as too much water. In trying to grow my beauty (you know, fit in) I suffocated who I really was. Poor pitiful little me pouring my life out. I love the idea that sobriety dries you out, makes you reach to find the water to nourish you. Gets rid of that seed coat and lets you push your tender self right on up and out towards the honesty of a real life. A life with real feelings, and memories, and people who care for you- not the you who makes them feel better about how much they drink- but care for you. Because really you have to be cared for and about. And these are two different things. And then a lot the same. You know, just like people and seeds.

I think about people who are struggling with giving up booze every day. I think about the people I know, and the people I don't know who are in their heads wishing and wondering if it can be done. I wish I could do an on call sobriety service: you call, we hang out and drink seltzer for two weeks until you get your feet under you, and then you stay sober forever. And then I might have to be a magician. And since I'm already juggling too many ideas I can't do that too. So then maybe you have to be a magician for yourself.

Growing something from a seed really is kind of like magic. Put a hard small thing in dirt. Give it water, sun, and caring. Not too much of any of these though. Things can go haywire if you smother something with too much of any of these things. Much like early sobriety (since you're trying to defeat the mess of having too much as it is) you have to figure out how to do things to the here and not the WAY OVER HERE!!!! Your plant will show you what it needs if you pay attention: drooping from too much water, shriveling from too little. Not growing or flowering if there's not any sun. I think you can care about it as much as you want to though. That part will be OK, except not too much since you might need other things to do, too. And then with caring, for and about, your plant will give you cool things like flowers, or tomatoes.

Growing a sober you from a seed is definitely like magic too. Here you are, hard and scared and in the dirt. Just the thought that you can get sober is enough. It's enough to start the magic. And then as you stay sober you start to learn how to grow yourself, you start to see who you are and what you need not just to survive but to thrive. To grow and flower and get a strong trunk and loads of leaves and whatever you want to have your life to be. And the more you care for yourself the easier it gets and the better it is and then maybe you're an orchard or an entire garden center and it rocks.

I've planted a garden on my drinking porch. It looks nothing like it did last spring. Last spring there was a big metal table with an umbrella. A few flower pots and beer bottles full of smelly cigarette butts. Now that table is in the yard, the stinky cigs are gone, and there are tiny plants all over the place, and two bright green plastic chairs. I have also learned, over these past several months, that I've planted a garden in my head: that I can have an abundant, fertile, beautiful life. So as my garden grows on the porch, my sobriety is growing too.

If you are struggling with your magic, if you are wishing for your own garden, I applaud your courage. Just thinking about quitting is hard. Go today and find a something to plant a seed in. Find your seed. Plant it. Even if you're still drinking take care of that little seed. Let it remind you to take care of you. Hold that seed, that little plant instead of a drink. Tell it your problems. Watch it grow. I'm rooting for you.

Old Journals

This has been an emotional weekend. I searched out and found old journals that are mostly about wanting to quit drinking, and a bad relationship I stayed in for seven years. There are a lot of lists, and a lot of wishes. Loads of inspiration. And trying. Many drunk poems about broken hearts. Some are quite cringe-worthy. I had to laugh when I read the title I wanted to give my story: "Must Be Thirty". (Perhaps I'll need to change that to: "Must Be Forty (almost two)".) Ahem.

It's strange and kind of cool to read things I wrote almost thirteen years ago. It made me realize how long it has taken me to get to where I am, right now. How many years went into wishing for sobriety, wishing for freedom from myself. I wanted the right things, I just never could get up the nerve to get them. And when I say I wished for sobriety, I really really did. Every day. I think the only time I wasn't wishing for sobriety was when I was wishing for another drink.

God. Thinking about the years of sadness. The time I spent drowning myself. Not finding the right people to build me up, but searching out the ones who made me that much worse. There's nothing worse for a people pleaser than people who can't be pleased. I read these and remember how much I gave, and gave. How I let people take, and take. How I drank to soothe myself, to forget how awful my life really was. How I lied to myself every single day. How I never cared enough to take my own hand and lead myself out. How I could write about how I wanted to, but it was probably when I was drunk or regretful. The bursts of normalcy: taking walks, drinking tea, reading before bed. How proud I was of those things. Even then I could tell that sobriety was right for me. It's too bad I couldn't keep my promises.

And then, look.

Ten years later. Still writing about the same old things. Talk about denial. Or just plain stupidity. OK, OK. I'm not being mean to myself here, well, not overly. But really? And it still took me two more years to actually give sober a solid go. To LET GO and be brave. Yes, it really was about time.


I am humbled by the years I spent waiting for myself to catch up. How even though I was miserable I kept on going. How it could have been so much worse. And if I kept going all those years when life was heavy and terrible then I can certainly be strong enough to stay the course, to feel the joy and the relief.

I've been practicing for sobriety forever. This is why I am fine in it. Why I feel so right in it. Why it doesn't scare me to say things like "never drink again". Why saying "never drink again" actually makes me want to sing out loud and say things like "thank you jesus" with my hands waving about above my head. Why I can accept the fact that I cannot drink with grace and gratitude. My blog is sober me. These journals reminded me of who I used to be. But really, those two people aren't very different. All they wanted to do was be sober. And that was worth waiting for.

Predicting the Future

I woke up way too early trying to finagle the future again. I wish there were some way to figure out the answer right now. To know the very best choice. To maybe have someone who tells me what to do and then they are always right and I live in bliss for eternity. But a real person. Who might look a lot like Yoda. And sound like Maggie Smith.

When I was drinking, my life just kind of scooched along. It was sort of boring really. The only thing I really really worried about was my drinking. It encompassed everything. It affected everything. It took up all the space in my head. It was big. And solo. A one man band.

Now, holy shit. There is a carnival going on up there. Look over here! Here's this! And that! And this! There are so many options I am starting to feel a little overwhelmed. But in a good way, mostly. The hard part is not knowing how it ends. Not knowing what really is the best choice. Where is Dionne Warwick when I need her? Psychic friends? Hello?

The hardest part of early sobriety for me right now is reigning it all in. I feel like I want to pack all the missed possibilities in. Like right now. Is it possible to be too excited about life? I don't want to go off all willy nilly and end up with handfuls of fits and starts and no results.

And then I think about all the years I spent drinking and wishing for sobriety. And now here it is. Wish come true. Whoa. I mean really. WHOA.

So does that mean that maybe my other wishes can come true, too?

My life is really big right now. It's like I've been speeding around on a windy day in a convertible. Everything's sort of blown all around. I might need some smoothing. Some refining. Perhaps a pretty scarf to keep things together.

I need to remember that I don't need to predict the future because I can trust it. Me. At the carnival. In my pretty scarf.