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The Journey To Where I am Now
July 2004
July 2004
Over two and a half years ago, I started my journey into a new life.
The beginning was the easiest leg of my journey. Results were tangible. Everyday I didn't drink, I was one step ahead of my life for the previous fifteen years. I went through physical changes; losing weight, my body detoxing, and patterns in my sleep changed significantly. The first few months I was able to see that my choice was a good one. Not drinking was the ONLY road I traveled on at that point.
After a few months, drinking was no longer the focus of my journey. The reality of my journey began to set in. I started walking through the weeds and bumbles of my life. I felt uprooted. Pieces of my past sprouted up along the way. I had to hack at them with all my strength to continue walking down the path I wanted to create. I was learning how to be sober.
Being sober entails a bit more than not drinking. It means changing all things that are comfortable. It means leaving people who are harmful. Leaving old behaviours for new ones. Being sober means that you have left one life and began a new one. And at times, this decision that I had made weighed heavily on my heart. Did I really want this life? Did I really want the stigma I thought was attached to being sober? I wrestled with my decisions every day of my life. Every step I made in one direction meant I was leaving a familiar place.
And the grieving began. I mourned the loss of my old life. I was waving goodbye to all those esoteric things that I had known for so long. Visions of my life before flooded my dreams. I was anxious. Guilty. Angry. But I muddled through this tulmultous part of the journey. I missed my old self. Missed the drama and dysfunction that I had deeply rooted myself in. But, somehow, I just kept moving forward until my pathway was free of past weeds. Suddenly, after a long period of mourning, I was walking with a lighter step.
After my first year, I started the next leg of my journey. Sobriety was easier. Not drinking was no longer an issue. Finding out who I was became the task. In doing this, I have walked down several paths. I have tested some directions that were unsucessful. I used my art to help my find out what needed working on. I wrote and wrote until I was blue in the face. I read every book I could get my hands on. I diligently went to therapy. I asked questions. I was introspective. I looked for my spirituality. I posted. I chatted. All these things to find out who that person I had hidden away really was.
And for some reason, I hit a major roadblock. No longer was sobriety the focus on my life. I was just Kim. And that scared me so much, I almost faltered. I thought about sabatoging the work that I had done so I wouldn't find out who I was. I was petrified to peel the layers of my life. I had dreams that I was drinking again. I had thoughts of drinking all day and night. Anything, ANYTHING to keep myself from really knowing who I was. I did not believe I deserved the life I was living. It was a very painful leg of my journey. But, in the end, some strength inside of me took over. I never stepped off the path. I kept going in spite of the immense fear I felt.
And that brings me to now. Today, it's a slightly different story. I am on the journey to discover myself in the most pure and real form. I look forward to who I am and where I am meant to be. I live life with so much passion, I am exhausted at the end of the day. I kiss my nieces and nephews. I smile at the Gas Station guy. I no longer feel the need to escape myself and the choices I have made. Every choice I make is grounded in my new life. Believe me, I struggle still. But, it's such a real struggle that it feels so good when it's resolved with a clear mind and spirit. I am on the path to reformulating those things that are most important to me. I am walking towards the life I want. And my sneakers bear the brand of sobriety.
So, my journey may or may not be like yours. You maybe on Day one or Day one thousand. Everyday, it's a new path. New steps. And it's amazing to be able to say that we are able to see the changes and growth. We are fully aware, at every stage of this journey, that we are competent, capable, compassionate, and caring women.
The beginning was the easiest leg of my journey. Results were tangible. Everyday I didn't drink, I was one step ahead of my life for the previous fifteen years. I went through physical changes; losing weight, my body detoxing, and patterns in my sleep changed significantly. The first few months I was able to see that my choice was a good one. Not drinking was the ONLY road I traveled on at that point.
After a few months, drinking was no longer the focus of my journey. The reality of my journey began to set in. I started walking through the weeds and bumbles of my life. I felt uprooted. Pieces of my past sprouted up along the way. I had to hack at them with all my strength to continue walking down the path I wanted to create. I was learning how to be sober.
Being sober entails a bit more than not drinking. It means changing all things that are comfortable. It means leaving people who are harmful. Leaving old behaviours for new ones. Being sober means that you have left one life and began a new one. And at times, this decision that I had made weighed heavily on my heart. Did I really want this life? Did I really want the stigma I thought was attached to being sober? I wrestled with my decisions every day of my life. Every step I made in one direction meant I was leaving a familiar place.
And the grieving began. I mourned the loss of my old life. I was waving goodbye to all those esoteric things that I had known for so long. Visions of my life before flooded my dreams. I was anxious. Guilty. Angry. But I muddled through this tulmultous part of the journey. I missed my old self. Missed the drama and dysfunction that I had deeply rooted myself in. But, somehow, I just kept moving forward until my pathway was free of past weeds. Suddenly, after a long period of mourning, I was walking with a lighter step.
After my first year, I started the next leg of my journey. Sobriety was easier. Not drinking was no longer an issue. Finding out who I was became the task. In doing this, I have walked down several paths. I have tested some directions that were unsucessful. I used my art to help my find out what needed working on. I wrote and wrote until I was blue in the face. I read every book I could get my hands on. I diligently went to therapy. I asked questions. I was introspective. I looked for my spirituality. I posted. I chatted. All these things to find out who that person I had hidden away really was.
And for some reason, I hit a major roadblock. No longer was sobriety the focus on my life. I was just Kim. And that scared me so much, I almost faltered. I thought about sabatoging the work that I had done so I wouldn't find out who I was. I was petrified to peel the layers of my life. I had dreams that I was drinking again. I had thoughts of drinking all day and night. Anything, ANYTHING to keep myself from really knowing who I was. I did not believe I deserved the life I was living. It was a very painful leg of my journey. But, in the end, some strength inside of me took over. I never stepped off the path. I kept going in spite of the immense fear I felt.
And that brings me to now. Today, it's a slightly different story. I am on the journey to discover myself in the most pure and real form. I look forward to who I am and where I am meant to be. I live life with so much passion, I am exhausted at the end of the day. I kiss my nieces and nephews. I smile at the Gas Station guy. I no longer feel the need to escape myself and the choices I have made. Every choice I make is grounded in my new life. Believe me, I struggle still. But, it's such a real struggle that it feels so good when it's resolved with a clear mind and spirit. I am on the path to reformulating those things that are most important to me. I am walking towards the life I want. And my sneakers bear the brand of sobriety.
So, my journey may or may not be like yours. You maybe on Day one or Day one thousand. Everyday, it's a new path. New steps. And it's amazing to be able to say that we are able to see the changes and growth. We are fully aware, at every stage of this journey, that we are competent, capable, compassionate, and caring women.
Greetings from the Bottom
Kim Park
April 2004
My entire life has been a cycle of wanting to live with vengeance and needing to numb the constant pain I feel. Pain that I found unbearable. Numbing entailed irresponsibility. Denial. Aloofness. Any way to keep myself from feeling fledging terror and anger has been my modus operandi. The hurt. The pain. All these things exist in depression. So, I began the arduous task of researching the label for this pain I have been feeling since I can remember:
Adversity, anguish, calamity, cross, crux, difficulty, disease, disorder, distress, grief, hardship, illness, infirmity, misery, misfortune, ordeal, pain, plague, plight, scourge, sickness, sorrow, suffering, torment, trial, tribulation, trouble, woe
It is astounding that all of the aforementioned synonyms can be applied to an emotional process. Some of you think of it as drama. I think of it as my daily existence. I cannot distinguish between what is truly detrimental and what simply exists as life. I cannot express my anger and rage towards the people who cause it. Instead, I have turned inward. What you see when you are hurt is what I see each hour of my day. The sense of impending doom hinders my ability to live in a moment. I retreat. I create fantasies to ease my sense of reality.
And in doing this, my life illustratively becomes vast acreage. A pliable bit of earth in which I call home. I live on my expansive piece of proverbial property and see the many holes I have dug over the last thirty years. The holes I bury my emotions. The holes I bury the hatred and anger that I am afraid to set free. The hole I must dig to feel protected from my own enraging heart.
The holes in which I dig aren not unique. They are the same holes you may dig when you feel panic. Or grief. In your world, these are small concaves. The difference is that I live in these holes. I rarely find myself on the outside looking in. Instead, I am constantly on the inside looking out. Watching lives being led with true zeal for happiness. While I sit underneath life, enveloped in angst.
Three weeks ago I dug one of my holes so deep, I thought I might not make it out intact. I was in such conflicting darkness that my eyes could barely distinguish any light. When I dove in, I forgot to bring my tools. My flashlight. My shovel. I simply dug and dug with raw, aching fingers. And this is where I remained. Time passed so slowly, I was unable to calculate just how long I had been underground. Nothing sustained like the darkness I felt. I withdrew from reality and sat in a quiet numbness that only one suffering this affliction can feel. I mourned. I grieved. I panicked. Yet these feelings seemed to pass in front of me in those shadows. I was unable to feel anything but my own self-pity. My emotions so raw that I worried that I may bleed to death. I was a product of my own rigorous self-deprecation. Constantly berating myself for feeling so deeply.
My hand reached out. My raw, tormented fingers barely reached out of the hole. I found a sliver of light that was able to help me regain some awareness. Suddenly the darkness became scarier than the life that was waiting for me. I reached and reached. I was waiting for someone to grab my hand. And, someone did. He inadvertently put his hand out and I grabbed it. I used it to hoist me from deep within the confines of my misery. A tiny move upward saved me from burying myself completely. I was given the opportunity to start the climb back up from the bottom.
And this climb entails a considerable amount of recognition. Recognizing that this darkness is a disease within itself. That the feelings I possess are not simply figments of my overactive imagination. They are real and validated. What you feel is different than those feelings I have. I walk along life scared. Scared to feel. Scared to be hurt and rejected. I tread heavily on my property, searching the parameters for a way out. A path. An exit. You may or nay not live near me. You may have holes, but they are not similar to the deep depressions in life.
So, I say: Greetings from the bottom. Where I have begun to unearth those emotions that have been buried so long. I am no longer digging downward. I have begun the laborious task of filling in the holes that are no longer part of my present. I move dirt to make way for acknowledgement. I find that I am throwing seeds over to begin the new growth. I am extending my hand to those who will take it. I am the caretaker of my property.
The two years I have spent.
Kim Park
February, 2004
In the earliest days of my sobriety, life was black and white. When I did not drink, I was happy. Pounds of emotional weight came off my shoulders. Everything was evident, in clear view of my happiness. I knew that not drinking, that being sober, was the door I had opened.
I had yet, early on, to look down the hallway of my life. I was so focused on closing the door on my drinking life that I never realized that other doors existed. I look back and see my reflection from my first anniversary of being sober. I was just so happy to be a sober woman. That was my identity. When I did not drink, I was happy.
Other doors stood waiting to be opened. Others were waiting to be closed. No longer was I able to see things from a distance, I was now forced to walk inside. I suddenly needed to examine the voids and discrepancies that made up all the years before my sobriety. I had to learn to appreciate where I had been. Who made up this sober woman? I had to let go of everything I knew and plunge into all that is unknown. I had to learn about the woman beneath the skin. What inspired me? What hurt? Who was I?
And this scared me. I panicked quite frequently. I had angst over my decisions, my thoughts, and my emotion. Things were no longer complacent in the simplicity of black and white. The gray was beginning to reveal itself in my life and I was trying to learn not to slam the door upon its entrance. I was learning my own boundaries. Adding more and more shades of gray to my own emotional palette. Every choice and decision I made was purely based on the sense that I was trying to make of life. My life then. My life now. Lives that I could no longer separate. So many times, it was a screaming match between my old and new life. My heart, the mediator.
For a time, I wandered aimlessly down the hallway, missing the doors in front of me. The unsettling feeling of choosing between my old and new life came and went. Comfort in sobriety could ground me for brief moments in time. And many of the keys to my doors seemed to lie in the very essence of the choice I made some time ago.
Here I am, suddenly, my second year. I won the battle of becoming sober. Yet now, I relinquish the battle between black and white. I have neither won nor lost. I have simply taken a step back and choose to fight for the beliefs I have in my heart. I have chosen to let the battle go on without my heart on the front line. I've let go of the need for answers to every question within my soul. Some of the doors in my life will continue to remain closed. New ones will open. But, what has become the most important lesson is that I hold the key. Every door I choose is because my heart feels it is right. Every door I leave shut is my heart letting go. My heart, my sobriety is the key. And I carry it with me down the hallway of life.
Point of Reflection.
August 6th, 2003
Kim Park
Every few months, I sit down and reflect on my sobriety. I find this to be an essential part of my life. So, here I am. One year and six months. It comes to me in fragments this time. Perhaps because my life is so full of events, of feelings. Sobriety shows itself to me through intricate patterns in my continuing evolution.
I find that each day that I am sober, a day that I was drinking becomes a faded memory. I try and remember the woman I was when I drank and find I have a difficult time remembering. Who was she? Where did she go? Will she return? I sometimes miss her. I sometimes miss the ease in which I was able to live. Irresponsible. Obstinate. Angry. I was simply oblivious to the inner turmoil I had within myself.
I am a constant work in progress. I look inside myself each day and find an element that needs attention. I love with such wholeheartedness that I am drained by the end of the day. I share my life with others and no longer expect anything in return. And this work of mine, this life, is mine to create. I am not only an artist that uses a canvas, I use life. And in this, I find great joy.
And I find at this point in my life, I am looking for balance. How do I balance my needs? How do I maintain integrity within my heart? How do I share with others while making sure that I do not deplete the gifts I have worked so hard to wrap in my emotion?
I seem to be asking myself a great many esoteric questions these days. Ones that did not exist in my former life. And these questions make me feel alive with great inquisitiveness. I find myself in awe at the most cerebral moments. How did this happen to a woman that used to be so angry? So self engrossed in pity?
Through this process of self-discovery, I feel pain on a great number of occasions. I am looking for a place to settle down my heart. I am looking for peace and calmness in the storms that have finally passed. I am sorting out the layers that have peeled away leaving my core exposed. And in this core lies the pain of having such powerful emotion. A heart that overwhelms. A love that is only matched by my passion for life. I live with this as a curse and a blessing. And the pain is real. The feelings are real. And that makes me aware that I am truly present in my life.
And that is the point where I have come to. I am present in my life right now. I am here. I am giving my heart. I love with all the power in me. And I continue to evolve into the woman I was meant to be. The woman who runs freely in the rain.
previous month reflections.
Sixth Month.
This weekend I celebrate my 6th month of sobriety. Though it is the most amazing accomplishment of my 28 years, I look at it with a reflective eye. You have all been so amazing and looking through the board I see so many woman struggling in the earliest days. So, here is my reflection.
In the first hours I had made the commitment to stop drinking, I fought some horrific battles. My family had grown tired of my antics, my husband had long left, and even the grocery clerk seemed to look at me funny. I was forced to make the decision to become sober, alone---forced to battle only with myself. Those first few days were physically and emotionally the hardest in my life. I endlessly struggled between my old life and new prospective life and thought about excusing myself from the responsiblity of recovering. THAT, as we all know, would have been so much easier.
After the physical angsts began to wane, I realized I had made it almost two weeks. I had actually challenged myself to only stop for a short time. I soothed myself by saying that "maybe when I go on vacation, I can drink" or "maybe if I get out of this rut, I will be more responsible with it". But, the challenge grew. I challenged myself to make it one more day, one more week, and finally one more month. Up and down went my emotions. I fought with everyone. I could turn into a nasty, cranky woman at the drop of a hat. I cried...I screamed...I became so angry. Yet, I was doing this all sober. I was testing all these emotions that I had hidden behind alcohol for so long. And man, was it a roller coaster. One that I actually didn't want to get off.
In the beginning as well, I heard my therapist say that I might eventually not want to be in bars anymore. That I might actually find other things to do. Here I was thinking, "And she thinks I'm nuts?". Me? The social butterfly not be in a bar? Me, not go to wine tastings or sip pina coladas on the beach? Me, become one of THOSE annoying and terribly boring people who don't drink? Hmm, I didn't think that would be conducive to my place in the social hierarchy. Well, as I sit here six months later....I have to give her credit....she was right. My tolerance for bars has gone down to about ten minutes. My pina coladas on the beach...too paranoid to drink virgin ones, but what the hell. And my place on the social scale---couldn't tell you. But, I still have friends.
I can tell you, though, there is a peacefulness that comes with sobriety. I've had this person inside of me....this woman...who didn't know how to come out. Who was hiding so deep behind pain. Yet, she has started to become my friend. Annoying? She most certainly is (and I am convinced she is sometimes boring at times) Beautiful? Absolutely. It's becoming less of a struggle to be sober and more of a long courtship with myself.
In my darkest hour, I pulled strength from myself. Not my family, not my job or my friends. I had them there for support, but I had written the assignment. I became less dependent on other people for my happiness and started creating it. And that translates to happiness all over. My family has started listening to the words I've always had. My paintings reflect the artist that I knew I was. I even find myself humming silly songs that I never realized I knew. All those amazing attributes that I deserted for the sake of one more drink. And now, I battle the same battles---because the pain still exists....but, it's all so vibrant and real. And it's more learning than it is resisting. It hurts, but it goes away. And in it's place I am able to bring reason and enlightenment. Which in turn, brings a obscure happiness to my life.
To make a very long story seem less of an epic, we are all in this struggle together...some of us are on day one and some of us are years and years into sobriety. It's life altering....instead of looking at it as the first day you stop drinking....it is the first day that you are introduced to that beauty that hidden inside you. It's there. It's waiting to come out.
So, thank you all for helping inspire me along my journey. You are all beautiful women....and I hope that you can sit here and read this and remember why you are so strong. Why you have come to the board, gone to meetings, whatever. Why you have chosen to become sober. We all have reasons. And we all have this journey to embark on. And I look forward to continuing with all of you.
Eighth Month
Today I have been sober for eight months. For the last few days, I have been trying to find some inspiration...something profound to say about being sober for eight months.
In actuality, my sobriety has become quiet. It is no longer the center of my life, though my life is centered within it. The new life that I have worked so hard to build has begun to take over. No longer do I struggle to find "sober" things to do...they just happen. No longer does drama exist in frantic form....it has almost ceased. The need for alcohol happens every once in a while (and yes, it's still very difficult) but I have developed a method to overcome it. I let it hit me, let the feeling be present, and then I let it go.
And that's what it's all about. Letting go of the addiction and letting in the calmness. I sometimes feel that I used to be white water rafting through my life and now....I am sort-of paddling in a canoe. Much calmer but I am still able to enjoy the ride.
All the every day problems still exist and the life issue that I deal with...but, I have gained so much control over what happens to me...what I choose to let affect my life...that it's almost a grace. A daily gift.
So, for now, I am trying to write a new story that has a sober twist. I have an art show coming up that focuses on some of my paintings that I did when I battling the first few months. I am also trying to write a story that has nothing to do with alcohol. I have another show in December that I will put in paintings of a new series. I am shifting focus in my life while keeping my roots strong in sobriety. And that I have you all to thank. You are all my roots and you keep me very grounded in the decision that I made eight months ago.
So, thanks to you. It's a journey that I would have never imagined would be so...so, engaging...so real and profound in and of itself.
This weekend I celebrate my 6th month of sobriety. Though it is the most amazing accomplishment of my 28 years, I look at it with a reflective eye. You have all been so amazing and looking through the board I see so many woman struggling in the earliest days. So, here is my reflection.
In the first hours I had made the commitment to stop drinking, I fought some horrific battles. My family had grown tired of my antics, my husband had long left, and even the grocery clerk seemed to look at me funny. I was forced to make the decision to become sober, alone---forced to battle only with myself. Those first few days were physically and emotionally the hardest in my life. I endlessly struggled between my old life and new prospective life and thought about excusing myself from the responsiblity of recovering. THAT, as we all know, would have been so much easier.
After the physical angsts began to wane, I realized I had made it almost two weeks. I had actually challenged myself to only stop for a short time. I soothed myself by saying that "maybe when I go on vacation, I can drink" or "maybe if I get out of this rut, I will be more responsible with it". But, the challenge grew. I challenged myself to make it one more day, one more week, and finally one more month. Up and down went my emotions. I fought with everyone. I could turn into a nasty, cranky woman at the drop of a hat. I cried...I screamed...I became so angry. Yet, I was doing this all sober. I was testing all these emotions that I had hidden behind alcohol for so long. And man, was it a roller coaster. One that I actually didn't want to get off.
In the beginning as well, I heard my therapist say that I might eventually not want to be in bars anymore. That I might actually find other things to do. Here I was thinking, "And she thinks I'm nuts?". Me? The social butterfly not be in a bar? Me, not go to wine tastings or sip pina coladas on the beach? Me, become one of THOSE annoying and terribly boring people who don't drink? Hmm, I didn't think that would be conducive to my place in the social hierarchy. Well, as I sit here six months later....I have to give her credit....she was right. My tolerance for bars has gone down to about ten minutes. My pina coladas on the beach...too paranoid to drink virgin ones, but what the hell. And my place on the social scale---couldn't tell you. But, I still have friends.
I can tell you, though, there is a peacefulness that comes with sobriety. I've had this person inside of me....this woman...who didn't know how to come out. Who was hiding so deep behind pain. Yet, she has started to become my friend. Annoying? She most certainly is (and I am convinced she is sometimes boring at times) Beautiful? Absolutely. It's becoming less of a struggle to be sober and more of a long courtship with myself.
In my darkest hour, I pulled strength from myself. Not my family, not my job or my friends. I had them there for support, but I had written the assignment. I became less dependent on other people for my happiness and started creating it. And that translates to happiness all over. My family has started listening to the words I've always had. My paintings reflect the artist that I knew I was. I even find myself humming silly songs that I never realized I knew. All those amazing attributes that I deserted for the sake of one more drink. And now, I battle the same battles---because the pain still exists....but, it's all so vibrant and real. And it's more learning than it is resisting. It hurts, but it goes away. And in it's place I am able to bring reason and enlightenment. Which in turn, brings a obscure happiness to my life.
To make a very long story seem less of an epic, we are all in this struggle together...some of us are on day one and some of us are years and years into sobriety. It's life altering....instead of looking at it as the first day you stop drinking....it is the first day that you are introduced to that beauty that hidden inside you. It's there. It's waiting to come out.
So, thank you all for helping inspire me along my journey. You are all beautiful women....and I hope that you can sit here and read this and remember why you are so strong. Why you have come to the board, gone to meetings, whatever. Why you have chosen to become sober. We all have reasons. And we all have this journey to embark on. And I look forward to continuing with all of you.
Eighth Month
Today I have been sober for eight months. For the last few days, I have been trying to find some inspiration...something profound to say about being sober for eight months.
In actuality, my sobriety has become quiet. It is no longer the center of my life, though my life is centered within it. The new life that I have worked so hard to build has begun to take over. No longer do I struggle to find "sober" things to do...they just happen. No longer does drama exist in frantic form....it has almost ceased. The need for alcohol happens every once in a while (and yes, it's still very difficult) but I have developed a method to overcome it. I let it hit me, let the feeling be present, and then I let it go.
And that's what it's all about. Letting go of the addiction and letting in the calmness. I sometimes feel that I used to be white water rafting through my life and now....I am sort-of paddling in a canoe. Much calmer but I am still able to enjoy the ride.
All the every day problems still exist and the life issue that I deal with...but, I have gained so much control over what happens to me...what I choose to let affect my life...that it's almost a grace. A daily gift.
So, for now, I am trying to write a new story that has a sober twist. I have an art show coming up that focuses on some of my paintings that I did when I battling the first few months. I am also trying to write a story that has nothing to do with alcohol. I have another show in December that I will put in paintings of a new series. I am shifting focus in my life while keeping my roots strong in sobriety. And that I have you all to thank. You are all my roots and you keep me very grounded in the decision that I made eight months ago.
So, thanks to you. It's a journey that I would have never imagined would be so...so, engaging...so real and profound in and of itself.
Physical Angst
Though not drinking for me has been relatively easy in the last eight months (I eventually cut out most of the activities that were conducive to my drunken behavior), I had a very scary episode a few weeks ago.
In the middle of the night, I woke panicked from a dream. I got up, went into my kitchen and had this incredible urge to drink. So incredible, I shook. I opened the refrigerator out of sheer alcoholic habit. I paced. I ran through every life event in a matter of three minutes or so. I was angry, hopeless, sad, and enraged all at the same time. It was horrible. It was so real and present in me. So, I stood there. And decided that I was just going to let it all go through me. Almost like going through a tunnel, seeing all of these people and places go whizzing by. And man, did it hurt. But I felt it all. I refused to just try and forget about it. And eventually, it went away. If you were to visualize this whole incident....it would have started in my head, gone through my heart, and out my toes. It was emotionally draining in one sense and refreshing in another. And the moment passed.
So, I used this the other day (to speak of your foreboding emptiness). I was driving down the road with the leaves changing colours on either side of the road. I was listening to Les Miserables on the stereo and I had this overwhelming sadness. I missed my ex husband. I missed being irresponsible. I was mourning everything. I felt so so sad (of course, the music didn't help). So damn melancholy. I decided instead of changing the music to some happy yappy station, I would let myself feel all of this again. Feel it right through to my heart. And again, it hurt. Pain is remarkable in that aspect. But,in doing so, I was so much happier that I was capable of feeling deep emotion. That I had worked so hard over the last months to be able to be in touch with these emotions---sad, angry whatever. And I cried....and the tears came out like crazy. Cried so hard that I had to pull over with my Les Miserables blaring the most sappy song and just weep. And then? It was over. It passed. And I found my resilience to the situation enlightening. I had released so much....and that is something that I had never been able to do in the fourteen years I had been drinking.
So, to sum up....the feelings of sadness, the need for alcohol haven't gone away. They are still present in some capacity. The tools that you have within yourself just get more refined and stronger to deal with these situations. You become more aware of your emotions and strengths...and pull them out when needed. And that, I suppose, has been my on-going method.
WFS, October 2002
10 months.
Ahh, I am sitting here on this very snowy day looking through some of my older posts, reading some of my journal entries from the last months...reflecting on where I am now in my sobriety.
The last two months have been difficult. I have become very comfortable with my sobriety, but I am still getting used to my new life, my new skin. I am still learning how to appreciate myself and embrace the many choices I have made. And at times, especially of late, it's been taxing. In the first months, the changes I had made were so dramatic, I was able to tangibly measure my personal success. Then, I felt as if I was struggling not to fall backwards, instead of moving forward. Here, I was thinking that once the need for drinking had simmered, my emotions would simmer as well. Not exactly the case.
In this tumultuous time, I suddenly realized something very profound. I was going through these "bumps" in my life. To be illustrative, I was driving over these bumps with headlights on for the first time. I see what the issues are. But I can also see in front of me. My head is clear and I have become amazingly aware of my surroundings. I am securely strapped into my car, riding out the bumps. And there are many!
I am proud of where I am these days. I pull strength out when I need it. I look back on my life as if it's a tiny scar on my heart. It was so painful, but it's just a scar now. Healed, but constantly reminding me how fragile my past is. How fragile we are as women. As women in recovery. And it's an ever present feeling of accomplishment.
The last two months have been difficult. I have become very comfortable with my sobriety, but I am still getting used to my new life, my new skin. I am still learning how to appreciate myself and embrace the many choices I have made. And at times, especially of late, it's been taxing. In the first months, the changes I had made were so dramatic, I was able to tangibly measure my personal success. Then, I felt as if I was struggling not to fall backwards, instead of moving forward. Here, I was thinking that once the need for drinking had simmered, my emotions would simmer as well. Not exactly the case.
In this tumultuous time, I suddenly realized something very profound. I was going through these "bumps" in my life. To be illustrative, I was driving over these bumps with headlights on for the first time. I see what the issues are. But I can also see in front of me. My head is clear and I have become amazingly aware of my surroundings. I am securely strapped into my car, riding out the bumps. And there are many!
I am proud of where I am these days. I pull strength out when I need it. I look back on my life as if it's a tiny scar on my heart. It was so painful, but it's just a scar now. Healed, but constantly reminding me how fragile my past is. How fragile we are as women. As women in recovery. And it's an ever present feeling of accomplishment.
12 months.
One year ago, I woke up. Hung-over. I was sleeping next to someone I didn't know. A bartender, I think. My husband had left me three months before. I was distraught. My family didn't know who I was anymore. I didn't know who I was. I didn't care.
I thought I was dealing with my problems by drinking...something I had done for the last thirteen years. I thought I was wild and free spirited and fun. I thought life revolved around me and drinking. I thought I was the victim. And then I realized that I had a very large problem.
So, a year later I reflect back on the last months. How do I do this? Where did I find the strength to change the direction of my life? And why did I finally do it for myself?
Being capable. I alone made the decision to become sober. I woke up that morning and decided that it was time to end this. End the only relationship that I worked on with veracity. And I grieved. I mourned the loss of my old self. Yet, I continued to go through each day without drinking. I was capable enough to get through the first weeks, then months, and now years. I drew from my ability to succeed. And succeed well.
Being Competent. Not drinking was easier than becoming sober. I was not very apt at being a sober woman. I missed the bars. Missed the parties. And I still thought sober people where boring. I felt like I was failing a test...or better yet, felt like leaving the classroom all together. What was I learning? And then, I noticed that I was allowing other people into my life. Responsible people. Who did not plan their entire day around happy hour. And I learned from them. I sought out support. I looked for teachers who were schooled in life. A new life.
Being Caring. It all came down to intimacy. How could I be intimate with other people if I wasn't being honest within? How could I care about anyone if I couldn't love myself? This is ever evolving. As I became sober, my anger dissipated. My life was less dramatic and I began to enjoy myself. I was learning who I was from outside the bottle. And in doing so, I have been open to other's emotions. I see them. I want to know about the lives of others. I am trying to care about myself and let it become the aura around me. And it works.
Being Compassionate. And now, I sit here on my year. My heart is not only my own, but it goes out to every person who suffers the same affliction. We grieve for the losses in our lives. On a universal or a microscopic level. We see national tragedy and we bring that into our own heart. And in my sobriety, I am learning how to speak with my emotions to people. I am learning how to bring forth my art and my writing so that I can share my gifts with everyone. And I can constantly appreciate where I have been. We share a commonality between us.
I am what I think. I keep a picture of me on the refrigerator. I was drinking a glass of wine, looking haggard and forlorn. It was if I was about to drop out of life at any point. And I literally carried all the weight of my life on my shoulders. I thought I was a good person who was slighted by the world. I look at that picture now, and I think, I am a woman who overcame the things that scared me the most. I am a woman who has walked down a different path and keeps meeting people on the way. I am a woman who enjoys the walk as much as the destination. And mostly, I am a woman who has let go of the past and begun to live in the present.
And I have you all to thank.
WFS, February 2003
I thought I was dealing with my problems by drinking...something I had done for the last thirteen years. I thought I was wild and free spirited and fun. I thought life revolved around me and drinking. I thought I was the victim. And then I realized that I had a very large problem.
So, a year later I reflect back on the last months. How do I do this? Where did I find the strength to change the direction of my life? And why did I finally do it for myself?
Being capable. I alone made the decision to become sober. I woke up that morning and decided that it was time to end this. End the only relationship that I worked on with veracity. And I grieved. I mourned the loss of my old self. Yet, I continued to go through each day without drinking. I was capable enough to get through the first weeks, then months, and now years. I drew from my ability to succeed. And succeed well.
Being Competent. Not drinking was easier than becoming sober. I was not very apt at being a sober woman. I missed the bars. Missed the parties. And I still thought sober people where boring. I felt like I was failing a test...or better yet, felt like leaving the classroom all together. What was I learning? And then, I noticed that I was allowing other people into my life. Responsible people. Who did not plan their entire day around happy hour. And I learned from them. I sought out support. I looked for teachers who were schooled in life. A new life.
Being Caring. It all came down to intimacy. How could I be intimate with other people if I wasn't being honest within? How could I care about anyone if I couldn't love myself? This is ever evolving. As I became sober, my anger dissipated. My life was less dramatic and I began to enjoy myself. I was learning who I was from outside the bottle. And in doing so, I have been open to other's emotions. I see them. I want to know about the lives of others. I am trying to care about myself and let it become the aura around me. And it works.
Being Compassionate. And now, I sit here on my year. My heart is not only my own, but it goes out to every person who suffers the same affliction. We grieve for the losses in our lives. On a universal or a microscopic level. We see national tragedy and we bring that into our own heart. And in my sobriety, I am learning how to speak with my emotions to people. I am learning how to bring forth my art and my writing so that I can share my gifts with everyone. And I can constantly appreciate where I have been. We share a commonality between us.
I am what I think. I keep a picture of me on the refrigerator. I was drinking a glass of wine, looking haggard and forlorn. It was if I was about to drop out of life at any point. And I literally carried all the weight of my life on my shoulders. I thought I was a good person who was slighted by the world. I look at that picture now, and I think, I am a woman who overcame the things that scared me the most. I am a woman who has walked down a different path and keeps meeting people on the way. I am a woman who enjoys the walk as much as the destination. And mostly, I am a woman who has let go of the past and begun to live in the present.
And I have you all to thank.
WFS, February 2003