This is why we go to therapy, people!

This is why we go to therapy, people. I was processing both mine and the hottie's up coming trips with the therapist, mapping out plans, figuring out how to minimize the natural stresses of international travel, starting a new semester, having your love be gone for 10 days, ect. The usual. When upon me came a realization.

I used to hide in my house. Day in and day out. I would wake up around 11am or noon, head straight to the kitchen for the booze, drink, vomit, drink, repeat. I kept the shades drawn. I never ate. I abhorred the sun. Cheerful people made me mad but that didn't matter because the only ones that I hung out with were TV characters. I maintained a bottle in one hand and a TV remote in the other... for hours and hours and days and days. And through processing with one of my two therapists (remember the switch therapist debacle upon starting KU?) I have discovered how far I have come!

I have been down lately. I have had a tough semester. I know I am not alone. There must be thousands of kids in this glorious historic Kansas town that have had tough semesters, cried daily, and pushed through. I get to be one of those kids today. Even when I am depressed, the first thing I do in the morning is open the shades and let the sun in. I set my coffee pot the night before when I want coffee in the morning! What the what? When I was at my worst in my addiction knowing that I would wake up shaking because I would have already started the detox process, it was still hard to remember or have the ability to make sure that I had alcohol for the morning! The constant double edginess of that sword! Now I make coffee the night before! I eat breakfast every day. Breakfast! The idea of food in the morning used to make me laugh. I functioned with a concave feeling in my stomach. Now I eat breakfast every day. Healthy breakfast. I pack my lunch every day. I eat a crap ton of fruit and veggies! I watch my weight and intake of calories. I like to eat and I like food, so I watch what goes into my body so that I can continue to eat and love food without guilt. I have lost 20 pounds since Costa Rica and I do not intend to put it back. I even exercise!

Last time I was in Ellsworth, my sister and her hubby went running every morning. I was wicked jealous. Do you know what? When I was in Ellsworth this past weekend, I got up before anyone in the entire house and went running. In the winter. On my own. Of my own free will! I was sore for the next three days because I am used to running shorter distances on a treadmill, haha, but I got up and did it. I did it! For me!

Even when I am depressed and not wanting to leave the house, I do it. I suit up and show up to every class. I have only missed like 6 total class sessions in all four of my classes this semester. I am still rocking C's and nailing down my calculus F, but not because I didn't suit and show. Then somehow when I get home and all I want to do is flop onto the couch or crawl in bed, I unpack my lunch, usually wash dishes and MAKE DINNER. What in god's name? Even on days when I don't get off the couch (there have been a few), I don't even think about adding alcohol to the mix. I make a pot of coffee to sip on throughout the day turning it back on every two hours after the automatic timer shuts it off. My unhealthy behavior today is sucking on caffeine all day versus water or fruit juice. I make treats like cake or rice crispy treats for myself. I will write, harass people on the facebook, and yes, zone into the TV. Sometimes when I feel like flopping on the couch I turn on the computer and write for hours!

But here is the awesome part and thank you to therapy. While I have been processing these recent difficulties and my fears about mine and the hottie's upcoming vacations because I want to get past this relapse hump circle pattern thing, I have gotten to see how far I have come. I used to be bound to the couch, day after day. Today, even when I give into the couch sitting, a habit that is very close to past addictive habits, I have come forward leaps and bounds. I make food. I drink coffee and soda. I care for myself, the hottie, our home, the pets, and our lives. Shit is hard. It gets overwhelming. But I don't make it worse. I batten down the hatched and ride in the storm.

I don't say any of this to brag. I have a ways to go. Today. Tomorrow. And so on. The more I write, the scarier it feels. I have huge fears about how my work comes across. Like so many things, though, I just keep doing; writing, walking, suiting and showing, and hoping for the best, or the ability to understand the less than the best. Honesty, open-mindedness, and willingness. That is the HOW of it.

Reflections on my second sober semester (Another one written winter 2013, but published winter 2014)

Authors note: This was written during my second semester at JCCC winter 2013 but published one year later during my first winter semester at KU 2014. Interesting contrast.

This second sober semester was harder than the first. Let's see, aesthetics. I took one more class. I switched to trying a Tuesday Thursday schedule. I took an 8 am class. It was in the winter. The winter semester was harder than the fall. I relapsed several times. I missed a few classes at the beginning of the semester because of our El Salvador trip. There was a spring break in there. I was working on the application process for Costa Rica for a good portion of the semester. And last but definitely not least, I have been working on transferring to KU.

All in all, it was a good semester. I am pleased with how school has been going for me. I really like learning and I wish that I had realized my super nerdy potential a bit earlier. It was hard being in another town at 8 am, even if it was only twice a week. I got up at 5 am to be on the bus at 640 to be at school by 730 for class at 8. For part of the semester, it was dark when I left and dark when I came home. The bus rides got old. I am really grateful to be headed to school in the same town I live in next fall. I have still not gotten over the fact that my drug addiction brought me to the one town in Kansas that I had always wanted to live in but thought I could never afford. I don't know if that gratitude will ever dissipate.

The measuring stick

I had the privileged of visiting the place that seems to present itself as one of my measuring sticks for my recovery and my progress in life.

My personal progress.
The stuff that comes from the inside out.

It's the place I grew up in the summers.
My free place.
My vacation spot.
The spot I could relax in when I was growing up in a busy loud house.
The place I listened to Melissa Etheridge as an angsty teen.
The place I tried to discover boys.
The place I discovered girls.
The place I got to be alone.
And request my favorite meals.
The place I found depression.
The place I first hid my drinking.
The place I cut.
The place I was always loved. Always always always.
The place I never felt outside anger.
The place where the stars where stars danced and the air smelled different.
And the grass felt different while laying while star gazing.
I could go on.

This measuring stick place.
It's the place where I can tell when I have grown up a little more.
It's the place where I can see how my capacity for love has grown.
Where comparisons don't matter.
It's the place where, when I talk about what I am doing, I can tell how authentic it is.
I can tell how I truly feel about what I am saying when it is shared there.
It's the place where I get to check in with myself to see how real I am.

And guess what? I was thrilled with this visit's result.
This is big and it's gonna be fun.

A little peak inside a broken brain (written around Christmas 2013, published March 2014)

Author's note: This was written around Christmas 2013 at the end of the business school "semester from hell" before switching majors. My situation has changed but the words of an alcoholic still ring true. It's this easy to slip back into an old way of thinking.

This thought occurred to me today. I had just finished taking care of a monthly commitment and headed to Walmart. It's the weekend before finals week. It's a week and a half before Christmas. And this thought occurs to me: wouldn't it be nice if I didn't have all this stuff to do like study for finals so I could drink tonight? Followed by, dang, I wish I could drink the whole weekend. As a matter of fact, it would be really great if I didn't have to be at Walmart buying deodorant and trying to figure out what toothpaste to buy. As a matter of fact, since it is so late in the season and we have no Christmas tree yet let's just skip the shit. In fact, she drives me crazy half the damn time. Am I even sure this is where I want to be? School and work is proving to be so difficult. I hate trying to make money mostly because I am not making much and working more seems like a great way to screw myself out of a top notch education so I really hate spending any money as it is so hard to make. I know I am not contributing to the house, but if I work more I don't think I will do well in school. But who cares about grades. All you need is the degree, right? In fact a lot of people will tell you that the degree doesn't even matter. Just pick one! Work more, study less, coast and get through it. You are letting your beautiful person down anyway. So since you can't work and go to school, maybe you aren't good enough. There are so many people that can work and go to school. Work full time and take, what, up to seven classes! You probably aren't good enough for her anyway. And you surely don't deserve this education that you can't even manage to do while not contributing enough and getting crappy grades, so you should probably just pick one, school or work. And since you are not good enough for her, the best way out of this is to push her away. And push hard. Better set up some kind of living arrangement before you get too far, ahhh fuck it. Drink! Wouldn't it be great if you didn't have all this shit to do so you could just drink the rest of the weekend?