Hi All,
Today is Wednesday, April 3rd. I've been writing about my Dad's death so much lately that sometimes I forget how this all started. So, that said, I am going on a walk down memory lane tonite. My walk one week from today exactly nine years ago. That would take us to April 10, 2004. In 2004 was 30 years old. I am not going to blog about my romantic life at that point except to say that I was with a man who I did not deserve, and really did not fully appreciate until a few years ago. (I will also add that the only reason I am not going to write about that part of this story is that it is not fully mine and I dont think it is fair to share other people's lives in the same crazy way that I share my own without getting permission and since we are no longer in touch this would be impossible.) Anyway, in 2004 I was working very hard not to be a daily drinker. I was doing this thing I guess you could call my attempt at controlled drinking. If you dont have an alcohol problem this may not make any sense but if you do then you can appreciate the special hell that this project creates.
So there I was dating this nice man who was willing and able to give me the life that I said I wanted and yet it seemed something was missing. I was living alone with my dog and down the street from the very same house that I had moved to in my previous relationship. When I had moved into that house, I thought I would live there, with that man, for a long time. Imagined I'd have children there or around there. Thought things would turn out different. When I found myself alone, in an apt, up the street from where I had imagined my future I became scared, confused, and desperate.
I had moved on so quickly and with such velocity that I dont think I even really knew then how I felt and what I wanted. I was drinking much less in an effort to prove something to myself about my maturity or my life or myself but when I did drink, well, it was not pretty, not controlled, and I was not ok. April 9 I found myself in NYC visiting my old roomate and looking to begin drinking at 3pm. I began at a bar in the East Village that was in a basement and very dark. At 9pm I vaguely recall being in the bathroom with a man I didnt know. By 10p I remember looking in the mirror and feeling totally disconnected to the person who was looking back--after that it is all sort of black and brown spots. What it was mostly, was terrifying and, in retrospect, life changing.
That black out and my realization after it that my drinking was not working, had not been working for a long time, and basically had never really worked was life changing for me. It all happened in April. So April is a strange month for me. I remember the weather and how sad and scared and lonely I was in the beginning of the month. Remember just how desperate I was at one point to get my old drinking partner back and how confused I was, even at 30, about what love was--what it felt like to be loved and to love. I had pain, need, desperation wrapped around and in between it all. It's painful and sad to remember those times not just because of my regrets about the people that I hurt but also because of how much I hurt myself and how vividly I still remember that pain.
But that pain did do something for me. It moved me from a place of victimhood, desperation, and addiction towards a new and very different place. It did not happen overnite but it did happen pretty quickly. Once I stopped fighting the pain and just felt it...it moved me. And once the pain got inside me and I allowed myself to feel it and not anestheisize it then I was changed. The pain forced me to be honest. It forced me to get help. It forced me to show up for myself and stop hiding behind bad relationships and drama. And when the alcohol, weed, and men that loved them both more than me were all gone...what was left...was me. Stripped down and without any bells or whistles I began anew. Began to peel away the lies that I told myself until what was left was real. Over the last 9 years I have peeled, stripped, and peeled and stripped and then built it all back up and up and up until I was solid, strong, real. In the last 4 months my new self has been shaken, pushed, prodded, and knocked down. At times I've wondered if maybe I was wrong to think I was strong at all. Have questioned my life, my choices, my sanity. Have reached out and then shut down. Have opened up and then closed again. Have pushed, pulled, and tantrumed and thru it all, despite it all, I've remained...myself. And that is something that
Today is Wednesday, April 3rd. I've been writing about my Dad's death so much lately that sometimes I forget how this all started. So, that said, I am going on a walk down memory lane tonite. My walk one week from today exactly nine years ago. That would take us to April 10, 2004. In 2004 was 30 years old. I am not going to blog about my romantic life at that point except to say that I was with a man who I did not deserve, and really did not fully appreciate until a few years ago. (I will also add that the only reason I am not going to write about that part of this story is that it is not fully mine and I dont think it is fair to share other people's lives in the same crazy way that I share my own without getting permission and since we are no longer in touch this would be impossible.) Anyway, in 2004 I was working very hard not to be a daily drinker. I was doing this thing I guess you could call my attempt at controlled drinking. If you dont have an alcohol problem this may not make any sense but if you do then you can appreciate the special hell that this project creates.
So there I was dating this nice man who was willing and able to give me the life that I said I wanted and yet it seemed something was missing. I was living alone with my dog and down the street from the very same house that I had moved to in my previous relationship. When I had moved into that house, I thought I would live there, with that man, for a long time. Imagined I'd have children there or around there. Thought things would turn out different. When I found myself alone, in an apt, up the street from where I had imagined my future I became scared, confused, and desperate.
I had moved on so quickly and with such velocity that I dont think I even really knew then how I felt and what I wanted. I was drinking much less in an effort to prove something to myself about my maturity or my life or myself but when I did drink, well, it was not pretty, not controlled, and I was not ok. April 9 I found myself in NYC visiting my old roomate and looking to begin drinking at 3pm. I began at a bar in the East Village that was in a basement and very dark. At 9pm I vaguely recall being in the bathroom with a man I didnt know. By 10p I remember looking in the mirror and feeling totally disconnected to the person who was looking back--after that it is all sort of black and brown spots. What it was mostly, was terrifying and, in retrospect, life changing.
That black out and my realization after it that my drinking was not working, had not been working for a long time, and basically had never really worked was life changing for me. It all happened in April. So April is a strange month for me. I remember the weather and how sad and scared and lonely I was in the beginning of the month. Remember just how desperate I was at one point to get my old drinking partner back and how confused I was, even at 30, about what love was--what it felt like to be loved and to love. I had pain, need, desperation wrapped around and in between it all. It's painful and sad to remember those times not just because of my regrets about the people that I hurt but also because of how much I hurt myself and how vividly I still remember that pain.
But that pain did do something for me. It moved me from a place of victimhood, desperation, and addiction towards a new and very different place. It did not happen overnite but it did happen pretty quickly. Once I stopped fighting the pain and just felt it...it moved me. And once the pain got inside me and I allowed myself to feel it and not anestheisize it then I was changed. The pain forced me to be honest. It forced me to get help. It forced me to show up for myself and stop hiding behind bad relationships and drama. And when the alcohol, weed, and men that loved them both more than me were all gone...what was left...was me. Stripped down and without any bells or whistles I began anew. Began to peel away the lies that I told myself until what was left was real. Over the last 9 years I have peeled, stripped, and peeled and stripped and then built it all back up and up and up until I was solid, strong, real. In the last 4 months my new self has been shaken, pushed, prodded, and knocked down. At times I've wondered if maybe I was wrong to think I was strong at all. Have questioned my life, my choices, my sanity. Have reached out and then shut down. Have opened up and then closed again. Have pushed, pulled, and tantrumed and thru it all, despite it all, I've remained...myself. And that is something that
No comments:
Post a Comment