It's been a while since I've posted, and like anything you want to be better at, practice is key. These past few months have been exhilarating, exhausting, purposeful, trying and satisfying. I've worked very hard on my 12 Step program and am deeply embedded in the new community I am privileged to be on this journey with. At 8 months of sobriety, I've learned that patience is a game and not a thing I can control. In fact, pretty much nothing is under my control. I used to be a control freak (still am sometimes - working on it); thinking that I was being so helpful and organizing everyone's life all the time. Turns out, spinning my wheels pushing people around caused my own life to be left in a pile of wreckage. I probably (no, totally) was a pain in the ass to deal with. Part of my 4th step is doing a personal inventory of resentments and learning what my part in them might be. This particular step has taken me over 6 months... and counting. It's a long list... what can I say? 35 years of pain takes a while to inventory.
Resentments aside, I'm learning boundaries and self-care. Many of my closest relationships were operating in a way that caused me continual stress and you guessed it, resentments. I never really learned how to say no, or draw a line where something didn't suit my comfortability so I manifested coping mechanisms via other avenues - namely, alcohol and drugs. Without these numbing agents, all the feels are hard to digest at once, so I've been kind of isolating while I attend a few meetings a week and diligently reorganize my entire apartment.
This year has also afforded me some amazing travel excursions in the name of saving money on booze and cigarettes and parties. (I also switched to vaping). This summer I attended my second TAPS Siblings Retreat with other sibling survivors of lost soldiers. These trips are usually intense, exhausting and chaotic at best. This was no exception, but I got to see some amazing SoCal beaches and riding bikes through Newport was a distinct highlight. After that I went to Taos, NM; the highlight of my summer for sure. My long time friend and I went to explore Earthships as a means to inform my journey to build off-grid. The Earthship, Taos, the people in Taos, the crazy desert rave dance party at the local brewery at the end of the week was all just crazy amazing. After that I went to visit my grandparents in Madison, WI. They're originally from there but moved to Fort Myers many years ago and I've only ever visited them in FL. They are getting on and bought a summer home in McFarland just outside of Madison. It was a weird experience, but they managed to gather all the extended relatives I'd never met and that was super cool. To see your roots, the people you come from on the extensions of the family tree and to hear stories about great, great, great relatives is an experience most folks don't get. I'm super grateful for those wonderful people.
Next up: Nashville! I decided that I need some space from the family obligations for the holidays this year and decided to leave town on Christmas Day. I'm worried I will feel sad and lonely and nostalgic to be on a plane and in another city that day, but I'm meeting a good friend who I haven't seen in a long time so, there's that. I'm also a new person, and the old habits and ways and distinct family stresses of Christmas are not a welcome time anymore. At least not until I have practiced more boundary protection in a more loving way.
So there it is, I'm knee deep in practice: Prayer, Meditation, Inventory, Gratefulness, Service and Self-Love. It's all a practice and I'm just doing it one day at a time.
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
The Last Glimmer
For the last few months, and particularly this week, I have poured a lot of energy into a creative endeavor driven by my cousin; a short film project. This sleepless adventure has deeply inspired me to refocus my heart on my own creative ambitions. Late last year I decided to set out and write a book about the process of becoming a sibling survivor of death in war. Though my brother was killed 6 1/2 years ago, I thought maybe it would be a good idea to reopen that wound; for deeper healing I suppose. As the years go on, resentments and unresolved anger have morphed into a new and tangible albatross that I either choose to ignore, or process somehow. Writing a book seemed like a logical solution.
Ben's life was littered with a cast of characters beloved and charming. In his death, everyone muddled together in grief, painting a distinct story of his wild and varied life. I decided to approach my story using the memories of those who knew him best. One such person has been on the film set this week working on unrelated projects. He reminded me of my most pressing and important memory of my brother. Years ago, there was a gathering at my old apartment and Ben asked about my bookshelf full of journals. I told him it was all the poetry I'd written since the beginning of middle school. He was astounded at the body of work I'd created thus far, and asked me to read something. I chose to read a piece written several years prior. To say that Ben was supportive of my work is a slight understatement. When I told him I hadn't written in as long, he made me promise him, that I would never, ever stop writing. That promise has weighed heavily on my heart and soul since, and more so in his passing.
The days I spend at the old 9 to 5 are riddled with guilt, longing and regret. Without proper training as a journalist, creative writer or even published work, I lack the confidence required to have the balls to quit my full time job and launch off on my typewriter like some sort of Bukowski. Of course, here is where the discipline of an artist should enter stage right where I would be spending my evenings off toiling for the promise I so want to keep. The truth is, the book project is a major ordeal that I've never even approached before and a little (a lot) daunting. After hearing the reminder of the promise yesterday by Ben's best friend, I decided that the best approach at keeping it is to accomplish my original dream. I have enough poetry to publish eight volumes and there have been countless manuscripts assembled already. Perhaps going through the process of attempting to publish work I've already created would be a nice gate opener for the larger goal. Less daunting.
As I also embark on a new sober journey (65 days!!), I find that old lurking feelings encroach the surface more everyday. As I am getting more honest with myself, it's harder to ignore the truths about my life's wishes. When hungover all the time, it was enough effort to roll outta bed and show up for my paycheck, let alone write a book in the evening. After 10 years at the helm of the same job at the same company, I'm beginning to have a crisis of spirit. The weight of the promise I must keep grows heavier each passing year, and heavier still as the fog of alcoholism slowly begins to unveil a deeper desire to follow my heart instead of my wallet.
My cousin has taken many risks in life to seek that which is greater than the stability of cubicle life and actually, live. I have a great many voices in my head discouraging me from even attempting a project that will surely lay stagnant on a long list of unrecognized authors. Fear of completing a project for a ho-hum response has me paralyzed most of the time. The reality is, most of our lives are probably like that. Many of us have worked tirelessly on projects near and dear to our hearts simply for the satisfaction. I think I am finally fed up enough of only having that glorious self gratification just out of reach. I am fed up of talking about my dreams and wants, instead of showing the proof. Life is so fucking short, and I am crumbling in this stale old stability box of work day in and day out for no one important to me. However, finding the confidence and motivation to keep a promise born as an attempt to give me those very boosts without him here to fuel the fire, is the ultimate irony. I am so grateful for those that remind me of him and his wishes for me. I truly hope I can carry it with me on days I need it most. Here's to growing a pair, and to healing through chasing dreams.
Ben's life was littered with a cast of characters beloved and charming. In his death, everyone muddled together in grief, painting a distinct story of his wild and varied life. I decided to approach my story using the memories of those who knew him best. One such person has been on the film set this week working on unrelated projects. He reminded me of my most pressing and important memory of my brother. Years ago, there was a gathering at my old apartment and Ben asked about my bookshelf full of journals. I told him it was all the poetry I'd written since the beginning of middle school. He was astounded at the body of work I'd created thus far, and asked me to read something. I chose to read a piece written several years prior. To say that Ben was supportive of my work is a slight understatement. When I told him I hadn't written in as long, he made me promise him, that I would never, ever stop writing. That promise has weighed heavily on my heart and soul since, and more so in his passing.
The days I spend at the old 9 to 5 are riddled with guilt, longing and regret. Without proper training as a journalist, creative writer or even published work, I lack the confidence required to have the balls to quit my full time job and launch off on my typewriter like some sort of Bukowski. Of course, here is where the discipline of an artist should enter stage right where I would be spending my evenings off toiling for the promise I so want to keep. The truth is, the book project is a major ordeal that I've never even approached before and a little (a lot) daunting. After hearing the reminder of the promise yesterday by Ben's best friend, I decided that the best approach at keeping it is to accomplish my original dream. I have enough poetry to publish eight volumes and there have been countless manuscripts assembled already. Perhaps going through the process of attempting to publish work I've already created would be a nice gate opener for the larger goal. Less daunting.
As I also embark on a new sober journey (65 days!!), I find that old lurking feelings encroach the surface more everyday. As I am getting more honest with myself, it's harder to ignore the truths about my life's wishes. When hungover all the time, it was enough effort to roll outta bed and show up for my paycheck, let alone write a book in the evening. After 10 years at the helm of the same job at the same company, I'm beginning to have a crisis of spirit. The weight of the promise I must keep grows heavier each passing year, and heavier still as the fog of alcoholism slowly begins to unveil a deeper desire to follow my heart instead of my wallet.
My cousin has taken many risks in life to seek that which is greater than the stability of cubicle life and actually, live. I have a great many voices in my head discouraging me from even attempting a project that will surely lay stagnant on a long list of unrecognized authors. Fear of completing a project for a ho-hum response has me paralyzed most of the time. The reality is, most of our lives are probably like that. Many of us have worked tirelessly on projects near and dear to our hearts simply for the satisfaction. I think I am finally fed up enough of only having that glorious self gratification just out of reach. I am fed up of talking about my dreams and wants, instead of showing the proof. Life is so fucking short, and I am crumbling in this stale old stability box of work day in and day out for no one important to me. However, finding the confidence and motivation to keep a promise born as an attempt to give me those very boosts without him here to fuel the fire, is the ultimate irony. I am so grateful for those that remind me of him and his wishes for me. I truly hope I can carry it with me on days I need it most. Here's to growing a pair, and to healing through chasing dreams.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
The Change
This is one of those moments in life, where everything changes. Things have felt painful and stagnant for the last few years and I think we were all suffering from that mercury retrograde thing together. Sometimes life changes because you make it, and sometimes I think forces at large are in play.
All at the same time, the following has occurred:
- I turned 35 (yay hormones)
- I decided to get sober (30 days!)
- I am up for a promotion at work ($$$)
- I'm helping my cousin launch an awesome short film project
Suffice it to say, I am busy. All the while, I am trying to keep my mind on writing a book about my experiences of losing my brother in Iraq 6 years ago. I occasionally schedule interviews with members of my family, record them and then put it in a file for a while. There hasn't been that much actual writing. I keep saying I'll do it when I'm less busy, but we all know that's probably just an excuse. This is a great example of the artist's dilemma.
As of today, I have 30 days of sobriety, the film project has barely met 40% of it's funding needs, and I'm leaning into the daily grind of my ever increasing job stress. Everything is new, challenging; and I'm facing it all whilst finding new ways to cope with daily life. The emotional roller coaster that is early sobriety is hard to explain. The first few weeks were easy enough, as the horrors of my recent escapades were still fresh and haunting. Now that I have rested, exercised, and worked hard for a month straight; I'm ready to have some fun and blow off steam. My alcoholic diseased brain tells me I can have a drink now, but I know it's just a pinhole view that will open to wider consequences.
There are many reasons, other than the consequences, to get sober. As I near middle-age, I realize that I've wasted a lot of precious years partying and ducking away from potentially great suitors because I was too embarrassed to date anyone successful. For shame! My empty bank account! Dirty apartment! Skeletons in the closet! I didn't feel good enough to date anyone worthy of my love, because I was too scared to be found out. As my body clock ticks away I realize if I want those things; family, a loving husband; I'd probably do best to take a good hard look at myself.
And so I am here. I find sobriety difficult and a relief all at once. I don't have to worry about driving, or paying bills, or saving up for that piece of land somewhere. Opportunities seem to abound and if I make good, conscious and sober decisions, I can potentially achieve all my wildest dreams. Risk vs. Reward is a philosophical concept I was never good at. Ironically, I like things stable, predictable and planned. Now that I am older, wiser and sober, I feel I can face these life changing decisions with a cool head, and forge a solid destiny. Whereas in the past, I have always played catch up and "fix the crises" over and over. I don't know why I never saw the difference before. Predictably, life will always bring instability, and now I can plan for it.
I guess this is adulthood. Finally.
***Please check out our film project and support if you can here!***
All at the same time, the following has occurred:
- I turned 35 (yay hormones)
- I decided to get sober (30 days!)
- I am up for a promotion at work ($$$)
- I'm helping my cousin launch an awesome short film project
Suffice it to say, I am busy. All the while, I am trying to keep my mind on writing a book about my experiences of losing my brother in Iraq 6 years ago. I occasionally schedule interviews with members of my family, record them and then put it in a file for a while. There hasn't been that much actual writing. I keep saying I'll do it when I'm less busy, but we all know that's probably just an excuse. This is a great example of the artist's dilemma.
As of today, I have 30 days of sobriety, the film project has barely met 40% of it's funding needs, and I'm leaning into the daily grind of my ever increasing job stress. Everything is new, challenging; and I'm facing it all whilst finding new ways to cope with daily life. The emotional roller coaster that is early sobriety is hard to explain. The first few weeks were easy enough, as the horrors of my recent escapades were still fresh and haunting. Now that I have rested, exercised, and worked hard for a month straight; I'm ready to have some fun and blow off steam. My alcoholic diseased brain tells me I can have a drink now, but I know it's just a pinhole view that will open to wider consequences.
There are many reasons, other than the consequences, to get sober. As I near middle-age, I realize that I've wasted a lot of precious years partying and ducking away from potentially great suitors because I was too embarrassed to date anyone successful. For shame! My empty bank account! Dirty apartment! Skeletons in the closet! I didn't feel good enough to date anyone worthy of my love, because I was too scared to be found out. As my body clock ticks away I realize if I want those things; family, a loving husband; I'd probably do best to take a good hard look at myself.
And so I am here. I find sobriety difficult and a relief all at once. I don't have to worry about driving, or paying bills, or saving up for that piece of land somewhere. Opportunities seem to abound and if I make good, conscious and sober decisions, I can potentially achieve all my wildest dreams. Risk vs. Reward is a philosophical concept I was never good at. Ironically, I like things stable, predictable and planned. Now that I am older, wiser and sober, I feel I can face these life changing decisions with a cool head, and forge a solid destiny. Whereas in the past, I have always played catch up and "fix the crises" over and over. I don't know why I never saw the difference before. Predictably, life will always bring instability, and now I can plan for it.
I guess this is adulthood. Finally.
***Please check out our film project and support if you can here!***
Monday, March 9, 2015
Milestones of an Ever-Changing Onion
The beauty about going through difficult times, skidding across the gravel and hitting those brick walls is that you peel back the layers of protective skin, and get down to brass tacks with yourself. When you're all roughed up, scabby and bleeding, you find out what you're really made of. I guess this is what they call "life" and frankly, I'm grateful. Without the hard hitting times, I never would have emerged the strong, beautiful butterfly I am today.
This past winter I had my heart broken so viciously I thought at almost 35 I had already been through enough relationship pain that it wouldn't really ever happen again. I don't think someone has hurt me that deeply since my first love blindsided me with another girl back when I was 17. Fortunately, it's the best thing that could have ever happened to me. In such anguish, one finds a way to build strength to hopefully never go through that again. Allowing someone in my heart to have it handed back in shambles drove me to really find out why. Why would I not protect myself better? Why didn't I see this coming? I'm not saying one should go through life hiding behind walls or a consistently guarded heart, because there is so much beauty and strength in allowing yourself to be vulnerable, but it did make me do a personal inventory of boundaries, and lack thereof.
As I broach 35, I realize the real beauty in truth, and that is the honesty I have faced with myself. I have finally learned what I am worth, what I deserve, what makes me truly happy and I finally really, truly, deeply love myself. I have seen that to be human is to err, and boy do we all. The beauty in human nature is that we are all different, but we all struggle to feel confident and ok sometimes. No one is better than I am, no one is prettier or more beautiful than the beauty I see and believe in my own heart. I am finally in a place to celebrate the beauty of humanity because I finally celebrate my own. It's really hard to appreciate beauty and strength in others when you're unsure or insecure about your own. You are shifty, uncomfortable and tend to overcomepensate for your own shortcomings in often an unnatural and glaring obvious fashion. No one buys it. I certainly didn't.
So, I embrace this milestone birthday, even though I may not be where I thought I would be (still single, no children...sigh) because I am good enough, right where I'm at, today, this moment. I love who I am as a woman, for all my faults and my shortcomings, but also for all my strengths and power too. Once I cleaned out the yucky self-hate tapes, I looked at who I am fundamentally and I like me, gosh darnit, I really like me.
I hope this helps you to like yourself more too; because we are all beautiful in our own ways . I hope this encourages some of you to allow yourself to be just a little bit more vulnerable out there. Without risk there is no reward, and just imagine, how much more connected we can be if we allowed our own self love and strength to carry the risk of opening up to others.
Thanks to everyone in my life who has always loved me for who I truly am all those years I didn't for myself. Because of your love, I found hope and now believe it for myself too.
This past winter I had my heart broken so viciously I thought at almost 35 I had already been through enough relationship pain that it wouldn't really ever happen again. I don't think someone has hurt me that deeply since my first love blindsided me with another girl back when I was 17. Fortunately, it's the best thing that could have ever happened to me. In such anguish, one finds a way to build strength to hopefully never go through that again. Allowing someone in my heart to have it handed back in shambles drove me to really find out why. Why would I not protect myself better? Why didn't I see this coming? I'm not saying one should go through life hiding behind walls or a consistently guarded heart, because there is so much beauty and strength in allowing yourself to be vulnerable, but it did make me do a personal inventory of boundaries, and lack thereof.
As I broach 35, I realize the real beauty in truth, and that is the honesty I have faced with myself. I have finally learned what I am worth, what I deserve, what makes me truly happy and I finally really, truly, deeply love myself. I have seen that to be human is to err, and boy do we all. The beauty in human nature is that we are all different, but we all struggle to feel confident and ok sometimes. No one is better than I am, no one is prettier or more beautiful than the beauty I see and believe in my own heart. I am finally in a place to celebrate the beauty of humanity because I finally celebrate my own. It's really hard to appreciate beauty and strength in others when you're unsure or insecure about your own. You are shifty, uncomfortable and tend to overcomepensate for your own shortcomings in often an unnatural and glaring obvious fashion. No one buys it. I certainly didn't.
So, I embrace this milestone birthday, even though I may not be where I thought I would be (still single, no children...sigh) because I am good enough, right where I'm at, today, this moment. I love who I am as a woman, for all my faults and my shortcomings, but also for all my strengths and power too. Once I cleaned out the yucky self-hate tapes, I looked at who I am fundamentally and I like me, gosh darnit, I really like me.
I hope this helps you to like yourself more too; because we are all beautiful in our own ways . I hope this encourages some of you to allow yourself to be just a little bit more vulnerable out there. Without risk there is no reward, and just imagine, how much more connected we can be if we allowed our own self love and strength to carry the risk of opening up to others.
Thanks to everyone in my life who has always loved me for who I truly am all those years I didn't for myself. Because of your love, I found hope and now believe it for myself too.
Happy Birthday to me. I'm grateful to be alive.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
Onion Layers
Sometimes, when we are reeling from chaos back there, setting a bunch of new goals and disciplines are a completely scoffable idea. 2014 basically ripped me a new asshole, and I'm willing to bet I am not the only one. I sense better times are ahead, but not without really absorbing whatever we were meant to learn in the last 12 months. If you didn't learn something from those trials, then I think the next few months may not seem that much better. I for one, am determined to really embrace the skin flaying pain I've endured as a definite mental notice to take heed; repeats will occur if you don't.
As I broach 35, it's sobering to realize you're no longer finding yourself, you're defining yourself. Keep It Moving is generally my motto when I feel stuck in an emotional circle I can't seem to shake. The tough keep moving. It certainly seemed to work for FDR. I've had ample time to feel the feels and now I need to pick up some gas. Pushing through an emotional balloon that seems to have sucked you into it's distorted view, is just as pleasant as sticking yourself with a needle. Yet it must be done. Adapt or die. Kiss whatever good thing you thought you had back there with sweet sorrow and keep it the fuck moving. I realized the other day, I started 2014 with the song "Break My Stride"; and quite fitting, I embrace that mantra more than ever. Only this year, it's less about not letting anyone break my stride, and instead, not letting anyone hold me down...again.
I will press on, continue to shed my deep onion layers, rustle those dust bunnies in the corners of my soul and shine that mirror further in. For we are but vessels - open caverns to expel the gifts we are given.
Le Chiem. To life. Cheers, and Happy New Year.
As I broach 35, it's sobering to realize you're no longer finding yourself, you're defining yourself. Keep It Moving is generally my motto when I feel stuck in an emotional circle I can't seem to shake. The tough keep moving. It certainly seemed to work for FDR. I've had ample time to feel the feels and now I need to pick up some gas. Pushing through an emotional balloon that seems to have sucked you into it's distorted view, is just as pleasant as sticking yourself with a needle. Yet it must be done. Adapt or die. Kiss whatever good thing you thought you had back there with sweet sorrow and keep it the fuck moving. I realized the other day, I started 2014 with the song "Break My Stride"; and quite fitting, I embrace that mantra more than ever. Only this year, it's less about not letting anyone break my stride, and instead, not letting anyone hold me down...again.
I will press on, continue to shed my deep onion layers, rustle those dust bunnies in the corners of my soul and shine that mirror further in. For we are but vessels - open caverns to expel the gifts we are given.
Le Chiem. To life. Cheers, and Happy New Year.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)