July 17th, 1986
Miss you, Dad.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Creative Recovery
This is a program I wrote for using art and recovery, click on the link and save to your favorites, it's going to be a whole new site soon.
The site is about to undergo a massive change and I'm adding a lot more content and updating things like addresses, e-mail, message boards, etc..
Coming in August.
Oh, and I'm finally writing THAT book, the one about being sober.
Coming in the future.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Quote of the week.
"If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude. Don't complain."
Maya Angelou
Maya Angelou
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
The Last Glass
I always like to repost this around Springtime, I wrote this five years ago.........
the last glass.
I started with twenty-four. Twenty-four Waterford wine glasses. It was weeks before my wedding to the man I so arduously loved. Some were gifts from my family. Many were gifts from our friends. The blue boxes with white ribbon poured in like the wine collection I so astutely built. I took each one out of the box, unwrapping their delicate tissue. The chardonnay glasses with their spindled stems- as if ready to be caressed by the sophisticated hand. Waiting for the candlelight to pour through, reflecting romantic evenings. The cabernet glasses with their wide mouths waiting for a supple reward. I could tilt the glass back to meet the succulence in my lips. Finally, my most cherished eight..the Bordeaux glasses. They were the generals in my army. The glasses were heavier in weight yet far more elegant than the rest. I sat waiting for the right vintage to begin my revolution.
I whimpered when I broke the first six. Three months after my nuptials to the man I thought I loved. The expensive vintage collection began to dwindle. In its place came the bottles that I found at a local winery. Not a bottle from Georges Duboeuf, but some fine wine. A large soiree, friends mingling around the fire. Forbidden fruit poured endlessly by the gracious host, who was subsequently in the Garden of Eden herself. Words began to unfold and emotions began to erupt. First went the chardonnays. Thrown with such vigilance. Aimed right at my beloveds head. There went two hundred dollars towards the refrigerator door. Tearfully, I swept up the shards of glass. But, alas there were eighteen more. I still had the reds. In my battle, I had lost a troupe but still had soldiers.
I cried when I broke the next four. In the early light of spring, I reached for a glass. My coordination stifled by my constant imbibing. I poured a bottle of inexpensive cabernet into my tall glass. I no longer took trips to the winery anymore. I had been there far too often; my face was beginning to be recognized by the patrons. I searched for replacements and conjured up my imaginary wineries in Southern France. I could pretend. I could pretend that my wine rack was not empty. I could pretend that I was not alone. I was drinking away the grief that his silence caused. The grace of the Waterford could not still my shaking hands. I dropped them. Four of my best friends dropped in one evening. With such ferocity, I tried to save them. I had my own personal drunken funeral for my glasses. Tossed into the trash compactor.
I sobbed when he took the next eight. Fall had come. He left with the decanter. The wonderful Waterford decanter. With it etchings so meticulously set in the glass. He lovingly wrapped up the reds and left me with six. He continued the romance, the love affair with elegance and sonnets. Only, my glasses were now empty on the shelf. No life seeped into them. No reflection from candles would burn again. Dust began to choke my thirst. And the flames had been extinguished. Candlelight would no longer pour through the same glass. The wine bottles taken to a new place. To begin a new life. Without me.
I panicked when I broke the next five. One more left. I no longer looked at the glasses with a fervent eye. I used them for anything that could numb the pain. Vineyards had stopped producing the fruit of my garden. In its place found the weeds of alcohols existence. I could only bring myself to lift the glass if it contained venom. I had begun to despise the glasses for the life that used to be contained in them. Glamour had ceased to exist. The clanging of glasses was not in toast but in concerted effort to forget celebration. If the glass was not full, I panicked. Pouring into the loneliest, endless black hole. But not even the last of the glasses could sustain the ache. I threw them in angst. Threw them into the floor as if I could demolish my past. As if I could break this state of destruction. Angry rants begot sophisticated conversation. The stems became daggers into my own heart. One final glass remained.
I rejoiced when the last one broke. It stood on the shelf. An icon to my former life. I worshipped the last glass as if it was on a pedestal. Like a far removed screen star. I looked lovingly at the shining reflection every evening. Yet, I had not touched it in months. Had not caressed its sleek, smooth body. A friend from my old life came. She let it go. It slipped out of her hand. I watched it. I saw its demise. Falling, falling, it shattered into tiny pieces. The stem no longer recognizable. The body marred. Suddenly in one moment, the pieces were gone in the trash. I had scraped them up and thrown them into the past. I looked up. My heart lifted. The war was over. The Waterford was gone. The whites, the reds gone from my life. The wine defeated. Swept up into a pile and discarded into the past. I smiled.
My glass was empty. My life was full.
the last glass.
I started with twenty-four. Twenty-four Waterford wine glasses. It was weeks before my wedding to the man I so arduously loved. Some were gifts from my family. Many were gifts from our friends. The blue boxes with white ribbon poured in like the wine collection I so astutely built. I took each one out of the box, unwrapping their delicate tissue. The chardonnay glasses with their spindled stems- as if ready to be caressed by the sophisticated hand. Waiting for the candlelight to pour through, reflecting romantic evenings. The cabernet glasses with their wide mouths waiting for a supple reward. I could tilt the glass back to meet the succulence in my lips. Finally, my most cherished eight..the Bordeaux glasses. They were the generals in my army. The glasses were heavier in weight yet far more elegant than the rest. I sat waiting for the right vintage to begin my revolution.
I whimpered when I broke the first six. Three months after my nuptials to the man I thought I loved. The expensive vintage collection began to dwindle. In its place came the bottles that I found at a local winery. Not a bottle from Georges Duboeuf, but some fine wine. A large soiree, friends mingling around the fire. Forbidden fruit poured endlessly by the gracious host, who was subsequently in the Garden of Eden herself. Words began to unfold and emotions began to erupt. First went the chardonnays. Thrown with such vigilance. Aimed right at my beloveds head. There went two hundred dollars towards the refrigerator door. Tearfully, I swept up the shards of glass. But, alas there were eighteen more. I still had the reds. In my battle, I had lost a troupe but still had soldiers.
I cried when I broke the next four. In the early light of spring, I reached for a glass. My coordination stifled by my constant imbibing. I poured a bottle of inexpensive cabernet into my tall glass. I no longer took trips to the winery anymore. I had been there far too often; my face was beginning to be recognized by the patrons. I searched for replacements and conjured up my imaginary wineries in Southern France. I could pretend. I could pretend that my wine rack was not empty. I could pretend that I was not alone. I was drinking away the grief that his silence caused. The grace of the Waterford could not still my shaking hands. I dropped them. Four of my best friends dropped in one evening. With such ferocity, I tried to save them. I had my own personal drunken funeral for my glasses. Tossed into the trash compactor.
I sobbed when he took the next eight. Fall had come. He left with the decanter. The wonderful Waterford decanter. With it etchings so meticulously set in the glass. He lovingly wrapped up the reds and left me with six. He continued the romance, the love affair with elegance and sonnets. Only, my glasses were now empty on the shelf. No life seeped into them. No reflection from candles would burn again. Dust began to choke my thirst. And the flames had been extinguished. Candlelight would no longer pour through the same glass. The wine bottles taken to a new place. To begin a new life. Without me.
I panicked when I broke the next five. One more left. I no longer looked at the glasses with a fervent eye. I used them for anything that could numb the pain. Vineyards had stopped producing the fruit of my garden. In its place found the weeds of alcohols existence. I could only bring myself to lift the glass if it contained venom. I had begun to despise the glasses for the life that used to be contained in them. Glamour had ceased to exist. The clanging of glasses was not in toast but in concerted effort to forget celebration. If the glass was not full, I panicked. Pouring into the loneliest, endless black hole. But not even the last of the glasses could sustain the ache. I threw them in angst. Threw them into the floor as if I could demolish my past. As if I could break this state of destruction. Angry rants begot sophisticated conversation. The stems became daggers into my own heart. One final glass remained.
I rejoiced when the last one broke. It stood on the shelf. An icon to my former life. I worshipped the last glass as if it was on a pedestal. Like a far removed screen star. I looked lovingly at the shining reflection every evening. Yet, I had not touched it in months. Had not caressed its sleek, smooth body. A friend from my old life came. She let it go. It slipped out of her hand. I watched it. I saw its demise. Falling, falling, it shattered into tiny pieces. The stem no longer recognizable. The body marred. Suddenly in one moment, the pieces were gone in the trash. I had scraped them up and thrown them into the past. I looked up. My heart lifted. The war was over. The Waterford was gone. The whites, the reds gone from my life. The wine defeated. Swept up into a pile and discarded into the past. I smiled.
My glass was empty. My life was full.
Copyright, KJPartstudio 2007
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
On my 1,825th Daily Reminder (5 years sober)
For the last few days, I have been thinking about this day. Tomorrow is the fifth year that I have traveled down the sober road. Five years. The words keep playing over and over in my head. "Five years ago, I......." Part of me wants to shout it out and the other part wants to run far away.
But, as I do every year, I resolve to sit down and reflect on where I am in my sobriety. This year, I find that I have become a tad more vocal about my place in sober world and the sober world in general.
One aspect in sober world I have noticed this year is the amount of press and publicity sobriety has gotten. On one hand, any kind of recognition for de-stigmatizing being sober is fabulous. We deserve to be here too.
On the other, I have noticed quite a few nuances in "recovery", thanks to the ever increasing role the media plays:
Spouses cheat, blame addiction.
Inappropriate remarks made, blame addiction.
Intolerable actions, blame addiction.
Accidents, blame addiction.
The world falling apart, blame addiction.
And, it's true that when we are bombed, wasted, drunk, addicted, etc. there is a tendency to engage in questionable behavior, we cannot look to quitting said addiction to automatically solve the problem.
From a personal standpoint, I remember when I first became sober, I had a tendency to blame all of my shortcomings on drinking. My behavior was because I drank too much. My irresponsibility was because I was an addict of alcohol. My bad moods were directly related to my drinking past. I blamed and blamed for much of my early sobriety.
I was so busy blaming all of my bad behaviors on my being drunk for those years, I was denying the underlying problems that were there all along, drinking or not drinking. My attitude became, "now that I'm not drinking, I will....." or "since I stopped drinking, I can...." Even worse, "you should have seen my when I was drinking" has been a common mantra. I spoke of resolution and intent, but found myself stuck once I needed to really act upon my words.
Simply put, there comes a time when being truly in recovery needs to spill over into other aspects of life. There is this point where you simply cannot pin everything on your drunk days of yore. It becomes another method of escaping our own personal truth and responsibility to ourselves. Thinking about this stage, I've named my 5th as the OWN IT year.
The OWN IT stage is not the pink cloud of early sobriety. When we first stop drinking, this becomes a monumental feat in and of itself. As it should. I still wake up at times in my life and cannot believe that I ever made the decision to actually stop.
The OWN IT stage is not glamorous. It's likely one the most difficult in our recovery because the crutch is gone. We now stand on our own two sober legs...no excuses.
The OWN IT stage is so important because, I believe, it paves the way to our future emotional happiness.
The OWN IT stage is where we begin to act on all the promises we have made to ourselves when we decided to become sober. We've accepted the fact that our life was not going the way we wanted, and now we must own all the good and the bad.
This OWN IT stage has really been a doozie in terms of realizing how necessary it is to be emotionally responsible. I feel at times, particularly in the last few months, that being sober is no longer good enough. That really owning my actions and emotions is the key to growth. That accepting myself and who I am will only enhance the choice I made five years ago.
For example:
Now that I am sober, I still struggle to get myself to the point of total financial responsibility. Before, I blamed my inability to balance my checkbook on being a barfly. Today, I have to force myself to really look at my spending habits and the reasons behind them. It's not pretty, but I've denied it for so long that getting to the root of the problem is less stressful than continuing my struggle.
Now that I am sober, I can no longer deny those elements in my life that are harmful to myself and my well being. Before, I accepted blame and believed that I was the cause of many things beyond my control. Now, I find that I have to accept other people for who they are and what they can or cannot provide. This has caused me great sadness to realize and then some kind of emotional release when I realize that I cannot control everyone around me.
Now that I am sober, I understand that not everyone will believe me until my actions defer the belief. Before, I thought I was smarter than everyone. I truly believed that my intentions would suffice over actions. Now, I know that only actions can prove what I've long intended. This was a big one for me this year as I had people still believe I was the same person from years ago. Instead of vying for their approval, I've moved on and refocused on my own approval.
Now that I am sober, I have to take one step further. Before, I was sober and that was a great feat. Now, I realize that if I intend to graduate from the emotional responsibility academy, I have to take all the courses.
Today, as sobriety becomes more and more mainstreamed, I worry that it will become a quick fix. I worry that people will use it as an excuse for inexcusable behavior. I did for a long time in my sobriety. In reality, one can only focus on that euphoric feeling of doing good for ourselves for so long before reality sets back in. A reality that causes many people to go back to their old habits and life.
Becoming sober is the first step. Recovery is the process in which we heal. In which we learn to love ourselves again. Where we own up to our demons and resolve to be the person we've intended to be all along.
And in the last five years, I face this challenge every second of my life. I still battle between the person I was and the person I intend to be. I reach so high and sometimes I falter. I question my decision. I get angry at my past. It has become considerably more difficult this year...because I am suddenly faced with the reality that if I don't act on what I truly believe, my decision is for naught.
Yet, if I had to do it all again, I wouldn't change one aspect of my life. I am blown away that I have followed this path over the last five years. I am humbled by the people I meet and the inspiration I have seen. I am grateful for my life in every form, the good and the bad.
And I realize that denying myself the ability to really live life would be detrimental. I deserve all the wonderful and amazing things that have happened, because I am making them happen. I look at this stage of my recovery as a milestone in my emotional schooling. I am so eager to move on to the next grade level, but have to constantly remind myself to listen and pay attention to those elements that will allow me to fully appreciate the life that I am building.
So, another year, another stage. I have a strange sense of happiness underneath my cloak of questionability. I really am proud of where I am, but I am really excited to keep moving forward.
It's all a path.....and the flowers are just starting to bloom along the way.
But, as I do every year, I resolve to sit down and reflect on where I am in my sobriety. This year, I find that I have become a tad more vocal about my place in sober world and the sober world in general.
One aspect in sober world I have noticed this year is the amount of press and publicity sobriety has gotten. On one hand, any kind of recognition for de-stigmatizing being sober is fabulous. We deserve to be here too.
On the other, I have noticed quite a few nuances in "recovery", thanks to the ever increasing role the media plays:
Spouses cheat, blame addiction.
Inappropriate remarks made, blame addiction.
Intolerable actions, blame addiction.
Accidents, blame addiction.
The world falling apart, blame addiction.
And, it's true that when we are bombed, wasted, drunk, addicted, etc. there is a tendency to engage in questionable behavior, we cannot look to quitting said addiction to automatically solve the problem.
From a personal standpoint, I remember when I first became sober, I had a tendency to blame all of my shortcomings on drinking. My behavior was because I drank too much. My irresponsibility was because I was an addict of alcohol. My bad moods were directly related to my drinking past. I blamed and blamed for much of my early sobriety.
I was so busy blaming all of my bad behaviors on my being drunk for those years, I was denying the underlying problems that were there all along, drinking or not drinking. My attitude became, "now that I'm not drinking, I will....." or "since I stopped drinking, I can...." Even worse, "you should have seen my when I was drinking" has been a common mantra. I spoke of resolution and intent, but found myself stuck once I needed to really act upon my words.
Simply put, there comes a time when being truly in recovery needs to spill over into other aspects of life. There is this point where you simply cannot pin everything on your drunk days of yore. It becomes another method of escaping our own personal truth and responsibility to ourselves. Thinking about this stage, I've named my 5th as the OWN IT year.
The OWN IT stage is not the pink cloud of early sobriety. When we first stop drinking, this becomes a monumental feat in and of itself. As it should. I still wake up at times in my life and cannot believe that I ever made the decision to actually stop.
The OWN IT stage is not glamorous. It's likely one the most difficult in our recovery because the crutch is gone. We now stand on our own two sober legs...no excuses.
The OWN IT stage is so important because, I believe, it paves the way to our future emotional happiness.
The OWN IT stage is where we begin to act on all the promises we have made to ourselves when we decided to become sober. We've accepted the fact that our life was not going the way we wanted, and now we must own all the good and the bad.
This OWN IT stage has really been a doozie in terms of realizing how necessary it is to be emotionally responsible. I feel at times, particularly in the last few months, that being sober is no longer good enough. That really owning my actions and emotions is the key to growth. That accepting myself and who I am will only enhance the choice I made five years ago.
For example:
Now that I am sober, I still struggle to get myself to the point of total financial responsibility. Before, I blamed my inability to balance my checkbook on being a barfly. Today, I have to force myself to really look at my spending habits and the reasons behind them. It's not pretty, but I've denied it for so long that getting to the root of the problem is less stressful than continuing my struggle.
Now that I am sober, I can no longer deny those elements in my life that are harmful to myself and my well being. Before, I accepted blame and believed that I was the cause of many things beyond my control. Now, I find that I have to accept other people for who they are and what they can or cannot provide. This has caused me great sadness to realize and then some kind of emotional release when I realize that I cannot control everyone around me.
Now that I am sober, I understand that not everyone will believe me until my actions defer the belief. Before, I thought I was smarter than everyone. I truly believed that my intentions would suffice over actions. Now, I know that only actions can prove what I've long intended. This was a big one for me this year as I had people still believe I was the same person from years ago. Instead of vying for their approval, I've moved on and refocused on my own approval.
Now that I am sober, I have to take one step further. Before, I was sober and that was a great feat. Now, I realize that if I intend to graduate from the emotional responsibility academy, I have to take all the courses.
Today, as sobriety becomes more and more mainstreamed, I worry that it will become a quick fix. I worry that people will use it as an excuse for inexcusable behavior. I did for a long time in my sobriety. In reality, one can only focus on that euphoric feeling of doing good for ourselves for so long before reality sets back in. A reality that causes many people to go back to their old habits and life.
Becoming sober is the first step. Recovery is the process in which we heal. In which we learn to love ourselves again. Where we own up to our demons and resolve to be the person we've intended to be all along.
And in the last five years, I face this challenge every second of my life. I still battle between the person I was and the person I intend to be. I reach so high and sometimes I falter. I question my decision. I get angry at my past. It has become considerably more difficult this year...because I am suddenly faced with the reality that if I don't act on what I truly believe, my decision is for naught.
Yet, if I had to do it all again, I wouldn't change one aspect of my life. I am blown away that I have followed this path over the last five years. I am humbled by the people I meet and the inspiration I have seen. I am grateful for my life in every form, the good and the bad.
And I realize that denying myself the ability to really live life would be detrimental. I deserve all the wonderful and amazing things that have happened, because I am making them happen. I look at this stage of my recovery as a milestone in my emotional schooling. I am so eager to move on to the next grade level, but have to constantly remind myself to listen and pay attention to those elements that will allow me to fully appreciate the life that I am building.
So, another year, another stage. I have a strange sense of happiness underneath my cloak of questionability. I really am proud of where I am, but I am really excited to keep moving forward.
It's all a path.....and the flowers are just starting to bloom along the way.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Generic Letter Writing
So, I have spent the last 48 hours writing letters to people I will never send. And, it is amazing what you can get out when you know it's not actually going to the intended recipient.
If anyone has a letter they wish to post, send it to me and I'll anonymize and post it. It's really a wonderful act of cathartic babble and worth the psychoscribble.
For example:
Dear INSERT NAME HERE,
Thanks for all the ______ things you have done to me. You've made me feel like _____ and I just want you to know that I am better off with/without you. I hope you _______ and when you realize ________, it will be too late to apologize.
Best of luck, ___________.
Sincerely,
INSERT NAME HERE
My plan is to finish writing all of them (and I keep thinking of more and more people that have pissed me off over the years) and then having a ceremonial burning of the missives. I have found lately that letting go really is the only way to get rid of all the emotions that one wastes their energy on. And trying to count on people to understand your point of view doesn't always come to fruition.
Hence, the generic letter writing campaign.
creativerecovery@hotmail.com
If anyone has a letter they wish to post, send it to me and I'll anonymize and post it. It's really a wonderful act of cathartic babble and worth the psychoscribble.
For example:
Dear INSERT NAME HERE,
Thanks for all the ______ things you have done to me. You've made me feel like _____ and I just want you to know that I am better off with/without you. I hope you _______ and when you realize ________, it will be too late to apologize.
Best of luck, ___________.
Sincerely,
INSERT NAME HERE
My plan is to finish writing all of them (and I keep thinking of more and more people that have pissed me off over the years) and then having a ceremonial burning of the missives. I have found lately that letting go really is the only way to get rid of all the emotions that one wastes their energy on. And trying to count on people to understand your point of view doesn't always come to fruition.
Hence, the generic letter writing campaign.
creativerecovery@hotmail.com
Thursday, October 19, 2006
The truth.
The truth is...........
That my sobriety is my only consistent source of strength.
I am waiting for someone.
I am scared of the future.
I am scared of the present.
Everything in the world is going for me.
I have difficulty finding peace within myself.
I will....
Remind myself that sobriety is my honest endeavour.
Stop looking out the window for the one I love to return.
Look forward to the future.
Love the present.
Continue striving to be the best woman I can be.
Find peace within my heart.
That my sobriety is my only consistent source of strength.
I am waiting for someone.
I am scared of the future.
I am scared of the present.
Everything in the world is going for me.
I have difficulty finding peace within myself.
I will....
Remind myself that sobriety is my honest endeavour.
Stop looking out the window for the one I love to return.
Look forward to the future.
Love the present.
Continue striving to be the best woman I can be.
Find peace within my heart.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Monday, October 09, 2006
Thursday, August 24, 2006
I wish Sober was another word: A Rant.
There are many times in the last almost five years that I find myself trying to define the word sober. Sober. Sobriety. Not drinking. Recovery. Change in life.
The dictionary defines sober:
* Habitually abstemious in the use of alcoholic liquors or drugs; temperate.* Not intoxicated or affected by the use of drugs.* Plain or subdued: sober attire.* Devoid of frivolity, excess, exaggeration, or speculative imagination; straightforward: gave a sober assessment of the situation.* Marked by seriousness, gravity, or solemnity of conduct or character. See Synonyms at serious.* Marked by circumspection and self-restraint.
Self restraint? Devoid of excess or speculative imagination? The question arises in my own head....have I become boring and morose in my sober life? Have I become plagued with seriousness because I have chosen this path?In the last three years, I have also found myself having to defend and define my sober life. "Why don't you drink?" "What happened to make you stop?" "Are you WEIRD?" "YOU DON'T GO OUT?" "Have you no fun in your life?"
Well, I think to myself tirelessly, life is just different.What happened to make me cease drinking habitually for the majority of my young adult life? Well, I guess things were just not working the way I wanted. Nothing significant happened, per se. Yes, I hit bottom, but not in any spectacular fashion. I just got sober. I simply took out an element of my life that caused me pain. And now, I find that people have a difficult time grasping the concept.And when did I become so concerned about what people think?
Years ago, I could get drunk, stand on a bar and proclaim my love for Jimmy Buffett in song without skipping a beat. I could fall down the stairs at a restaurant and simply smile and say, "oopsie". But, we live in a world surrounded by alcoholic intentions. It's part of our society and part of the way we chose to socialize. Not a day goes by that does not include a reference to alcohol. And I accept that with the grace of a woman who has made a choice. But, damn it, it's still frustrating as hell.
I actually watch people watch me at parties. I see them double glancing at my martini glass making sure that there is nothing stronger than Diet Coke in my glass. And these people never knew me BEFORE! If they had, the would know that I rarely drank martinis. I play the part with little fanfare. I participate in the charade of the drinking world with my own sober theatrics. And when I arrive home to my bed, I collapse with the exhaustive sigh of someone in recovery. I have worked to make everyone feel comfortable for the choices I have made...and for a moment, I wish I could replace the word sober with some amazing adjective that would wipe away the stigma of my decisions. The stigma of all my past mistakes. . And yes, I wish I could replace sober with just about any other word in the English language.
And in all of these quandries, I sometimes find myself questioning my motives. Why am I really doing this? Meeting people that I never knew existed. Constantly searching for my own soapbox to stand on. My purpose. My MO. When before I was simply a woman with a drinking problem. I did not publicize my life on such a vehement scale. I was never a hippie, cause- related type of woman. I drank. I got drunk. I caused some drama and then went home to pass out.Now, things are different. I have made a choice that has changed my life. I will not change the fact that I am sober, so sober it is.
So, I have taken the liberty in redefining the word sober in my own glorified dicitonary:
sober (adj.): respect for one's own self. Self assured, self-aware and unconcerned with those people who just don't get the reasons for this journey.
And for those of you who drink, life on the other side is not bleak and weary. Blisters do not appear when in the presence of someone sober.
The dictionary defines sober:
* Habitually abstemious in the use of alcoholic liquors or drugs; temperate.* Not intoxicated or affected by the use of drugs.* Plain or subdued: sober attire.* Devoid of frivolity, excess, exaggeration, or speculative imagination; straightforward: gave a sober assessment of the situation.* Marked by seriousness, gravity, or solemnity of conduct or character. See Synonyms at serious.* Marked by circumspection and self-restraint.
Self restraint? Devoid of excess or speculative imagination? The question arises in my own head....have I become boring and morose in my sober life? Have I become plagued with seriousness because I have chosen this path?In the last three years, I have also found myself having to defend and define my sober life. "Why don't you drink?" "What happened to make you stop?" "Are you WEIRD?" "YOU DON'T GO OUT?" "Have you no fun in your life?"
Well, I think to myself tirelessly, life is just different.What happened to make me cease drinking habitually for the majority of my young adult life? Well, I guess things were just not working the way I wanted. Nothing significant happened, per se. Yes, I hit bottom, but not in any spectacular fashion. I just got sober. I simply took out an element of my life that caused me pain. And now, I find that people have a difficult time grasping the concept.And when did I become so concerned about what people think?
Years ago, I could get drunk, stand on a bar and proclaim my love for Jimmy Buffett in song without skipping a beat. I could fall down the stairs at a restaurant and simply smile and say, "oopsie". But, we live in a world surrounded by alcoholic intentions. It's part of our society and part of the way we chose to socialize. Not a day goes by that does not include a reference to alcohol. And I accept that with the grace of a woman who has made a choice. But, damn it, it's still frustrating as hell.
I actually watch people watch me at parties. I see them double glancing at my martini glass making sure that there is nothing stronger than Diet Coke in my glass. And these people never knew me BEFORE! If they had, the would know that I rarely drank martinis. I play the part with little fanfare. I participate in the charade of the drinking world with my own sober theatrics. And when I arrive home to my bed, I collapse with the exhaustive sigh of someone in recovery. I have worked to make everyone feel comfortable for the choices I have made...and for a moment, I wish I could replace the word sober with some amazing adjective that would wipe away the stigma of my decisions. The stigma of all my past mistakes. . And yes, I wish I could replace sober with just about any other word in the English language.
And in all of these quandries, I sometimes find myself questioning my motives. Why am I really doing this? Meeting people that I never knew existed. Constantly searching for my own soapbox to stand on. My purpose. My MO. When before I was simply a woman with a drinking problem. I did not publicize my life on such a vehement scale. I was never a hippie, cause- related type of woman. I drank. I got drunk. I caused some drama and then went home to pass out.Now, things are different. I have made a choice that has changed my life. I will not change the fact that I am sober, so sober it is.
So, I have taken the liberty in redefining the word sober in my own glorified dicitonary:
sober (adj.): respect for one's own self. Self assured, self-aware and unconcerned with those people who just don't get the reasons for this journey.
And for those of you who drink, life on the other side is not bleak and weary. Blisters do not appear when in the presence of someone sober.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Friday, June 30, 2006
Change of Heart.
Years ago, I married the love of my ripe-old-age-of-twenty five life. He stood before me, sobbing uncontrollably in front of a hundred or so of our friends and relatives. His love for me at the time was unwavering. He adored me. He loved me. I was his third wife.
I had been privy to all his faults and flaws prior to my tipsy nuptials. During our time as husband and wife, I was miserable but unable to let him go. I thought I knew what I wanted and tried to be a wife. Think, Martha Stewart meets the Jekyll and Hyde in female dossiers. I had no prior stable marriage model. My father was gone before I was seven and had his own bouts of infidelity. I was a young girl who married for love. Married without any knowledge of the work and commitment it takes to actually beat the odds of divorce. And I was blindsided because I loved him so very very much. Throw in the fact that we drank almost every night and you have a very volatile combination of emotions.
Soon after one hell of a wedding, my marriage began it's long demise. Infidelity. Abandonment. Lies. Love gone horribly wrong. And suddenly, I was an overweight, burned out advertising executive with a more serious drinking problem and baggage packed full of crap. All before my 27th birthday. When I came home and my husband was gone, I secretly wasn't surprised. However, I was crushed. My heart was broken because I had been abandoned by the one person I thought would keep me afloat in my faltering emotional life.
And the healing began at a snail's pace. I woke up. I got sober after fifteen years of drinking to excess. I began my writing career and soon became a published author. I was featured in Glamour, Marie Claire and had my art and writing splashed around the sobriety world. I returned slowly to the corporate world of advertising and rebuilt bridges that I had almost burned from scorned experience. And while I poured my heart onto my website about the trials and tribulations of my broken heart, I, again, secretly thought that the day would come that my betrothed and I would be reunited.
That day came about five years too late. Three weeks ago, I went to see him at his "home" with another woman and their child. His "home" sits upon the same sandy soil that I had spent my childhood with my father. My life was spent there, on a skydiving drop zone, with all the dysfunction and instability that you can only IMAGINE you'd want to live in. I had lived it in my youth and married it in my adult years. And here I was, five years removed from my ex and a world away from my childhood.
We embraced, we cried, we laughed. We walked the same steps that I had taken twenty five years prior. And during this time, I looked around the pictures and letters in his home that had remnants of where my life had once been. The people we knew and loved. The places we had been to. But it was different this time. I was no longer in the pictures. They were all part of a life that I no longer belonged to and I quickly saved myself and fled before the pain in my heart resurfaced. I was so proud of myself for letting go.
But, that admiration I felt for myself quickly turned to self deprecation. In the weeks leading, the promises got deeper.....All I would have to do was wait two years for him to take care of things in his present life and we could be married again in Big Sur, the place we had spent such a romantic time in our lives. In two years, he promised us a house, a new marriage and a family. In two years, we would have this reunion of spirits and live out the rest of our days together. And the letters, phone calls and subsequent meeting all pointed towards this life of complete bliss.
Yesterday, we sat in a park, not far from the ad agency I had returned to and the career that I had become so successful. Here he was, sitting in front of me telling me every single word and scenario that I had hoped and waited for over the last five years. Would I wait? Would I meet someone else? Wouldn't it be amazing to live the rest of my life with the man that I had held such a burning torch for all these years? My mind was spinning and it was no longer a dream, it was reality.
And reality always scares the hell out of me.
The sun began its long journey into dusk, I said goodbye to him and got on my train back to my real life two hours north of Manhattan. My dog, my love, my house, my friends. My life that no longer included him save the memories of our life together in a shoebox in my closet. The cobwebs had begun to emerge since the last time I had dragged out the box. I had someone else in my life that I had tried to love but was scared to death. I was moving on, slowly, unsteadily, but with half hearted conviction that I would be great and that the life I had chosen was the right path. My secret desires were no longer including him....but revealing where I wanted to be, who, when.
My heart aches. Not for him, but for myself. I have spent the last five years rebuilding my life. I have moved on with years of therapy, new men, new experiences. I have never found that love again, but I did find a great solace in knowing that I was living the life I should have. I was sober. I was in control. And I was becoming one hell of a woman.
And as I said goodbye, smiling and laughing and so happy to have had the hours I spent with him, I sat on my train looking at the river. And the tears started pouring from my eyes with relentless pain. How could I wait two years? How could he ask me to sacrifice two years of my life when he couldn't sacrifice one goddamn thing for me in the last ten years? How would I live with myself? How would I live blissfully happy after all the years of heartache I felt? Could I love him that much?
I cried. I cried. I cried some more. And suddenly it hit me like the storm on the river I was passing through. I had loved him so much. I had loved him more than anything, but I didn't love him more than myself. Now, I respect where I have been and where I am going. Now, I know what I deserve and need in my life. And I sat there in utter disbelief that I could be making such an observation. Had it suddenly clicked?
I was willing to take the emotional fall for the sake of this other woman and child. I would walk away silently and without consequence and hope to hell that he would patch up his life now, without me. I realized that I couldn't be the cause of someone else's heartache. I couldn't be personally responsible for this woman and child's loss. And I would not let the pain that was so familiar and detested creep into my heart again. It simply hurt too much and I had come too far in my life to revisit that emotional upheaval again.
Again, no matter how much I had loved him, I finally realized that I loved myself more. And in the technological age that we live, I sent him a text message saying just this and pressed send before I could falter.
And as I went up the river, towards my home, the storm began to pass.
I had been privy to all his faults and flaws prior to my tipsy nuptials. During our time as husband and wife, I was miserable but unable to let him go. I thought I knew what I wanted and tried to be a wife. Think, Martha Stewart meets the Jekyll and Hyde in female dossiers. I had no prior stable marriage model. My father was gone before I was seven and had his own bouts of infidelity. I was a young girl who married for love. Married without any knowledge of the work and commitment it takes to actually beat the odds of divorce. And I was blindsided because I loved him so very very much. Throw in the fact that we drank almost every night and you have a very volatile combination of emotions.
Soon after one hell of a wedding, my marriage began it's long demise. Infidelity. Abandonment. Lies. Love gone horribly wrong. And suddenly, I was an overweight, burned out advertising executive with a more serious drinking problem and baggage packed full of crap. All before my 27th birthday. When I came home and my husband was gone, I secretly wasn't surprised. However, I was crushed. My heart was broken because I had been abandoned by the one person I thought would keep me afloat in my faltering emotional life.
And the healing began at a snail's pace. I woke up. I got sober after fifteen years of drinking to excess. I began my writing career and soon became a published author. I was featured in Glamour, Marie Claire and had my art and writing splashed around the sobriety world. I returned slowly to the corporate world of advertising and rebuilt bridges that I had almost burned from scorned experience. And while I poured my heart onto my website about the trials and tribulations of my broken heart, I, again, secretly thought that the day would come that my betrothed and I would be reunited.
That day came about five years too late. Three weeks ago, I went to see him at his "home" with another woman and their child. His "home" sits upon the same sandy soil that I had spent my childhood with my father. My life was spent there, on a skydiving drop zone, with all the dysfunction and instability that you can only IMAGINE you'd want to live in. I had lived it in my youth and married it in my adult years. And here I was, five years removed from my ex and a world away from my childhood.
We embraced, we cried, we laughed. We walked the same steps that I had taken twenty five years prior. And during this time, I looked around the pictures and letters in his home that had remnants of where my life had once been. The people we knew and loved. The places we had been to. But it was different this time. I was no longer in the pictures. They were all part of a life that I no longer belonged to and I quickly saved myself and fled before the pain in my heart resurfaced. I was so proud of myself for letting go.
But, that admiration I felt for myself quickly turned to self deprecation. In the weeks leading, the promises got deeper.....All I would have to do was wait two years for him to take care of things in his present life and we could be married again in Big Sur, the place we had spent such a romantic time in our lives. In two years, he promised us a house, a new marriage and a family. In two years, we would have this reunion of spirits and live out the rest of our days together. And the letters, phone calls and subsequent meeting all pointed towards this life of complete bliss.
Yesterday, we sat in a park, not far from the ad agency I had returned to and the career that I had become so successful. Here he was, sitting in front of me telling me every single word and scenario that I had hoped and waited for over the last five years. Would I wait? Would I meet someone else? Wouldn't it be amazing to live the rest of my life with the man that I had held such a burning torch for all these years? My mind was spinning and it was no longer a dream, it was reality.
And reality always scares the hell out of me.
The sun began its long journey into dusk, I said goodbye to him and got on my train back to my real life two hours north of Manhattan. My dog, my love, my house, my friends. My life that no longer included him save the memories of our life together in a shoebox in my closet. The cobwebs had begun to emerge since the last time I had dragged out the box. I had someone else in my life that I had tried to love but was scared to death. I was moving on, slowly, unsteadily, but with half hearted conviction that I would be great and that the life I had chosen was the right path. My secret desires were no longer including him....but revealing where I wanted to be, who, when.
My heart aches. Not for him, but for myself. I have spent the last five years rebuilding my life. I have moved on with years of therapy, new men, new experiences. I have never found that love again, but I did find a great solace in knowing that I was living the life I should have. I was sober. I was in control. And I was becoming one hell of a woman.
And as I said goodbye, smiling and laughing and so happy to have had the hours I spent with him, I sat on my train looking at the river. And the tears started pouring from my eyes with relentless pain. How could I wait two years? How could he ask me to sacrifice two years of my life when he couldn't sacrifice one goddamn thing for me in the last ten years? How would I live with myself? How would I live blissfully happy after all the years of heartache I felt? Could I love him that much?
I cried. I cried. I cried some more. And suddenly it hit me like the storm on the river I was passing through. I had loved him so much. I had loved him more than anything, but I didn't love him more than myself. Now, I respect where I have been and where I am going. Now, I know what I deserve and need in my life. And I sat there in utter disbelief that I could be making such an observation. Had it suddenly clicked?
I was willing to take the emotional fall for the sake of this other woman and child. I would walk away silently and without consequence and hope to hell that he would patch up his life now, without me. I realized that I couldn't be the cause of someone else's heartache. I couldn't be personally responsible for this woman and child's loss. And I would not let the pain that was so familiar and detested creep into my heart again. It simply hurt too much and I had come too far in my life to revisit that emotional upheaval again.
Again, no matter how much I had loved him, I finally realized that I loved myself more. And in the technological age that we live, I sent him a text message saying just this and pressed send before I could falter.
And as I went up the river, towards my home, the storm began to pass.
Monday, May 08, 2006
Quote of the week.
"Chase after truth like hell and you'll free yourself, even though you never touch its coat-tails."
Clarence Darrow (1857 - 1938)
Clarence Darrow (1857 - 1938)
Monday, March 27, 2006
She let go.
"She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.
She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the 'right' reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.
She didn't ask anyone for advice. She didn't read a book on how to let go... She didn't search the scriptures. She just let go. She let go of all of the memories that held her back. She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward. She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.
She didn't promise to let go. She didn't journal about it. She didn't write the projected date in her Day-Timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn't check the weather report or read her daily horoscope. She just let go.
She didn't analyze whether she should let go. She didn't call her friends to discuss the matter. She didn't do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment. She didn't call the prayer line. She didn't utter one word. She just let go.
No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.
There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn't good and it wasn't bad. It was what it was, and it is just that.
In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore."
- Ernest Holmes
She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the 'right' reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.
She didn't ask anyone for advice. She didn't read a book on how to let go... She didn't search the scriptures. She just let go. She let go of all of the memories that held her back. She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward. She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.
She didn't promise to let go. She didn't journal about it. She didn't write the projected date in her Day-Timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn't check the weather report or read her daily horoscope. She just let go.
She didn't analyze whether she should let go. She didn't call her friends to discuss the matter. She didn't do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment. She didn't call the prayer line. She didn't utter one word. She just let go.
No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.
There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn't good and it wasn't bad. It was what it was, and it is just that.
In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore."
- Ernest Holmes
Monday, March 20, 2006
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Four Years.
Here I am, sitting in my office and suddenly it hit me. I mean, HIT ME. Today is my fourth year of being sober.
I frantically begin to try and recall all the moments I have had in the last years milestones; Year One, I threw myself a party. The second, I got the tattoo I had always wanted. The third, I spent mourning my former not so sober life. And in the blink of an eye, I am at year four.
At this milestone in my sobriety, I feel a great amount of appreciation for where I am. My past has become just that, my past. Life these days seem to be moments in which I am learning to appreciate the present in great stride.
I made a decision four years ago and every single day, I find myself reinforcing this decision in varying degrees:
I recall one moment this summer where I was ready to cash in all my sober chips for a reprieve from the emotion that sometimes overwhelm me.
Another moment this year, I sat on the porch of the house I shared with my former husband and cried for the time I had spent in such turmoil. And I mourned the loss of love gone bad.
One day, I cheerfully proclaimed that being sober was the best thing in life only to counter this proclamation a few hours later with a tirade about how horrible it is not to be able to drink.
A few weeks ago, I wept with joy because I had actually stuck to such a profound decision with tenacity. Something I would never had dreamed of years ago.
And that leads me to my four year milestone. The party was had, the token tattoo, the grief. Today, I will let this milestone pass without the hoopla (save for this post). It's another day in my life, one that I am grateful for and one that I am reminded of where I am in my life today.
Sobriety weaves in and out of the emotional fabric that makes up everyday life. Some days, I find snags. Other days, I find patterns I didn't know existed. It's all a mesh of moments, both good and bad, that I find keep my sobriety from become tattered. I appreciate the intricacies and continue to mend those holes that still exist.
So, today, I thank myself for every one of those moments in the past year that bring me to another milestone. I thank all the people I love, I've lost, I've forgiven. For all the moments this year, I am appreciative.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Grow Up.
I have this security blanket.
Not some figurative pyschobabble.
Not some beaming aura over my head.
Not some philosphical translsation.
I own a shredded, thirty one year old blanket that embodies Ragedy Ann and Andy patterns long since past its prime. I mean, I hate the thing. I despise it. It's tattered and torn and sits in my closet with pieces of string barely holding it together. There are times I pull it out to wonder why the hell I keep it. I mean, what am I doing with this thing? There is little, if any, resemblance to the gift someone had once given me as a newborn (I can only imagine, anyway).
Fluffy, newly cleaned smell that makes your heart jump as you bury your head in sumptuos pile?
I don't think so.
The batting-so-old-it-hurts-your-cheeck cloth that I secretly attach to myself in the midst of personal drama? UGH. The thing bothers the piss out of me.
And here I am, a thirty-one year old woman living with the past stuffed in my closet. Pathetic.
The blanket is sitting on the top shelf in the form of a 3x3 representation of my past. A memento from a man I barely remember. A piece of fabric that continues to haunt me and my need to keep it close. I keep it tucked away save the most secret moments that I hold on to a tiny shred of past life.
At some point, life has to go on. The blanket has come to represent what I cannot remember. Feelings, emotions, pieces of life that were woven in the material. Times where the blanket may have been wrapped tightly around me by others. No faces. No memories. Just the vaguest recollection of another era.
And now there is a sense of forboding I feel just looking at it. It stares me down every morning as if to say, "Grow up and get on with your life". This piece of innocent tailorship is the epitome of my baggage in the most domestic form: My inability to come to terms with the loss of my father. My penchant for emotional toil and needless suffering. My constant state of recovery from just about everything addictive, drama included.
Tattered lives. Ragged edges. Softness shredded by such self propeled emotional wear and tear. It makes me angry. I loathe the sight of it. It's the bad relationship I have been looking to end. Over. Kaputz. Ciao. This part of my life that I have been SO ready to let go.
And the time has come to let go of keeping the skeletons warm. Life goes on. When we gain our own integrity, the security comes from life now, not some tattered shred of the past.
Grow-up time. Let go time. Burn Baby Burn time. Screw airing, the time has come to throw out the dirty laundry.
Not some figurative pyschobabble.
Not some beaming aura over my head.
Not some philosphical translsation.
I own a shredded, thirty one year old blanket that embodies Ragedy Ann and Andy patterns long since past its prime. I mean, I hate the thing. I despise it. It's tattered and torn and sits in my closet with pieces of string barely holding it together. There are times I pull it out to wonder why the hell I keep it. I mean, what am I doing with this thing? There is little, if any, resemblance to the gift someone had once given me as a newborn (I can only imagine, anyway).
Fluffy, newly cleaned smell that makes your heart jump as you bury your head in sumptuos pile?
I don't think so.
The batting-so-old-it-hurts-your-cheeck cloth that I secretly attach to myself in the midst of personal drama? UGH. The thing bothers the piss out of me.
And here I am, a thirty-one year old woman living with the past stuffed in my closet. Pathetic.
The blanket is sitting on the top shelf in the form of a 3x3 representation of my past. A memento from a man I barely remember. A piece of fabric that continues to haunt me and my need to keep it close. I keep it tucked away save the most secret moments that I hold on to a tiny shred of past life.
At some point, life has to go on. The blanket has come to represent what I cannot remember. Feelings, emotions, pieces of life that were woven in the material. Times where the blanket may have been wrapped tightly around me by others. No faces. No memories. Just the vaguest recollection of another era.
And now there is a sense of forboding I feel just looking at it. It stares me down every morning as if to say, "Grow up and get on with your life". This piece of innocent tailorship is the epitome of my baggage in the most domestic form: My inability to come to terms with the loss of my father. My penchant for emotional toil and needless suffering. My constant state of recovery from just about everything addictive, drama included.
Tattered lives. Ragged edges. Softness shredded by such self propeled emotional wear and tear. It makes me angry. I loathe the sight of it. It's the bad relationship I have been looking to end. Over. Kaputz. Ciao. This part of my life that I have been SO ready to let go.
And the time has come to let go of keeping the skeletons warm. Life goes on. When we gain our own integrity, the security comes from life now, not some tattered shred of the past.
Grow-up time. Let go time. Burn Baby Burn time. Screw airing, the time has come to throw out the dirty laundry.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Emotional Responsibility.
Responsibility seems to be the buzzword in life lately. Yes, being responsible entails going to work, taking care of ourselves, paying bills on time, making sure the dog is fed.
I find that making sure that the bills are paid is getting easier. Feeding the dog is necessary. Getting up and going to work is a given (though I am still always prone to think about picking up the phone when it's a beautiful day out and calling in sick, something that I don't even do anymore). But, when it comes to emotional responsibility, that requires more attention.
Emotional responsibility is one of those gray areas. We are accountable for our actions. We are responsible to ourselves and in turn, we are able to give ourselves more freely to others. When we are wrong, we should admit it, without excuses or blame. Many times we take responsibility for other people's actions so that we do not have to focus on our own. I know that I have taken on many circumstances in my life that did not belong to me. I did not have the ability to create necessary healthy boundaries to enable relationships to grow. I simply took on someone else or someone's issues and made them my own. This, along with undue stress, caused me to expend far too much energy in places I had no business.
Two days ago I realized that I am becoming more emotionally responsible each day. I let go of anger and rationalize. I think more before I react. I try to speak from reason and not from the seat of my pants. And in turn, I feel as if I have taken small steps forward in my own process. I own up to my emotions and try to be completely honest. Something that was always inconsistent.
It's a difficult process, however. Personally speaking, I had spent years shunning responsibility on a whole for the easy road. I skated through life blaming and speaking about change without ever really changing. I stopped drinking, yes, but the issues and emotions that came with that eventually overwhelmed me to the point of several confrontations and conflicts within myself.
I have accepted the fact that I may be emotionally challenged at times, but I am far from irresponsible. I understand what I am able to control what I am solely responsible for. And, I make mistakes. I falter occasionally. We all do.
I look at my emotional life in terms of a bank account these days (and why wouldn't I? I didn't have a bank account for almost four years because of my prior actions and now I have those silly checks with cartoons again). I have gotten out of emotional debt and am now working on replenishing my "savings" account. While I still worry about bouncing "emotional" checks, I've allowed myself some overdraft protection. I save, I spend, but I keep it as balanced as possible.
Last night, my love gave me one of the best unsolicited comments of our relationship yet. He said, "You are doing really well. Doing instead of talking". He also reminded me that it's okay that it's not perfect. That I am allowed to ask for help when balancing my emotional checkbook.
And to me, that again solidifies my need to be honest with myself. It's easier than blame. It allows me to contain my own life and do what's best for me, and in turn, continue to do what's best for those I love.
I find that making sure that the bills are paid is getting easier. Feeding the dog is necessary. Getting up and going to work is a given (though I am still always prone to think about picking up the phone when it's a beautiful day out and calling in sick, something that I don't even do anymore). But, when it comes to emotional responsibility, that requires more attention.
Emotional responsibility is one of those gray areas. We are accountable for our actions. We are responsible to ourselves and in turn, we are able to give ourselves more freely to others. When we are wrong, we should admit it, without excuses or blame. Many times we take responsibility for other people's actions so that we do not have to focus on our own. I know that I have taken on many circumstances in my life that did not belong to me. I did not have the ability to create necessary healthy boundaries to enable relationships to grow. I simply took on someone else or someone's issues and made them my own. This, along with undue stress, caused me to expend far too much energy in places I had no business.
Two days ago I realized that I am becoming more emotionally responsible each day. I let go of anger and rationalize. I think more before I react. I try to speak from reason and not from the seat of my pants. And in turn, I feel as if I have taken small steps forward in my own process. I own up to my emotions and try to be completely honest. Something that was always inconsistent.
It's a difficult process, however. Personally speaking, I had spent years shunning responsibility on a whole for the easy road. I skated through life blaming and speaking about change without ever really changing. I stopped drinking, yes, but the issues and emotions that came with that eventually overwhelmed me to the point of several confrontations and conflicts within myself.
I have accepted the fact that I may be emotionally challenged at times, but I am far from irresponsible. I understand what I am able to control what I am solely responsible for. And, I make mistakes. I falter occasionally. We all do.
I look at my emotional life in terms of a bank account these days (and why wouldn't I? I didn't have a bank account for almost four years because of my prior actions and now I have those silly checks with cartoons again). I have gotten out of emotional debt and am now working on replenishing my "savings" account. While I still worry about bouncing "emotional" checks, I've allowed myself some overdraft protection. I save, I spend, but I keep it as balanced as possible.
Last night, my love gave me one of the best unsolicited comments of our relationship yet. He said, "You are doing really well. Doing instead of talking". He also reminded me that it's okay that it's not perfect. That I am allowed to ask for help when balancing my emotional checkbook.
And to me, that again solidifies my need to be honest with myself. It's easier than blame. It allows me to contain my own life and do what's best for me, and in turn, continue to do what's best for those I love.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
A long time coming....
It's hard to believe that in two months, I have put aside my sobriety for what I considered to be "life". I spent time finding a new job, spending time with my dog and saying that "tomorrow I would blog".
Tomorrow turned into days and weeks and suddenly, months. I started to lose sight of my sobriety. Though I haven't touched alcohol in almost four years, I lapsed into laziness. My focus was blurred by my need to what many people deem normal.
Normal doesn't cut it for someone in recovery. We battle self esteem issues. We strive to please everyone but ourselves at times. There's insecurity, issues trusting ourselves and the fundamental need to uncover the truth that lies within us.
And on top of that, I believe that we are challenged to be brutally honest with ourselves. And that honesty, I have found in the last two months, is sometimes painful and difficult to comprehend.
Those are the standard issues. There is also that perpetual monkey on our backs trying to coax one back into a life of irresponsiblity. And why not? It's easy. We can avoid the truth and skate through life. We can hurt those we love, leave them and never take responsiblity for it. Life as an active alcoholic allows us the freedom to lie and deceive those in our lives. It forces us to focus on everything but ourselves, the one element that needs the most attention.
This battle between life as it was and life as it is has really struck me in the last few months, as situations have forced me to put life into perspective. My reserves that I once drew upon were no longer sufficent. My morality, my character and my integrity almost became compromised at the hand of another's insecurity. I allowed myself to believe that maybe sobriety wasn't the way to go. That simply not drinking would suffice. And in the midst of this, I was trying to start a new job, new relationship and another chapter of my life.
And as I stared at a bottle of gin not too long ago, I knew that I had to begin the process of replenishing my emotional strength. I knew that if I continued to demoralize myself, to hurt myself by not living as fully as I am capable, that I would be back to a time four years prior. My drinking dreams weaved in and out of my nights. I cried for loss. I woke up panic striken that I would pick up a drink again to numb the pain I felt. I lashed out at the one man who took the time to understand me. All for the romantic notion that I could one day drink again.
So, in some ways, I feel like I am back on my path with baby steps this time. Perhaps not so much gusto, but goals and aspirations that befit my needs. That everything is not within my control and there will always be people who do not believe in change. There will also be a time where I may not be comfortable with the decision that I have made, but nonetheless, I have made a solid committment to myself and to those who continue to show love and support.
And I renew that committment to myself and my sobriety. The truth that lies within me has been in the works for many years. The road that I have put myself on remains rocky but passable.
And I have the honesty and strength that I thought to be nonexistent.
So, sobriety continues. Life continues. There are no straight answers, but many questions that will have to be put to rest for the time being. And I walk on, leaving the insecurity and negativity behind.
Tomorrow turned into days and weeks and suddenly, months. I started to lose sight of my sobriety. Though I haven't touched alcohol in almost four years, I lapsed into laziness. My focus was blurred by my need to what many people deem normal.
Normal doesn't cut it for someone in recovery. We battle self esteem issues. We strive to please everyone but ourselves at times. There's insecurity, issues trusting ourselves and the fundamental need to uncover the truth that lies within us.
And on top of that, I believe that we are challenged to be brutally honest with ourselves. And that honesty, I have found in the last two months, is sometimes painful and difficult to comprehend.
Those are the standard issues. There is also that perpetual monkey on our backs trying to coax one back into a life of irresponsiblity. And why not? It's easy. We can avoid the truth and skate through life. We can hurt those we love, leave them and never take responsiblity for it. Life as an active alcoholic allows us the freedom to lie and deceive those in our lives. It forces us to focus on everything but ourselves, the one element that needs the most attention.
This battle between life as it was and life as it is has really struck me in the last few months, as situations have forced me to put life into perspective. My reserves that I once drew upon were no longer sufficent. My morality, my character and my integrity almost became compromised at the hand of another's insecurity. I allowed myself to believe that maybe sobriety wasn't the way to go. That simply not drinking would suffice. And in the midst of this, I was trying to start a new job, new relationship and another chapter of my life.
And as I stared at a bottle of gin not too long ago, I knew that I had to begin the process of replenishing my emotional strength. I knew that if I continued to demoralize myself, to hurt myself by not living as fully as I am capable, that I would be back to a time four years prior. My drinking dreams weaved in and out of my nights. I cried for loss. I woke up panic striken that I would pick up a drink again to numb the pain I felt. I lashed out at the one man who took the time to understand me. All for the romantic notion that I could one day drink again.
So, in some ways, I feel like I am back on my path with baby steps this time. Perhaps not so much gusto, but goals and aspirations that befit my needs. That everything is not within my control and there will always be people who do not believe in change. There will also be a time where I may not be comfortable with the decision that I have made, but nonetheless, I have made a solid committment to myself and to those who continue to show love and support.
And I renew that committment to myself and my sobriety. The truth that lies within me has been in the works for many years. The road that I have put myself on remains rocky but passable.
And I have the honesty and strength that I thought to be nonexistent.
So, sobriety continues. Life continues. There are no straight answers, but many questions that will have to be put to rest for the time being. And I walk on, leaving the insecurity and negativity behind.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Quote of the Week.
"When you love someone all your saved-up wishes start coming out."
-Elizabeth Bowen
-Elizabeth Bowen
Thursday, August 11, 2005
To My Old Friend.
With your grandeur, you see me
Flaxen hair flowing in the wind
Glaring eyes fixated on the world
Once nimble body riddled with the weight of the world
With your tenacity, you challenge me
Biting daggers that sink into supple skin
Flailing thoughts that overshadow reason
Once brilliant mind erroneously rotted
With your boisterous voice, you call me
Shrill notes that burn off the tongue
Gauging words that pierce the unconscious
Once copious soliloquies lay unspoken
With your unyielding stride, you chase me
Oppressive feet that command attention
Twisting steps that wring my very core
Once light as a breeze now still
With your impetuous soul, you leave me
Billowed body sailing through the trees
Floating, floating, floating
Omnipotence traversing above me
With my renewed strength, you left me
Journeying into the unknown
Leaving the shell behind
To repose my own natural instincts
Watching you become smaller
Watching you become less present
I wave goodbye, my friend
I wave goodbye, myself
Flaxen hair flowing in the wind
Glaring eyes fixated on the world
Once nimble body riddled with the weight of the world
With your tenacity, you challenge me
Biting daggers that sink into supple skin
Flailing thoughts that overshadow reason
Once brilliant mind erroneously rotted
With your boisterous voice, you call me
Shrill notes that burn off the tongue
Gauging words that pierce the unconscious
Once copious soliloquies lay unspoken
With your unyielding stride, you chase me
Oppressive feet that command attention
Twisting steps that wring my very core
Once light as a breeze now still
With your impetuous soul, you leave me
Billowed body sailing through the trees
Floating, floating, floating
Omnipotence traversing above me
With my renewed strength, you left me
Journeying into the unknown
Leaving the shell behind
To repose my own natural instincts
Watching you become smaller
Watching you become less present
I wave goodbye, my friend
I wave goodbye, myself
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Crossroads.
Many times in life, many times in sobriety we hit crossroads in our lives. How do we define them within our own lives? How do we decide which way to go?
I pose these questions because I have hit a major crossroad in my life. Which way I am going. Is this the right path? Will the path I chose be in my best interest as a sober woman?
Right before my sobriety, I left a fairly lucrative job. I left my macrocosm and began to weave myself tightly into a secure web. I surrounded myself with support. I left friends, lovers, and acquaintances behind. I brought my life down to a manageable scale. This enabled me to live well. To live sober. I became a large fish in a small pond. I took turns in my life I had no idea existed. I painted. I wrote. I lived through my sobriety with commanding grace and awareness. Yet, through this growth, I suddenly realized that I missed the largeness in my life. I decided I wanted to become a big fish in a big pond. And succeed where I had succeeded before. This time, sober.
And now, here I stand. At a professional and personal crossroad. My life is full. My sobriety has become part of my skin, my beauty in life. Yet, I feel as if my big world is enticing me to return.. Take bigger risks. Go back into a profession I deeply loved. Return to a world I only knew when drinking. And return sober.
Am I strong enough to return back to the pace I kept, the largeness I once embraced while drinking with now sober arms? Can I maintain the integrity and passion I feel for sobriety? Can I walk down this path with new steps?
How do we as sober women deal with the crossroads in our lives? The major decisions that help define our everyday lives? How do we successfully pick the right path without jeopardizing the time we’ve spent securing the road we are on?
I pose these questions because I have hit a major crossroad in my life. Which way I am going. Is this the right path? Will the path I chose be in my best interest as a sober woman?
Right before my sobriety, I left a fairly lucrative job. I left my macrocosm and began to weave myself tightly into a secure web. I surrounded myself with support. I left friends, lovers, and acquaintances behind. I brought my life down to a manageable scale. This enabled me to live well. To live sober. I became a large fish in a small pond. I took turns in my life I had no idea existed. I painted. I wrote. I lived through my sobriety with commanding grace and awareness. Yet, through this growth, I suddenly realized that I missed the largeness in my life. I decided I wanted to become a big fish in a big pond. And succeed where I had succeeded before. This time, sober.
And now, here I stand. At a professional and personal crossroad. My life is full. My sobriety has become part of my skin, my beauty in life. Yet, I feel as if my big world is enticing me to return.. Take bigger risks. Go back into a profession I deeply loved. Return to a world I only knew when drinking. And return sober.
Am I strong enough to return back to the pace I kept, the largeness I once embraced while drinking with now sober arms? Can I maintain the integrity and passion I feel for sobriety? Can I walk down this path with new steps?
How do we as sober women deal with the crossroads in our lives? The major decisions that help define our everyday lives? How do we successfully pick the right path without jeopardizing the time we’ve spent securing the road we are on?
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Quote of the week.
Listen to the silence in between the sounds. And you will greatly improve your understanding of all that you hear.
Experience the stillness in between your thoughts. And your thoughts will have greater power, greater meaning, greater purpose.
Give just as much care and attention to the relaxation between the efforts as you do to the actual efforts. And those efforts will become immensely more effective.
When life gets too far out of balance, it cannot continue on that same path for very long. When the noise, the frenzy and the striving seem overwhelming, direct your focus to the silence, the stillness, the time for relaxation.
Give your awareness not only to the things that demand it. Give your awareness also to the quiet, peaceful stillness from which those things arise.
In between the sounds, in between the thoughts, in between the efforts, the sights, the complexities and the activities, there is much treasure to be found. In between the demands of the outer world, is the inner substance to keep you going.
-- Ralph Marston (www.dailymotivator.com)
Monday, July 11, 2005
The Game.
Unable to decide between what is right
And what is wrong
Without parameters
Without definition
I ask for help.
I ask for directions as to how to play this horrible game
That I did not ask to play
Quickly, I am chastised.
Confronted and ready.
For questioning the unwritten rules.
And I falter emotionally.
I am confused.
I am concerned.
I hold fast to this newfound honesty.
I will remain faithful to those I love.
And my love for them is deep.
But, I wonder,
Does this game ever end?
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Quote of the week.
"The real questions are the ones that obtrude upon your consciousness whether you like it or not, the ones that make your mind start vibrating like a jackhammer, the ones that you "come to terms with" only to discover that they are still there. The real questions refuse to be placated. They barge into your life at the times when it seems most important for them to stay away. They are the questions asked most frequently and answered most inadequately, the ones that reveal their true natures slowly, reluctantly, most often against your will."
-Ingrid Bengis
-Ingrid Bengis
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
A moment that changed my tears.
Yesterday, I drove home crying.
I was sad.
I was distraught about life.
Yesterday, the phone kept ringing.
My mother, my friend.
Chattering, chattering, chattering.
While I was consumed with my life.
Yesterday, I sat with a friend.
I was venting.
I was hurting.
I talked his ear off.
Yesterday, the phone rang again.
It was my friend’s mother.
His father had shot himself.
Silence.
One single moment.
Yesterday, I realized,
My worries were no longer significant.
My tears fell quickly for someone else.
Yesterday, he would change.
His father’s life,
Was more significant than the problems
I thought were important.
Yesterday, I sat in silence
As my friend left for his impending doom.
Yesterday, I cried for someone other than myself.
For the first time in five years, I looked to the sky,
And prayed for life.
I was sad.
I was distraught about life.
Yesterday, the phone kept ringing.
My mother, my friend.
Chattering, chattering, chattering.
While I was consumed with my life.
Yesterday, I sat with a friend.
I was venting.
I was hurting.
I talked his ear off.
Yesterday, the phone rang again.
It was my friend’s mother.
His father had shot himself.
Silence.
One single moment.
Yesterday, I realized,
My worries were no longer significant.
My tears fell quickly for someone else.
Yesterday, he would change.
His father’s life,
Was more significant than the problems
I thought were important.
Yesterday, I sat in silence
As my friend left for his impending doom.
Yesterday, I cried for someone other than myself.
For the first time in five years, I looked to the sky,
And prayed for life.
Monday, June 27, 2005
A Letter.
Dear Life,
I am writing to apologize for neglecting you for the last few years. I am sorry that I have sat on the sideline and watched you go by as I sit in my own frenzy of overcommitment, emotional upheaval and dramatic intervals. So many times, I've missed you. So many times, I've wondered what it would be like to know you again. But, I've had my reasons to keep my distance. I had to go inside of myself and find out why I was put here to begin with.
In the last three years, I've needed the break. Being alone, being a spectator instead of a mad participant has given me the appreciation I once lacked. I now know how important you are to me.
You are the one relationship I cannot ignore. You are the one relationship that I must strive to have consistently in my everyday routine. And you are the one thing I can count on everyday.
So, I am ready to return to the land of the living. I am ready to participate with an open mind and an open heart.
I hope you are ready to jump back in and let me show you who I've become and how much I've changed. I do love you with such passion and zeal, that I couldn't be me without you.
Love,
Kim
I am writing to apologize for neglecting you for the last few years. I am sorry that I have sat on the sideline and watched you go by as I sit in my own frenzy of overcommitment, emotional upheaval and dramatic intervals. So many times, I've missed you. So many times, I've wondered what it would be like to know you again. But, I've had my reasons to keep my distance. I had to go inside of myself and find out why I was put here to begin with.
In the last three years, I've needed the break. Being alone, being a spectator instead of a mad participant has given me the appreciation I once lacked. I now know how important you are to me.
You are the one relationship I cannot ignore. You are the one relationship that I must strive to have consistently in my everyday routine. And you are the one thing I can count on everyday.
So, I am ready to return to the land of the living. I am ready to participate with an open mind and an open heart.
I hope you are ready to jump back in and let me show you who I've become and how much I've changed. I do love you with such passion and zeal, that I couldn't be me without you.
Love,
Kim
Friday, June 24, 2005
In one fleeting moment...
I grew a set of balls.
I decided to grab strength and fly solo.
I let go.
I became THAT woman.
and now...
I am ready.
Monday, June 20, 2005
Quote of the week.
"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."
-Mahatma Gandhi
-Mahatma Gandhi
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Walking in Sober Shoes.
So, I no longer need the ridiculous culmination of my early recovery. I'm over it. Shoes are shoes and my dog eats most of them anyway. So, if anyone is looking for gently used size 9US Jimmy Choos, let me know, they are still in the box. I have my own pair that have grown into the perfect fit.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
The Four Agreements.
I had to add this to the blogroll. I read this book about three years ago and still use these agreements today:
From the Four Agreements-
Everything we do is based on agreements we have made. In these agreements we tell
ourselves who we are, what everyone else is, how to act, what is possible, and
what is impossible. What we have agreed to believe creates what we experience.
When these agreements come from fear, blocks and obstacles develop keeping us from realizing our greatest potential.
Based on ancient Toltec wisdom , the Four Agreements offer a powerful code of
conduct that can rapidly transform our lives and our work into a new experience of effectiveness, balance and self supporting behavior.
DON'T TAKE ANYTHING PERSONALLY
Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering.
DON'T MAKE ASSUMPTIONS
Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want.
Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness, and dram With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.
ALWAYS DO YOUR BEST
Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgement, self-abuse, and regret.
The Four Agreements Site
From the Four Agreements-
Everything we do is based on agreements we have made. In these agreements we tell
ourselves who we are, what everyone else is, how to act, what is possible, and
what is impossible. What we have agreed to believe creates what we experience.
When these agreements come from fear, blocks and obstacles develop keeping us from realizing our greatest potential.
Based on ancient Toltec wisdom , the Four Agreements offer a powerful code of
conduct that can rapidly transform our lives and our work into a new experience of effectiveness, balance and self supporting behavior.
BE IMPECCABLE WITH YOUR WORD
Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.
Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.
DON'T TAKE ANYTHING PERSONALLY
Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering.
DON'T MAKE ASSUMPTIONS
Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want.
Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness, and dram With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.
ALWAYS DO YOUR BEST
Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgement, self-abuse, and regret.
The Four Agreements Site
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Love.
"To fall in love is easy, even to remain in it is not difficult; our human loneliness is cause enough. But it is a hard quest worth making to find a comrade through whose steady presence one becomes steadily the person one desires to be."
-Anna Louise Strong
Today, I realize that I appreciate the love that I have in my life. Whether it be distant love, love that surrounds me or love that has evolved into other forms. It's all love. And for that, I am grateful. And even in the face of adversity, love helps me to get through life. And in the wake of happiness, I live.
-Anna Louise Strong
Today, I realize that I appreciate the love that I have in my life. Whether it be distant love, love that surrounds me or love that has evolved into other forms. It's all love. And for that, I am grateful. And even in the face of adversity, love helps me to get through life. And in the wake of happiness, I live.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Letting Go.
"She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.
She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the 'right' reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.
She didn't ask anyone for advice. She didn't read a book on how to let go... She didn't search the scriptures. She just let go. She let go of all of the memories that held her back. She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward. She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.
She didn't promise to let go. She didn't journal about it. She didn't write the projected date in her Day-Timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn't check the weather report or read her daily horoscope. She just let go.
She didn't analyze whether she should let go. She didn't call her friends to discuss the matter. She didn't do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment. She didn't call the prayer line. She didn't utter one word. She just let go.
No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.
There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn't good and it wasn't bad. It was what it was, and it is just that.
In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore."
She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the 'right' reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.
She didn't ask anyone for advice. She didn't read a book on how to let go... She didn't search the scriptures. She just let go. She let go of all of the memories that held her back. She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward. She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.
She didn't promise to let go. She didn't journal about it. She didn't write the projected date in her Day-Timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn't check the weather report or read her daily horoscope. She just let go.
She didn't analyze whether she should let go. She didn't call her friends to discuss the matter. She didn't do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment. She didn't call the prayer line. She didn't utter one word. She just let go.
No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.
There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn't good and it wasn't bad. It was what it was, and it is just that.
In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore."
- Ernest Holmes
Monday, June 06, 2005
Prince Charming or someone like that.
“The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved - loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves”.
-Victor Hugo
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Boundaries.
A friend of mine has a great website on boundaries that I revisit often in life. Setting boundaries simply allows a person to let go of what they cannot control and become more aware of what is within us, both good and bad.
After three years of being public with my recovery on-line and in the world (see Glamour, December 2004), it still surprises me that when I visit the statistics on my website and blogs, I realize there are certain people who visit everyday (especially the AOL ones that are visiting several times a day). Every week, there are more and more people who look on my sites for information. And sometimes, it's scary. It makes me rethink my position on being so public with my recovery. And then, I reread my own personal goals and boundaries that I have set for myself and I know that I speak from my heart. And sharing and writing is something that is very honest to me. We can only do what we know and hope that we learn more everyday in life. And we learn from other people. We learn from mistakes. We learn from crossing boundaries and creating them. We learn from being the person we were meant to be and knowing that this may not sit well with everyone, there are so many people who benefit from sharing in life.
And with that, we are able to let go of fear and keep writing and writing and writing.
After three years of being public with my recovery on-line and in the world (see Glamour, December 2004), it still surprises me that when I visit the statistics on my website and blogs, I realize there are certain people who visit everyday (especially the AOL ones that are visiting several times a day). Every week, there are more and more people who look on my sites for information. And sometimes, it's scary. It makes me rethink my position on being so public with my recovery. And then, I reread my own personal goals and boundaries that I have set for myself and I know that I speak from my heart. And sharing and writing is something that is very honest to me. We can only do what we know and hope that we learn more everyday in life. And we learn from other people. We learn from mistakes. We learn from crossing boundaries and creating them. We learn from being the person we were meant to be and knowing that this may not sit well with everyone, there are so many people who benefit from sharing in life.
And with that, we are able to let go of fear and keep writing and writing and writing.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Quote of the week.
Sticks and stones are hard on bones
Aimed with angry art,
Words can sting like anything
But silence breaks the heart.
~Suzanne Nichols
Aimed with angry art,
Words can sting like anything
But silence breaks the heart.
~Suzanne Nichols
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