the holiday break has been a breakthrough. or maybe it's been filled with several fissures that have both shaken and calmed me to the core. the gratitude is through the roof. there have been moments that i have felt it in a physical sense.
sure, the holidays are exhausting and the break from school is tough on all four of us. but during the past few weeks i have experienced true joy, sadness, humor, fear and love. being willing to quit drinking and then making the tough choices to stay sober are the reason i am filled to the brim with, well, feelings.
but the freedom. oh, the fucking freedom of not having to sit/relish/stew in any of those feelings. of not having to justify my anger or my anything. the freedom of going out to new restaurants or bars and enjoying my time with my husband and friends. of not even noticing the drinks much less that i'm not consuming one. the freedom to be myself. hell, the freedom to discover myself.
my life is simple and it is better than ever.
this is not because i received the perfect gift from my husband (that will never happen) or my kids have done a 360 and actually do what i ask them to do the first or even fourth time. it's not because i am zen-ed out and serene. i know this because my gift Esposo bought in Paris was not "Parisian enough" and my kids aren't listening to anything but the MP3 players they got for Xmas. it's because when i am pissed (usually at one of the three of them) or am terrified (Sugar had surgery 2 days after Xmas), i am able to feel it and move on. to do what needs to be done for me or, more importantly, for others...even if that means an apology...and i am present. my being present is barely ever zen-ed out or serene.
i thrive on change. i like a challenge. new situations are invigorating to me. but this...this deep-down feeling of gratitude. this is a new deal for sure. it's a deal that i am standing in the middle of rather than dipping in my toe like before.
Sugar is really sensitive, especially to movies -- she cried during the entire latest Ice Age because the family was torn apart in beginning...even though she knows the Mammoths end up together. and she bawls every time she hears the theme song to Splash. Rita Coolidge's smooth tones bring her to tears.
i have been like Sugar over this break. even though Esposo and i are movie snobs, we took kids to see Parental Guidance. i teared up more than once during that flick. see what i mean...the feelings?! watching Django Unchained, hosting Christmas dinner, fancy dinner date with husband, my baby girl's surgery, tons snd tons of family togetherness, my 42nd birthday celebration...and through all of it, this unusual comforting feeling of gratitude.
like many of us ex-boozehounds, i am hyper aware of certain behaviors in my children...insatiable, restless, uber-sensitive...and worry they may struggle with their substance of choice later in life. there's been a drastic shift here lately. that may very well be the case for them but i have learned and am honestly accepting that i am not in control of any of it. i can make better choices and go above and beyond to address their needs. but the main thing i can do is be here for them. i mean, really be here for them.
right this very moment, this fucking disease is breaking up families and the hearts of people i love. i am constantly reminded of this and must be diligent to remember that it could easily be me or my family.
the batshit-crazy thoughts, the hard-as-hell moments where it's hard breathe, the seeing-red anger i've experienced drinking and in early sobriety. those thoughts and feelings crop up but that's it. they don't consume me. being consumed with gratitude will most certainly pass. now that i've felt it in my bones, i am more present and semi-serene. now that is a 360 for me.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Three Years
three years...1,095 days...36 months.
one year is sort of a blur riddled with discomfort, constantly feeling raw and exposed, rewiring my brain to keep from lifting the escape hatch (opening a bottle). hitting the mark was big deal but was told the first two are really tough so remained willing to stay on course. year two was somewhat easier, spent settling in to a life without booze and celebrated with a trip to nyc. and so, year three...
here you are. hi there. nice of you to keep our much-anticipated date. was determined to meet you but was never certain we'd hook up. i've talked about our rendevous being around the corner. i've thought about the props you deserve for the big insights and accomplishments during the past few years. i've had dreams that made me question whether our date was still on. the dreams where i had a few glasses wine and woke up wondering if i'd been lying about being sober. well, our big date is tomorrow. a random friday with Fella catching his bus and regular carpool and doctor appointment for Sugar.
last nite, i was talking to Esposo about our crazy-ass antics from our 20s. as he said, you get a pass in college and maybe those first few years after graduation but acting like a jack-ass in our late-20s and early 30s was reckless, insane and immature. but in the middle of all of it, it seemed incredibly normal. we got married when i was 32 and he was 33. all of our friends were partiers. we were partiers. i have many fond, fun memories and experiences that invloved booze. tons. but looking back at our partying with a new perspective sheds a bright fucking light on how out of control my/our drinking was, especially when i consider that i stopped a couple of months shy of turning 40.
this shift in perspective is the biggest reward of recovery. my perspective has flipped as far as who i am, what i deserve, what i can accept, what i can get away with, what i have to offer others. my perspective on where i fit in the world. in my family. in my kid's lives.
i have a completely different perspective on what is normal. what may have seemed normal for all those years was everything but...it was full of delusion, denial, justification, rationalization, pride, ego, fear and selfishness.
alcoholism has been called a disease of perception. my perception is skewed. it's how my brain is wired. take away the Vino and it's still skewed. accepting the fact that my natural perception is distorted was a big challenge. today i see that accepting this is fundamental to my recovery.
some things are certain about my big date tomorrow:
--i will wake up without a hangover. this, by the way, has been enough reason to not pick up a drink on my hardest days/hours of sobriety. not having a hangover, however mild, is fucking enormous.
--i will be annoyed or agitated at some point during the day but i won't automatically desire a glass of wine to numb the discomfort.
--i will think, "maybe i'm not really an alcoholic" because even with all of the self-knowledge and concrete evidence to the contrary, this thought pops into my head when i least expect it.
--i will go to dinner with sharp, witty, sober friends and yes, i will notice the wine on the other tables, but i won't be angry or sad that it's not on ours.
--i will still be the same defiant, foul-mouthed, liberal and loyal friend, daughter, mother and wife obsessed with finding the perfect lip gloss and fall nail color.
from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof:
Brick: Somethin' hasn't happened yet. Big Daddy: What's that? Brick: A click in my head. Big Daddy: Did you say "click"? Brick: Yes sir, the click in my head that makes me feel peaceful. Big Daddy: Boy, sometimes you worry me. Brick: It's like a switch, clickin' off in my head. Turns the hot light off and the cool one on, and all of a sudden there's peace. Big Daddy: Boy, you're, you're a real alcoholic! Brick: That is the truth. Yes, sir, I am an alcoholic. So if you'd just excuse me... Big Daddy: [grabbing him] No, I won't excuse you. Brick: Now I'm waitin' for that click and I don't get it. Listen, I'm all alone. I'm talkin' to no one where there's absolute quiet. Big Daddy: You'll hear plenty of that in the grave soon enough.
at three years, i am certain i am a real alcoholic. i am learning how to dim the hot light and brighten the cool one. not shut one off to experience the other. thank you to my sober family and the sober bloggers whose honesty, humor and insight helped me get here. and thank you to my dear friends and family who have been beside me drinking, quitting drinking and not drinking. if it wasn't for you, i would be all alone still searching for that click.
one year is sort of a blur riddled with discomfort, constantly feeling raw and exposed, rewiring my brain to keep from lifting the escape hatch (opening a bottle). hitting the mark was big deal but was told the first two are really tough so remained willing to stay on course. year two was somewhat easier, spent settling in to a life without booze and celebrated with a trip to nyc. and so, year three...
here you are. hi there. nice of you to keep our much-anticipated date. was determined to meet you but was never certain we'd hook up. i've talked about our rendevous being around the corner. i've thought about the props you deserve for the big insights and accomplishments during the past few years. i've had dreams that made me question whether our date was still on. the dreams where i had a few glasses wine and woke up wondering if i'd been lying about being sober. well, our big date is tomorrow. a random friday with Fella catching his bus and regular carpool and doctor appointment for Sugar.
last nite, i was talking to Esposo about our crazy-ass antics from our 20s. as he said, you get a pass in college and maybe those first few years after graduation but acting like a jack-ass in our late-20s and early 30s was reckless, insane and immature. but in the middle of all of it, it seemed incredibly normal. we got married when i was 32 and he was 33. all of our friends were partiers. we were partiers. i have many fond, fun memories and experiences that invloved booze. tons. but looking back at our partying with a new perspective sheds a bright fucking light on how out of control my/our drinking was, especially when i consider that i stopped a couple of months shy of turning 40.
this shift in perspective is the biggest reward of recovery. my perspective has flipped as far as who i am, what i deserve, what i can accept, what i can get away with, what i have to offer others. my perspective on where i fit in the world. in my family. in my kid's lives.
i have a completely different perspective on what is normal. what may have seemed normal for all those years was everything but...it was full of delusion, denial, justification, rationalization, pride, ego, fear and selfishness.
alcoholism has been called a disease of perception. my perception is skewed. it's how my brain is wired. take away the Vino and it's still skewed. accepting the fact that my natural perception is distorted was a big challenge. today i see that accepting this is fundamental to my recovery.
some things are certain about my big date tomorrow:
--i will wake up without a hangover. this, by the way, has been enough reason to not pick up a drink on my hardest days/hours of sobriety. not having a hangover, however mild, is fucking enormous.
--i will be annoyed or agitated at some point during the day but i won't automatically desire a glass of wine to numb the discomfort.
--i will think, "maybe i'm not really an alcoholic" because even with all of the self-knowledge and concrete evidence to the contrary, this thought pops into my head when i least expect it.
--i will go to dinner with sharp, witty, sober friends and yes, i will notice the wine on the other tables, but i won't be angry or sad that it's not on ours.
--i will still be the same defiant, foul-mouthed, liberal and loyal friend, daughter, mother and wife obsessed with finding the perfect lip gloss and fall nail color.
from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof:
at three years, i am certain i am a real alcoholic. i am learning how to dim the hot light and brighten the cool one. not shut one off to experience the other. thank you to my sober family and the sober bloggers whose honesty, humor and insight helped me get here. and thank you to my dear friends and family who have been beside me drinking, quitting drinking and not drinking. if it wasn't for you, i would be all alone still searching for that click.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Now I Am A High-Functioning Alcoholic
in 3 weeks i'll have 3 years without any Vino. today more than ever, i need to be accountable, diligent and honest about my disease and remind myself of why i will be celebrating this milestone.
i called myself a high-functioning alcoholic when i quit drinking and joked about being one for years before i got sober.
definition of a high-functioning alcoholic:
A high-functioning alcoholic (HFA) is an alcoholic who is able to maintain his or her outside life, such as a job, home, family and friendships, all while drinking alcoholically. HFAs have the same disease as the stereotypical "skid row" alcoholic, but it manifests or progresses differently. Many HFAs are not viewed by society as being alcoholic, because they have succeeded and overachieved throughout their lifetimes. These achievements often lead to an increase in personal denial as well as denial from colleagues and loved ones. HFAs are less apt to feel that they need treatment for their alcoholism and often slide through the cracks of the healthcare system, both medically and psychologically, because they are often not diagnosed.
HFAs can exhibit different drinking patterns and warning signs at various phases of their drinking. Common warning signs include, but are not limited to:
- Experiencing a craving for more alcohol after having one drink, leading to a loss of control over alcohol intake
don't think i ever had an off-switch. crossed the line from euphoric buzz to messy drunk or passing out throughout my entire drinking career
- Obsessing about alcohol and the next time they can drink
the mental obsession was there long before i recognized it. i deserved that glass of wine at 5 o clock, dammit, and i wasn't typically drinking that glass or the second or third alone.
- Not being able to imagine their lives without alcohol
this kept me drinking for a long time and i felt this way for many months of early sobriety
- Feeling shame and remorse from drunken behavior
flashes of drunken behavior and pieces of drunken conversations would hang over me for many hours or days after a "bad" night out
- Having failed attempts to control drinking
dipped toe into AA three and a half years before getting sober; was only a daily or almost daily wine drinker for 9 months before quitting; a pregnancy and nursing baby while controlling drinking
- Surrounding themselves with others who drink heavily
no question here. partiers are more fun, more intelligent and more interesting; boredom and boring people were legitimate reasons to drink; i wasn't usually drinking alone...maybe the "glass or two" while cooking supper for family or the "getting ready" glass or two before going out or the "nightcap" after being out were consumed alone
- Compulsively finishing alcoholic drinks—even someone else's
who the hell leaves a little wine in the bottom of their glass? they are the ones with the "problem"
- Being skilled at living a compartmentalized life in terms of separating their drinking lives from their professional/family lives
absolutely
- Making excuses for their drinking or using alcohol as a reward for their hard work
motherhood and especially the second baby was the gasoline that ignited the alcoholic fire; i deserved that drink or drinks at the end of the day for staying home with my babies; it was part of my identity and what separated me from the tedious parts of mothering; no matter that i didn't have my kids till i was nearly 35 and 38 and chose to give up my career and stay home with them, i still deserved a reward at the end of the day for doing what i chose to do
- Thinking that drinking expensive alcohol or wine implies they are not alcoholic
box vino - no fucking way; a nice malbec in the fall and a crisp pinot gris in summer
- Hiding alcohol consumption by sneaking alcohol before a social event or drinking alone
like to say i never "lied" about my drinking. that "getting ready" glass was in the open or in the roadie cup on the way to an event so i wasn't hiding it
- Drinking despite adverse consequences (either emotional or physical)
oh, let's see. being hungover almost everyday for the months leading up to getting sober; the wretched hangovers i endured at least a few days a week since college; the blurry fights with boyfriends or husband. he says, "did you mean what you said last nite?" me: "which part?" then justify and rationalize half of what i remembered
- Experiencing blackouts or memory lapses
oh, hell yes. but the beauty of these are that i didn't remember and nothing really horrible happened, right?
it's tough to quit drinking without severe external consequences and it's tough to ask for help when it appears that you have it all together. bottom line, if you're an alcoholic, it's tough to quit drinking, period. i am grateful i quit nearly three years ago. even being able to write that and honestly mean it is something i never thought would be true for me. maybe for all you fucked-up, low bottom boozehounds, but not my put-together, Malbec-guzzling ass.
no doubt about it, i am an alcoholic. doesn't matter that i wasn't putting a shot of whiskey in my coffee or hiding vodka bottles in the linen closet. today, i can honestly say i am a high-functioning alcoholic. i have the disease of alcoholism but because i am in recovery, i am high-functioning.
i am not half-ass functioning with a hangover. not half-ass functioning at the end of the night after a bottle of wine. not half-ass functioning because i am compartmentalizing "my drinking" from "my mothering." not half-ass functioning because the yuckage, blurry night was earlier this month and i've been "fine" the past few weeks. not half-ass present for my family and friends because my brain is focused on when i get to go out for wine-down wednesday or when the clock will strike 5 so i can relax with a glass of Vino.
my ass might not be guzzling Malbec or always put together and serene, but it is sitting in a meeting at least once a week. and that's exactly where my ass needs to be.
i called myself a high-functioning alcoholic when i quit drinking and joked about being one for years before i got sober.
definition of a high-functioning alcoholic:
A high-functioning alcoholic (HFA) is an alcoholic who is able to maintain his or her outside life, such as a job, home, family and friendships, all while drinking alcoholically. HFAs have the same disease as the stereotypical "skid row" alcoholic, but it manifests or progresses differently. Many HFAs are not viewed by society as being alcoholic, because they have succeeded and overachieved throughout their lifetimes. These achievements often lead to an increase in personal denial as well as denial from colleagues and loved ones. HFAs are less apt to feel that they need treatment for their alcoholism and often slide through the cracks of the healthcare system, both medically and psychologically, because they are often not diagnosed.
HFAs can exhibit different drinking patterns and warning signs at various phases of their drinking. Common warning signs include, but are not limited to:
- Experiencing a craving for more alcohol after having one drink, leading to a loss of control over alcohol intake
don't think i ever had an off-switch. crossed the line from euphoric buzz to messy drunk or passing out throughout my entire drinking career
- Obsessing about alcohol and the next time they can drink
the mental obsession was there long before i recognized it. i deserved that glass of wine at 5 o clock, dammit, and i wasn't typically drinking that glass or the second or third alone.
- Not being able to imagine their lives without alcohol
this kept me drinking for a long time and i felt this way for many months of early sobriety
- Feeling shame and remorse from drunken behavior
flashes of drunken behavior and pieces of drunken conversations would hang over me for many hours or days after a "bad" night out
- Having failed attempts to control drinking
dipped toe into AA three and a half years before getting sober; was only a daily or almost daily wine drinker for 9 months before quitting; a pregnancy and nursing baby while controlling drinking
- Surrounding themselves with others who drink heavily
no question here. partiers are more fun, more intelligent and more interesting; boredom and boring people were legitimate reasons to drink; i wasn't usually drinking alone...maybe the "glass or two" while cooking supper for family or the "getting ready" glass or two before going out or the "nightcap" after being out were consumed alone
- Compulsively finishing alcoholic drinks—even someone else's
who the hell leaves a little wine in the bottom of their glass? they are the ones with the "problem"
- Being skilled at living a compartmentalized life in terms of separating their drinking lives from their professional/family lives
absolutely
- Making excuses for their drinking or using alcohol as a reward for their hard work
motherhood and especially the second baby was the gasoline that ignited the alcoholic fire; i deserved that drink or drinks at the end of the day for staying home with my babies; it was part of my identity and what separated me from the tedious parts of mothering; no matter that i didn't have my kids till i was nearly 35 and 38 and chose to give up my career and stay home with them, i still deserved a reward at the end of the day for doing what i chose to do
- Thinking that drinking expensive alcohol or wine implies they are not alcoholic
box vino - no fucking way; a nice malbec in the fall and a crisp pinot gris in summer
- Hiding alcohol consumption by sneaking alcohol before a social event or drinking alone
like to say i never "lied" about my drinking. that "getting ready" glass was in the open or in the roadie cup on the way to an event so i wasn't hiding it
- Drinking despite adverse consequences (either emotional or physical)
oh, let's see. being hungover almost everyday for the months leading up to getting sober; the wretched hangovers i endured at least a few days a week since college; the blurry fights with boyfriends or husband. he says, "did you mean what you said last nite?" me: "which part?" then justify and rationalize half of what i remembered
- Experiencing blackouts or memory lapses
oh, hell yes. but the beauty of these are that i didn't remember and nothing really horrible happened, right?
it's tough to quit drinking without severe external consequences and it's tough to ask for help when it appears that you have it all together. bottom line, if you're an alcoholic, it's tough to quit drinking, period. i am grateful i quit nearly three years ago. even being able to write that and honestly mean it is something i never thought would be true for me. maybe for all you fucked-up, low bottom boozehounds, but not my put-together, Malbec-guzzling ass.
no doubt about it, i am an alcoholic. doesn't matter that i wasn't putting a shot of whiskey in my coffee or hiding vodka bottles in the linen closet. today, i can honestly say i am a high-functioning alcoholic. i have the disease of alcoholism but because i am in recovery, i am high-functioning.
i am not half-ass functioning with a hangover. not half-ass functioning at the end of the night after a bottle of wine. not half-ass functioning because i am compartmentalizing "my drinking" from "my mothering." not half-ass functioning because the yuckage, blurry night was earlier this month and i've been "fine" the past few weeks. not half-ass present for my family and friends because my brain is focused on when i get to go out for wine-down wednesday or when the clock will strike 5 so i can relax with a glass of Vino.
my ass might not be guzzling Malbec or always put together and serene, but it is sitting in a meeting at least once a week. and that's exactly where my ass needs to be.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Raw and Uncooked
my dear friend, A.G., forwarded a most poignant, exceptional essay written by her friend in Portland. after reading it, i sent a reply and copied a select group. A.G. urged me to post the email unedited "raw and uncooked." so here it is:
recently, i have been bashing a certain segment of martha-stewarty-hyper-local-hipstery-used-to-live-in-brooklyn-homemadebabyfood-to-homegrown-veggie-CSA-loving mothers.
every year, Esposo asks if we are going to do a CSA and i say the same thing. "doing the best i can to make meals the kids will eat. i am NOT cooking kale and beets. and you don't cook."
at a farmers market last saturday i requested Esposo to purchase tomatoes and corn -- both for kids. that's it. and also to please not pick up veggies that look good because i will not be making them. the irony of writing that we were at a farmers market is not lost....said market is across from my saturday AA meeting. lots of people with dogs. lots of beards. lots of $15 honey. my kids have been twice and both times got bright blue slushies.
last week Esposo brought home squash and zucchini from some asshole at work who has a garden. i did not cook it and asked him to stop bringing it home. a day later he brought home a GIGANTIC phallic zucchini. before i could throw out a WTF? he said it was left in his cubicle. we are talking the size veggie that wins a prize at a state fair. gave it to a neighbor.
i needed to read this...Why I Hate Food. A Polemic by Mary Rechner and you do, too.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
in response to the above email, my cousin told me about a friend of a friend of his in Portland that raises rabbits to eat. he and my aunt have talked about the trend of urban farming. she says: "As much as I love home grown vegetables, I have no interest in doing that. I know all too well the work involved after growing up working in a garden. It is not romantic to me." and my momma: "Under the influence of the back to the earth movement of the 70’s ,I made my own yogurt and ricotta cheese." i remember this phase all too well. i was sent to montessori school with peanut butter and rice cake sandwiches and was not allowed to have the cereal i saw on commercials during saturday morning cartoons.
Rechner writes: Women are especially good at judging one another and ourselves. Food has always been the woman’s purview; the woman of the house has traditionally decided when and what to eat. And eat we must. Is your food delicious? Does it satisfy? To that we now add, is your food at all times optimally healthy for your family and for the planet? No pressure!
and under full disclosure, about 90% of my shopping is done at whole foods and trader joes. i try to buy locally-grown produce. my kids consume vast quantities of fruit and love edamame. they also consume vast amounts of sugar that i am sometimes okay and sometimes not okay with...even writing this disclosure is evidence of how immersed this food business is in my conscious. "look! i can write a snarky email about my kids drinking slushies at a farmer's market because i/we know they mostly eat organic and i am way better than all those mothers who buy their kids lunchables and diet cokes." yes, i am damn good at judging others and myself.
as A.G. jokingly said, "it's as if to be a fully evolved woman, i have to return to my European peasant roots." for me this would mean reverting back to my Southern Delta sharecropper roots.
Rechner said, "I fear the damage to a generation of women who are tending (and butchering) rabbits and chickens, and raising vegetable gardens (often along with children) has already been done...The rise of civilization was made possible in part by the division of labor, which in turn made art and literary production possible. If some people grew and procured food, others could spend time doing other things, among them writing and sculpting."
my time not spent tending to a garden or maintaining a compost is not spent painting or writing poetry. it is spent tending to my intellectual curiosity by devouring books and movies. it is spent maintaining the many meaningful friendships that are critical to my sanity and serenity.
the bulk of my time is spent trying to get my babies to eat ANYTHING on many days. to chew with their mouths closed and to use utensils properly while consuming SOMETHING for supper. to not bicker constantly. to try to teach them to be kind and considerate. hell, to not scream at each other or to demand another drink of water but to ask politely for one. better yet, to get it themselves. these are the things taking up most of my time these last few days before school starts. this weekend, however, a little time will certainly be devoted to what i'll be packing in Fella's lunch.
recently, i have been bashing a certain segment of martha-stewarty-hyper-local-hipstery-used-to-live-in-brooklyn-homemadebabyfood-to-homegrown-veggie-CSA-loving mothers.
every year, Esposo asks if we are going to do a CSA and i say the same thing. "doing the best i can to make meals the kids will eat. i am NOT cooking kale and beets. and you don't cook."
at a farmers market last saturday i requested Esposo to purchase tomatoes and corn -- both for kids. that's it. and also to please not pick up veggies that look good because i will not be making them. the irony of writing that we were at a farmers market is not lost....said market is across from my saturday AA meeting. lots of people with dogs. lots of beards. lots of $15 honey. my kids have been twice and both times got bright blue slushies.
last week Esposo brought home squash and zucchini from some asshole at work who has a garden. i did not cook it and asked him to stop bringing it home. a day later he brought home a GIGANTIC phallic zucchini. before i could throw out a WTF? he said it was left in his cubicle. we are talking the size veggie that wins a prize at a state fair. gave it to a neighbor.
i needed to read this...Why I Hate Food. A Polemic by Mary Rechner and you do, too.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
in response to the above email, my cousin told me about a friend of a friend of his in Portland that raises rabbits to eat. he and my aunt have talked about the trend of urban farming. she says: "As much as I love home grown vegetables, I have no interest in doing that. I know all too well the work involved after growing up working in a garden. It is not romantic to me." and my momma: "Under the influence of the back to the earth movement of the 70’s ,I made my own yogurt and ricotta cheese." i remember this phase all too well. i was sent to montessori school with peanut butter and rice cake sandwiches and was not allowed to have the cereal i saw on commercials during saturday morning cartoons.
Rechner writes: Women are especially good at judging one another and ourselves. Food has always been the woman’s purview; the woman of the house has traditionally decided when and what to eat. And eat we must. Is your food delicious? Does it satisfy? To that we now add, is your food at all times optimally healthy for your family and for the planet? No pressure!
and under full disclosure, about 90% of my shopping is done at whole foods and trader joes. i try to buy locally-grown produce. my kids consume vast quantities of fruit and love edamame. they also consume vast amounts of sugar that i am sometimes okay and sometimes not okay with...even writing this disclosure is evidence of how immersed this food business is in my conscious. "look! i can write a snarky email about my kids drinking slushies at a farmer's market because i/we know they mostly eat organic and i am way better than all those mothers who buy their kids lunchables and diet cokes." yes, i am damn good at judging others and myself.
as A.G. jokingly said, "it's as if to be a fully evolved woman, i have to return to my European peasant roots." for me this would mean reverting back to my Southern Delta sharecropper roots.
Rechner said, "I fear the damage to a generation of women who are tending (and butchering) rabbits and chickens, and raising vegetable gardens (often along with children) has already been done...The rise of civilization was made possible in part by the division of labor, which in turn made art and literary production possible. If some people grew and procured food, others could spend time doing other things, among them writing and sculpting."
my time not spent tending to a garden or maintaining a compost is not spent painting or writing poetry. it is spent tending to my intellectual curiosity by devouring books and movies. it is spent maintaining the many meaningful friendships that are critical to my sanity and serenity.
the bulk of my time is spent trying to get my babies to eat ANYTHING on many days. to chew with their mouths closed and to use utensils properly while consuming SOMETHING for supper. to not bicker constantly. to try to teach them to be kind and considerate. hell, to not scream at each other or to demand another drink of water but to ask politely for one. better yet, to get it themselves. these are the things taking up most of my time these last few days before school starts. this weekend, however, a little time will certainly be devoted to what i'll be packing in Fella's lunch.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Summer Simply Sucks
haven't written in a while. thought about pulling plug on blog. thought about writing a few times. been encouraged by a few people to write but was too mired in the day-to-day routine and survival mode that i haven't.
now that i am here, i don't really know where to start. maybe i should have posted when i hit the wall a few weeks ago. when i was overwhelmed, struggling and at my limit. in the middle of the meltdown.
the meltdown from....the end of summer, the fucking heat, the exhausted kids, exhausted me, the intense tantrums from the over-the-top defiant 4-year-old, the mother-in-law visit, the miserable-ass heat, the new wii mario bros-game- fixation from the 6 1/2-year-old, the marital fault-finding, the unbearable heat, and my underlying anxiety coming out as i-have-fucking-had-it anger.
but i didn't post then. i lost my shit. i asked for help. i cried in a meeting for the first time in almost 3-years of sobriety. i was honest. i got the hell out of my house for a nite away with a friend.
so here i am post-meltdown...able to breathe and feeling a little lighter. holding on to my sobriety not only because i owe it to myself and my babies but because it is the constant underlying all the craziness and the most important thing i can do to ensure i can handle all of the hard-ass mothering shit and also enjoy all of the bad-ass beautiful mothering shit.
and all of the shit will be happening whether or not there is some Vino to blur the sharp edges. being sober helps me have some gratitude, no matter how small, for all of it. being sober i know my feelings will change and pass and my perspective will, too.
so there is no new insight to be shared. no big decision to be made. no drastic move to make. just stay in the day. to remember that this very summer our kids have had two fabulous vacations, great summer camps and lots of fun with friends. to hang on because school is right around the corner. and to bask in the brief reprieve from the heat this weekend.
it's to continue to fantasize about making a mock bumper sticker of those annoying stick figure families people are sporting all over our town. it's to continue to get some pleasure from flipping off our children when they aren't looking because they made their 100th demand in less than five minutes. it's to continue to mock the 30-something hipsters -- especially the two bearded guys in a two-block radius sporting the same ironic captain hat at the same time on the same nite. it's to eat chocolate ice cream out of the half gallon container till Esposo kindly says "aren't you about done?". it's to commiserate with Esposo about all the things we HATE about summer.
it's to go back and forth about all the things we are worried about that our kids are saying and doing. all the things we are worried about that we are saying and doing. all the things we haven't done and need to do. and the things we have done and needed to do differently. but because of that constant underneath -- being sober. i am able to see all of this shit for what it is. we have made some progress in many ways and we continue to regress or behave as poorly as our children in others.
being sober, i am willing to see all of this and know that things will change. i am not adding Vino to the mix to try to lessen the hard stuff or enhance the good. being sober, i am willing to admit that i need to do better and willing to accept that sometimes we do the best and the worst we can. the one thing that will not change is my loathing of summer.
now that i am here, i don't really know where to start. maybe i should have posted when i hit the wall a few weeks ago. when i was overwhelmed, struggling and at my limit. in the middle of the meltdown.
the meltdown from....the end of summer, the fucking heat, the exhausted kids, exhausted me, the intense tantrums from the over-the-top defiant 4-year-old, the mother-in-law visit, the miserable-ass heat, the new wii mario bros-game- fixation from the 6 1/2-year-old, the marital fault-finding, the unbearable heat, and my underlying anxiety coming out as i-have-fucking-had-it anger.
but i didn't post then. i lost my shit. i asked for help. i cried in a meeting for the first time in almost 3-years of sobriety. i was honest. i got the hell out of my house for a nite away with a friend.
so here i am post-meltdown...able to breathe and feeling a little lighter. holding on to my sobriety not only because i owe it to myself and my babies but because it is the constant underlying all the craziness and the most important thing i can do to ensure i can handle all of the hard-ass mothering shit and also enjoy all of the bad-ass beautiful mothering shit.
and all of the shit will be happening whether or not there is some Vino to blur the sharp edges. being sober helps me have some gratitude, no matter how small, for all of it. being sober i know my feelings will change and pass and my perspective will, too.
so there is no new insight to be shared. no big decision to be made. no drastic move to make. just stay in the day. to remember that this very summer our kids have had two fabulous vacations, great summer camps and lots of fun with friends. to hang on because school is right around the corner. and to bask in the brief reprieve from the heat this weekend.
it's to continue to fantasize about making a mock bumper sticker of those annoying stick figure families people are sporting all over our town. it's to continue to get some pleasure from flipping off our children when they aren't looking because they made their 100th demand in less than five minutes. it's to continue to mock the 30-something hipsters -- especially the two bearded guys in a two-block radius sporting the same ironic captain hat at the same time on the same nite. it's to eat chocolate ice cream out of the half gallon container till Esposo kindly says "aren't you about done?". it's to commiserate with Esposo about all the things we HATE about summer.
it's to go back and forth about all the things we are worried about that our kids are saying and doing. all the things we are worried about that we are saying and doing. all the things we haven't done and need to do. and the things we have done and needed to do differently. but because of that constant underneath -- being sober. i am able to see all of this shit for what it is. we have made some progress in many ways and we continue to regress or behave as poorly as our children in others.
being sober, i am willing to see all of this and know that things will change. i am not adding Vino to the mix to try to lessen the hard stuff or enhance the good. being sober, i am willing to admit that i need to do better and willing to accept that sometimes we do the best and the worst we can. the one thing that will not change is my loathing of summer.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
This Mother's Day
lying in bed this Mother's Day while my people are away for the morning, thoughts of the women and mothers in my life flood through my mind and heart. these women are family and friends that shape who i am and help keep me sane, happy and afloat while muddling through my mothering and daily life.
Momma -- a strong, feminist, loving woman who did the best she could after getting knocked-up with me at 20. how terrifying and hard it must have been. our intimate relationship is the foundation for all others. her unconditional love enormous. the annoying cliche of "words can't express how i feel..." ring true. a therapist in my 20s pointed out that she is my soulmate. i love you, momma.
Aunt Deb -- brilliant, stylish and successful. my psuedo older sister (i'm an only child) and model for giving up a career to devote and create another type of success staying home with our children. early on in mommahood after telling her i horrible i felt after losing my patience with my kids, she said that we get another chance, many chances every single day. this lets me forgive myself and try again and again and again.
Tia -- the successful, funny and beautiful aunt whose home is my home away from home. her smile and generosity warming my heart and those of my kids. always ready with an anecdote from when i was a little girl or a family story to share. this part of my grandpa lives on in her and keeps the thread of storytelling alive in all of us.
Elizabeth -- my childhood friend who is a part of me. we never lived in the same city but grew up together. john hughes movies and liz are entertwined in my adolescent girlhood. and now my children call her son their cousin and we continue to grow up together.
Amanda -- wickedly funny and sharp. from eating indian food in my apartment in the east village to emailing each other about the insane, competitive, comical world of "other mothers" and parenthood. years ago she said something along the lines of "the advice in parenting books does not apply to our children." and how this rings so fucking true to this day and every day. so does "loving our children is a given, but loving motherhood isn't."
Libba -- we bonded over ridiculous jargon and corporate bullshit at dell computer in the mid-90s and now we bond over the over-the-top bullshit behavior of our boys. a judge-free zone to unload and uplift.
Jules/Rae/Ann -- my stylish, sophisticated friends who are not mothers but dear friends who remind me of who i was and who i still am despite the momma vortex i live in most moments. they keep me laughing and looking good because in their eyes i am not defined by my mothering skills or lack of said skills. the right shoes, paint color and nail polish do matter. and so do our honest, real conversations that i cherish.
Heidi -- my kind, "neighbor" mother who's in the trenches of mothering minutiae with me. our daily stream-of-consciousness phone chats covering the tedious snack choices and blonde shade we will color our hair to the psychic tendencies of our girls and aspirations of ourselves and our children in a ten-minute or two-hour conversation. the incessant talking over each other a comfort and understanding that we have to get it out or we'll go crazy.
Lindsey -- my first friend who didn't drink. and the one who patiently led me to sobriety by her example. my husband may have been recruited for a job in this city, but in my heart i know she was another reason we were meant to move here. her intellectual thirst and solid sense of humor a bond that helps me stay sober and sane.
Loretta -- my sponsor in recovery who offers grace, guidance and perspective to help me forgive myself and own my part so i can get out of my head and focus on what matters.
Stefanie -- my wonderful friend in Mexico who became an immediate amiga more than 10 years ago and who is an integral piece in my sobriety since we both gave up drinking. my heart smiles every time i see her name in my inbox.
Grandma -- the gentle, southern woman who raised five kids, had a career and cooked better than anyone on the planet. her strength (and recipes) passed down to her children and grandchildren. she's been gone a year and i ache so much for her. i may be 41 and a mother of two but sometimes that just doesn't add up and i want my grandma to wrap me in her soft arms and sing to me.
and to my other mother friends who i didn't mention by name, thank you. thank you for not judging me and for venting to me and for your honesty. we are all doing the best we can. some days just suck and some days we kill it.
that's where being a momma is a lot like being sober. it really is one day at a time. some days are full of joy and laughter and other days are full of anxiety and anger. having conflicting feelings and thoughts do not mean anything other than just that. i can be irritated one afternoon surrounded by families drinking wine but do not have any desire to be drinking the wine. i can love my children with every ounce of my soul but also want to be far, far away from them at the very same time. these things co-exist and ebb and flow throughout every single day. riding these ups and downs is made possible by being honest and reaching out and asking for help. the same things that keep me from diving into a bottle of Malbec are the same things that help me be a better Momma and a better friend.
happy mother's day. i love you.
Momma -- a strong, feminist, loving woman who did the best she could after getting knocked-up with me at 20. how terrifying and hard it must have been. our intimate relationship is the foundation for all others. her unconditional love enormous. the annoying cliche of "words can't express how i feel..." ring true. a therapist in my 20s pointed out that she is my soulmate. i love you, momma.
Aunt Deb -- brilliant, stylish and successful. my psuedo older sister (i'm an only child) and model for giving up a career to devote and create another type of success staying home with our children. early on in mommahood after telling her i horrible i felt after losing my patience with my kids, she said that we get another chance, many chances every single day. this lets me forgive myself and try again and again and again.
Tia -- the successful, funny and beautiful aunt whose home is my home away from home. her smile and generosity warming my heart and those of my kids. always ready with an anecdote from when i was a little girl or a family story to share. this part of my grandpa lives on in her and keeps the thread of storytelling alive in all of us.
Elizabeth -- my childhood friend who is a part of me. we never lived in the same city but grew up together. john hughes movies and liz are entertwined in my adolescent girlhood. and now my children call her son their cousin and we continue to grow up together.
Amanda -- wickedly funny and sharp. from eating indian food in my apartment in the east village to emailing each other about the insane, competitive, comical world of "other mothers" and parenthood. years ago she said something along the lines of "the advice in parenting books does not apply to our children." and how this rings so fucking true to this day and every day. so does "loving our children is a given, but loving motherhood isn't."
Libba -- we bonded over ridiculous jargon and corporate bullshit at dell computer in the mid-90s and now we bond over the over-the-top bullshit behavior of our boys. a judge-free zone to unload and uplift.
Jules/Rae/Ann -- my stylish, sophisticated friends who are not mothers but dear friends who remind me of who i was and who i still am despite the momma vortex i live in most moments. they keep me laughing and looking good because in their eyes i am not defined by my mothering skills or lack of said skills. the right shoes, paint color and nail polish do matter. and so do our honest, real conversations that i cherish.
Heidi -- my kind, "neighbor" mother who's in the trenches of mothering minutiae with me. our daily stream-of-consciousness phone chats covering the tedious snack choices and blonde shade we will color our hair to the psychic tendencies of our girls and aspirations of ourselves and our children in a ten-minute or two-hour conversation. the incessant talking over each other a comfort and understanding that we have to get it out or we'll go crazy.
Lindsey -- my first friend who didn't drink. and the one who patiently led me to sobriety by her example. my husband may have been recruited for a job in this city, but in my heart i know she was another reason we were meant to move here. her intellectual thirst and solid sense of humor a bond that helps me stay sober and sane.
Loretta -- my sponsor in recovery who offers grace, guidance and perspective to help me forgive myself and own my part so i can get out of my head and focus on what matters.
Stefanie -- my wonderful friend in Mexico who became an immediate amiga more than 10 years ago and who is an integral piece in my sobriety since we both gave up drinking. my heart smiles every time i see her name in my inbox.
Grandma -- the gentle, southern woman who raised five kids, had a career and cooked better than anyone on the planet. her strength (and recipes) passed down to her children and grandchildren. she's been gone a year and i ache so much for her. i may be 41 and a mother of two but sometimes that just doesn't add up and i want my grandma to wrap me in her soft arms and sing to me.
and to my other mother friends who i didn't mention by name, thank you. thank you for not judging me and for venting to me and for your honesty. we are all doing the best we can. some days just suck and some days we kill it.
that's where being a momma is a lot like being sober. it really is one day at a time. some days are full of joy and laughter and other days are full of anxiety and anger. having conflicting feelings and thoughts do not mean anything other than just that. i can be irritated one afternoon surrounded by families drinking wine but do not have any desire to be drinking the wine. i can love my children with every ounce of my soul but also want to be far, far away from them at the very same time. these things co-exist and ebb and flow throughout every single day. riding these ups and downs is made possible by being honest and reaching out and asking for help. the same things that keep me from diving into a bottle of Malbec are the same things that help me be a better Momma and a better friend.
happy mother's day. i love you.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Family Vacation
been a while since i've written anything. on the eve of a spring break trip to the beach with kiddos, i am taking a moment to post rather than pack. i tend to focus my energy making lists and picking up the items and sorting the laundry in order to pack. and i focus my energy on these things since the actual packing is one of my least favorite things to do. by nature, i'm organized, a planner and over-analytical. thinking of how we are driving straight through on the way home in one week so really need to limit the items and streamline the packing to make packing up and heading home that much easier. picking up goodies at trader joes for drive and vacation since it will save us a few bucks and will make ride better, and i could go on and on.
this reminds me of all the things i did to try to get around quitting drinking. all the usual tricks and insane reasoning and justifications. like...i'll do a cleanse, exercise more, see a cognitive-behavioral therapist (who confirmed i was not an alcoholic), drink only on weekends, on and on. nothing unique to my situation or my insane thinking. i couldn't imagine a life without alcohol. especially a vacation. today i cannot imagine drinking again. i mean, i can imagine it, but it's not something i want to do or romanticize anymore.
two of my dear friends who i got sober with continue to relapse and are struggling. this last time one of them drank again and it hit me pretty hard. he kept saying that he knows what he needs to do, he just doesn't want to do it. that he is so angry. i told him how the first two years were so fucking hard and i was miserable a lot of the time. that i felt weak when i called my support group and sponsor and said i wanted to drink, i wanted to get a divorce, i wanted some relief, i was so agitated and angry. i no longer want to drink, i am still married and i am still agitated and angry and seek relief, but i am these things less of the time and with less intensity. even writing that it is so obvious how self-centered boozehounds are..i wanted, i wanted, i wanted.
it's the willingness that got me where i am today. it's the willingness that will help me grow in my sobriety and in my life. i have to stay close to my friends, to the program and keep taking action. because it sure as hell isn't my thinking that will do the trick.
i've written about exercising again which has been fantastic. even quit buying the chocolate-hazelnut bars or ice cream. can't keep it in the house or i will eat it ALL. rapidly. earlier this week, being the planner that i am, i bought a yummy trail mix and a treat for the road. big mistake. i ate one bag in 24 hours. last week i bought said-yummy-fancy chocolate bar to go with a meal i was making for neighbor who had baby. started obsessing about it being in the house and asked Esposo to split it with me. he declined so i had to go straight to bed because my bedroom is one floor higher than where the bar was lying in wait to be devoured in a matter of seconds. this is where my head gets me.
no big revelations here. just damn grateful i am sober for this spring break trip. it won't be like the trip 2 1/2 years ago when i was nearly 5 months sober. when seeing someone with a drink, i could almost feel the cool, crisp white wine going down my throat. i was brought to my knees with longing and grief for what i was missing. it won't be like the trips when i was drinking because i won't have a false sense of calm or exaggerated interest in my kids or husband because i have a nice buzz going.
this time, i'll just be myself and Momma. i will be fully present for my babies. without numbing the tedious parts and enhancing the exciting ones, i get to experience true joy (or sadness if that's the deal). i won't be longing for a drink or consumed with what i am missing. i will most certainly be agitated part of the time (or a shitload of time in the 10 hour drive). i will definitely want an escape (especially during the excruciating drive). i'll just be less selfish about how and when i get some relief.
this reminds me of all the things i did to try to get around quitting drinking. all the usual tricks and insane reasoning and justifications. like...i'll do a cleanse, exercise more, see a cognitive-behavioral therapist (who confirmed i was not an alcoholic), drink only on weekends, on and on. nothing unique to my situation or my insane thinking. i couldn't imagine a life without alcohol. especially a vacation. today i cannot imagine drinking again. i mean, i can imagine it, but it's not something i want to do or romanticize anymore.
two of my dear friends who i got sober with continue to relapse and are struggling. this last time one of them drank again and it hit me pretty hard. he kept saying that he knows what he needs to do, he just doesn't want to do it. that he is so angry. i told him how the first two years were so fucking hard and i was miserable a lot of the time. that i felt weak when i called my support group and sponsor and said i wanted to drink, i wanted to get a divorce, i wanted some relief, i was so agitated and angry. i no longer want to drink, i am still married and i am still agitated and angry and seek relief, but i am these things less of the time and with less intensity. even writing that it is so obvious how self-centered boozehounds are..i wanted, i wanted, i wanted.
it's the willingness that got me where i am today. it's the willingness that will help me grow in my sobriety and in my life. i have to stay close to my friends, to the program and keep taking action. because it sure as hell isn't my thinking that will do the trick.
i've written about exercising again which has been fantastic. even quit buying the chocolate-hazelnut bars or ice cream. can't keep it in the house or i will eat it ALL. rapidly. earlier this week, being the planner that i am, i bought a yummy trail mix and a treat for the road. big mistake. i ate one bag in 24 hours. last week i bought said-yummy-fancy chocolate bar to go with a meal i was making for neighbor who had baby. started obsessing about it being in the house and asked Esposo to split it with me. he declined so i had to go straight to bed because my bedroom is one floor higher than where the bar was lying in wait to be devoured in a matter of seconds. this is where my head gets me.
no big revelations here. just damn grateful i am sober for this spring break trip. it won't be like the trip 2 1/2 years ago when i was nearly 5 months sober. when seeing someone with a drink, i could almost feel the cool, crisp white wine going down my throat. i was brought to my knees with longing and grief for what i was missing. it won't be like the trips when i was drinking because i won't have a false sense of calm or exaggerated interest in my kids or husband because i have a nice buzz going.
this time, i'll just be myself and Momma. i will be fully present for my babies. without numbing the tedious parts and enhancing the exciting ones, i get to experience true joy (or sadness if that's the deal). i won't be longing for a drink or consumed with what i am missing. i will most certainly be agitated part of the time (or a shitload of time in the 10 hour drive). i will definitely want an escape (especially during the excruciating drive). i'll just be less selfish about how and when i get some relief.
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