Month: August 2013
It is easy to list all of the things I fear or all my shortcomings. Maybe I need to do what I always tell others to do, focus on what is right instead of what is wrong.
1. 42 days sober is pretty fucking awesome.
2. I remember almost every detail of the episodes of Dexter, True Blood and series 4 of Dr. Who that I have watched over the last month.
3. Last week I went on two long walks (with a wee bit of jogging thrown in), did three yoga sessions (one actual class) and attended 2 AA meetings (mooring lines).
4. I have been meditating regularly.
5. I have half of a hat and 1/4 of a throw knitted.
6. I have been eating better than I have in years.
7. I have read several wonderful soul affirming books and several trashy romances this summer.
8. The house is in passable condition.
9. My dogs really love me.
10. My kids know I love them.
I have had a lot of thoughts kicking around in the old head the past few days. This past weekend was significantly better than the last. I am calmer, more reflective and I seem to have lost the inclination that I could, at any moment, crawl directly out of my skin. Signs of progress, perhaps.
Last night, before bed, I read half of Unwasted: My Lush Sobriety. I read before bed, like a normal person. I have been reading at night all summer (mostly because I can’t fucking sleep), but last night it really hit me: this new life I have. I feel like I am settling in. The edges aren’t quite as sharp. The sounds are not quite so brash and vulgar.
Now, not everything is magically wonderful. I still hate doing laundry and will put off paying bills until the cows come home. I am still loud and temperamental. I still yell at my kids too much. I still spend way to much time dicking around on my laptop. But many things are better. When I laugh, I actually feel it. It actually startles me sometimes, this strange rattle in my chest. It is a different laugh. Or perhaps, I just haven’t noticed it before. I feel better. I feel more whole? My daughter flipped on the lights this morning while I was attempting to wake up (thanks, baby) and she looked into my eyes and said, “Momma, your eyes! They’re beautiful!” She said this as if she had never seen eyes before, but I when I think about what my eyes looked like in the morning (cloudy, red, miserable) just a month and almost a half ago, I see where she might be coming from.
Here is what terrifies me of late: I have managed to construct a lovely little bubble around my sobriety because it is summer and I am a teacher. School. Starts. In. Two. And. One. Half. Fucking. Weeks. Shit! I am no where near prepared, lesson wise and I an feel shakily prepared emotionally and spiritually. The roller coaster routine of school and work and the stress of teaching are HUGE triggers for me. As I have written about in the past, I began to suck at aspects of my job near the end of my drinking and I am expected to kick it into high gear this year. I have a stack of books I was supposed to read over the summer to bolster my classroom management of which I have read about 3 pages total. It all feels very unforgiving. But people do this, right? They quit drinking and go right back to work. They succeed, right? People do this. All the time. What makes me so fucking special? I have been given a gift these past months and I sincerely hope I don’t fuck it all up.