the best and worst year at the same time.

i look back on 2014 and i can't believe it was only a single year.
it started less than ideal. my husband was out of state, i felt gross and bloated and couldn't find anything cute to wear. i went out with good friends, but i ended up closing the bar and being a total asshole. i would call a cab, forget, then not pick up the phone. repeat. i was every cab company's nightmare patron, next to just stiffing them with the bill. eventually i just got a ride, but the night ended angry and lonely, and the new year started hungover and embarrassed. who do i need to apologize to now? here we go again. this will never change.

i could easily go in to how awful everything became. the slow decline, month to month. but the thing is- there was a lot of good that sprung up from it. so, lets focus on that.
this is the year i learned how to start liking myself. like, truly like myself, not just act like it.
 it always used to hinge delicately on anyone's word- when i would receive a critique or a side comment, hear something through the grapevine, my day would be ruined. "you are not a good person" would loom over me like a storm cloud. i can't base my self worth on what the person who's only met me once thinks, or the disgruntled client in my chair. the person who i accidentally cut off merging on to 35W. it just is what it is.
i like myself enough finally to be alone. and not alone, laying on my couch watching netflix, glorping down chinese food, dripping soy sauce all over my shirt (ok, maybe that did happen), but having a nice dinner at a nice restaurant alone, without looking at my phone. going for a drive on a rainy day, blasting the album that only i seem to like (nightmare before christmas soundtrack). taking a relaxing soak. going to the mall alone and treating myself to a new top, because i had a good week. im finally starting to do those things.

im more appreciative.
i was reminded how amazing my family is. even though we get on each other's nerves, isn't that just how it works? my parent's helped me get in to the treatment center (those places are expensive, holy shit). they brought me books and snacks. went to family meetings on how they could help me for when i got out. answering the phone after i've called a million times because my memory is shot, or listening to me vent over and over, advice unwavering.
my husband, who i need to constantly remind myself i deserve someone like him. he's the best man in the world, after all i've put him through. for better or for worse, til death do us part.
i have friends who make me laugh and cheer me on. listen to me when im having a bad day. friends who have known me since daycare and still like me anyways. this was also the year i realized facebook was ridiculous, and got rid of it. the only thing i miss is how easy it was to contact people, but then i remember there are things called phones and emails. life existed before it, and it does after it too.

im grateful for all the cool stuff i've been able to see in my life. this was the year i saw iceland, sweden, poland, england and ireland for the 1st time. i got to see my favorite band in chicago. i explored alaska, parts of it all by myself.
 i was drunk pretty much the entire time i was in europe, which breaks my heart. there are parts that i don't remember AT ALL. (ever look back on your phone the day after a crazy bar night and see pictures you forgot you took? yeah. try seeing pictures of yourself in front of fucking castles that you forgot you took). i was overwhelmed in AK, taking it all in, unspoiled by my addiction. it was just so damn beautiful. im excited to have those feelings again, for the places i'll visit in the future.

the biggest positive is me finding my sobriety. my strength. working through my issues as they come, and doing it in front of everyone, be it online or in a group. saying who you are, what you are and what you've done over and over, it never makes it easy but it works. it forces you to accept things.
i am not ashamed and i am not afraid of judgement.
none of us can cast the 1st stone.

1st sober new years in 14 years. im going to learn how to make sushi and fancy mocktails, then do. it. up! marathon a tv series (it's down to twin peaks or x-files) and go to bed early.
this is the year i learned how wonderful a night like that can be.

if you find yourself reading this, i wish you a happy new year. remember, it's whatever you want it to be.

"hey Rhonda, don't offer seat 4A any alcohol"

i flew to Alaska last night. almost a 6 hour flight in 1st class, which im so grateful to have had that luxury, but... it was really hard. not going to lie.

as i stated prior, i haven't flown sober in over a decade. 107 days under my belt- air travel challenge accepted. it didn't break me, but it sure fucking tried.

flying sober? let me sing you the song of my people.

i also had the weekend from hell as i alluded to in my 1st entry, horribly downplayed, and it started to creep in to my week like a shit splatter. i need to leave, this is perfect timing. im finally running away from something properly.

stress is a trigger, anxiety is a trigger. anger is a trigger. airports are a trigger. flying is a trigger. free alcohol is the king and queen of all triggers, talk about my brain exploding.

1st flight as a recently sober person, around FREE ALCOHOL.
it's like you trained your entire life to play Carnegie Hall, and the opportunity is finally presented the day after your arms were amputated. i missed my chance. i missed my chance. is this a cruel joke? why is this happening to me? i want to start over. my previous life flashing before my eyes. it's so unfair.

if you don't understand any part of that paragraph,just get out now.

i get checked in, make it through security with my knitting needles and tiny scissors still in my possession, and i note how thus far no one has believed i could possibly be a 1st class passenger. this ticket must be fake. let the woman with the gucci glasses past while we scrutinize this fake. she has tattoos and metal in her face, this just doesn't happen. it must be fake. i make note to file a formal complaint, because i do things like that now.
anger is a trigger.

i find my gate immediately so i can judge how much time i have to distract myself before i board. 1.5 hours. there was a minibar right in front of gate 22.
anxiety is a trigger. airports are a trigger.

i walked ran to the restaurant i always go to pre-flight for a glass of wine, but this time for tea. that in retrospect could have been dumb, but it felt safe. i needed some kind of routine.
the bartender has always remembered me, by name, even though he sees more faces than most. i could never figure out if that was a good or bad thing. perhaps it's because i tip him well, or maybe because it was never just one glass of wine and my lips turned loose.
 he always remembered me,
even when i didn't sit at the bar, he'd come over to say hi. bring me another glass as a courtesy so i didn't have to ask. sometimes a shot of sambuca if my face looked tense. he knew who i was. what i was.
 this time he didn't say hi.
that's ok, i don't recognize myself sometimes either, joe.
i hope he is well, i didn't dare go near that bar to ask.
i grew nervous, because it wasn't as comfortable as i thought it would be. i ditched the tea, and felt like everyone was watching me walk away. "is she alright? something must be wrong."
i went to a chain coffee spot, because those are safe. they just want you to add a flavor or some whipped cream, buy little candies, 2 for $8. they don't sell you booze. none of that's there.

deep breath.

begin to board the plane, and tap the outside 3 times for good luck like you always do.
i asked a stewardess to tell whoever would be serving 1st class that i was a recovering alcoholic, and to please not offer me any alcohol. don't tell me it's free. don't tell me it's an option. help me forget this is even a thing.
she patted me on the back, and said "good for you! how many days?" "107", i said, almost to the entire cabin, almost sternly. this number is an absolute, everyone. don't mess with me. i see my request being passed on, hushed. my valuable information.
 "hey rhonda, don't offer seat 4A any alcohol." i watched her nod, and look up. we make eye contact and she smiles at me knowingly. thank you, rhonda.

1st class is nice, it's roomy, and they give you little bottles of water and hot towels. your drinks come in real glasses and they check in with you constantly.
 the man next to me reminds me of my dad, and we talk about usb chargers, and the pros and cons of certain phones. he's an android guy, im an ios lover. sharks vs jets.

just because i can't drink, doesn't mean everyone else around me has to stop too. i've had the privledge of controlling my surroundings, but at 30,000 feet you are stuck with the reality that's not how life works.

stress is a trigger. anxiety is a trigger. flying is a trigger. free alcohol is king and queen. my arms are amputated.

my dad facsimile likes gin and tonics. he has 9 of those. he also likes red wine. he has 3 of those. im going to keep track for you, dad. im going to watch you like a hawk. my senses are sharp and i can hear dad's ice clink ever so delicately. i can hear rhonda cracking open a new bottle in the galley. im too aware of my surroundings. i brought knitting to distract myself, but i can't count rows right now, only bottles opening, sips and the number of bathroom breaks taken. people's voices growing louder. cause and effect.

you can monitor the flight time and track your location on the screen in front of you. somewhere around the 5th hour, straddling the Alaska/Canada border, a switch flips, and i go into survival mode.
 i stop focusing on the sweat dripping down the real drinking glasses they give you, and i stop watching the levels of each alcohol bottle tended by rhonda. the smells are gross and the sights are sad. 6 hour friends at a party they were forced to have.

i will get to my destination, and i won't feel like shit. i'll see my husband, kiss him passionately, and mean every ounce of it. remember it with every fiber of my being. we'll go out to eat, and i'll taste the food, and laugh at our conversations whole-heartedly. i'll be able to wake up early and explore a place i've never seen, without the sunlight making me want to vomit, or have the wind throw me off balance.
i get off the plane and i find my way to get my bags.
my 1st sober flight in 14 years.

stress is a trigger. airports are a trigger. anxiety is a trigger. free alcohol my king and my queen.

i get into the car and we drive away from it all.

Et in Arcadia ego

 it's rainy and gross outside tonight. and depressing.
 it makes me smile, actually, because it's just so fitting for the mood i find myself in. when people say they can feel the rain in their bones, the rain just makes me feel like i've lived too many lives. dramatic but descriptive.
im feeling weary and worn. im remembering things that may have happened. at some point, somewhere. maybe to me? good or bad. it's hard to pinpoint exactly. or maybe it isn't since im feeling it. sigh.

i wrapped some presents and did an awful job, but justified it with the fact it's just going to get ripped apart in a little over a week, and put them under the tree i decorated while muttering hatefully under my breath. i hate christmas. this is such a pain in the ass. why can't there be booze in my soynog? oh, that's right.
 anything to distract myself. something to help make me feel how i think i should be. wait- how i want to be? what i should be right now. something.
 i started up a 2nd round of kombucha, which i think is delicious now, but 4 years ago i tried to mix it with vodka at a music festival. it didn't go so well, and as a public service i'll just tell you it's a terrible idea. i convinced myself that it was the kombucha's fault.
 i had a lovely conversation with my husband on the phone, looking back 7 years ago i was heartbroken by a boy who didn't treat me right, but i loved him anyways. i screamed "i'll never get married!!!! fuck love!" from the rooftops drunkenly.i remember this only because i got in trouble with the cops.

later this week im going to Alaska for a few days. im practically bursting at the seams to see something new, even though it was just recently i decided AK sounded like a neat place to visit.

since i've been with my husband, i travel by plane on average 8+ times per year. in the past 14 years i've only been on a plane sober ~4 times.

life changes become more apparent after you've made a major one and have commited to it. the longest i've held a sobriety prior to this was 89 days. every single one of those days, i woke up crying but didn't tell a soul. i would put makeup on my face and force myself to smile, because that's what sober people do, right? they smile? they're like, all happy and shit?  it was my new lie, but at least this one looked nicer than the other ones.
 on the 90th day i celebrated with whiskey drinks and laughed because of course i couldn't make it a full 90. not me. i did a really good job though, and earned all 10 of those drinks. and the wine i was going to give someone as a gift. and the forgotten bottle of gin in the back of the freezer.
 the hangover reminded me i really wasn't so special after all.

i feel like im going through puberty again. i don't understand my body. a bravado to mask this insecurity, which is becoming fleeting, thank god. im forgetful and clumsy. i cry too much. i leave burners on and talk out of turn. social cues are hard.
i can't even remember what gifts i got everyone now that they're wrapped. no idea.
i've kept all of my journals since middle school. i stopped writing over 5 years ago, and i don't know why.
wait, yes i do.
.....i think i do.
wait.
maybe the point was to not remember.

and now a momento mori from myself. 11 years ago effective 1/1/15.

"i realized, days ago actually, that even though i hate life in the throws of depression, and love every second of it in the embrace of my mania, it is indeed this unstable state of my being that i have learned to depend on, and love. there are things out there that are good, and beautiful and pure. i am reminded of this daily by the things and people i choose to surround myself with. stay thankful, and understanding. things will be ok, katy. you'll see"

was this written for me now? do i still mean this? did i ever? why did i randomly pick up this journal yesterday and have this page fall to my feet?

my blur.
my memories.
my past lives, living inside of my bones.

what are you waiting for

i set up this blog about a month ago, but found myself almost ashamed to write. im not embarrassed by my recent struggles. if anything, it's quite the opposite. i'm practically walking up to strangers and dancing with them, because me being sober (currently at 103 days) is nothing short of miraculous.
 i felt like i wasn't going to say anything new. but now....it's saying something new for me. i'm getting better, i can feel it. im forgiving myself. this doesn't seem impossible. im hopeful.

and some people hate that.


i was warned when i 1st delved in to this process, ready and willing, sick of being sick, that people would react in strange ways. i didn't even bat an eye at the idea of my inner circle changing, but little did i know it would do just that. for all these years i've confided in a person who can't wait for me to fail. a person so obviously wounded by my triumphs that they can't be happy for me. a person who looked me directly in the eyes as i was near tears, wanting a vodka soda SO bad because it was a snowy day (to the alcoholic brain, that is a totally justifiable reason), and flatly said "i have no empathy for you. none".

and so, after multiple therapy sessions and doing some deep self reflection , i realized i need to cut the cord. and today i did. and it totally sucked.

why do the most awful things happen when you are in such a vulnerable position? the last thing someone needs when they are figuring out the "new" version of themselves is criticism, isn't this one of the very reasons why we use? anyone who makes it a point to get help deserves respect, but the ones who can navigate this minefield are an inspiration. you can do this. i will get through this. 

i feel lighter. i feel anxious from putting my foot down. i feel disappointed. i feel free. i feel frustrated. i hate that this had to happen. but, the operative words are : it had to happen.  these actions do not negate all that we had together, only my progress. now i need to just repeat that in my brain over and over and over and...

i had to start this tonight. and i think, in the event of such a pivotal change, it has now sparked my need to write. this was meant to be, it just wasn't the right timing.