When I walked into AA almost 10 years ago (in my cowboy boots and jeans, hair pulled back neatly into a ponytail, with a Big Book in hand, because I like to be valedictorian of everything), I was willing to show up. And that was about it.
Moving pushes all my buttons. For real--uncertainty and WAITING? I suck at those. But I'm doing it. And that's growth.
The first rule of getting sober: do not pick up that first drink. Not for any reason. Then get to work on you. Because you've got this moment of grace--and you damn well better use it.
LOTS of cleaning happening around these parts lately. And not like the tidying up kind. It's the get on your hands and knees and scrub the baseboards and the floors kind of cleaning.
When I walked up into Alcoholics Anonymous in my cowboy boots, feeling mighty superior, I had my script firmly in hand. I was a smart, sensitive, tragic victim. The world simply couldn't understand someone as deeply empathic and intuitive as I was. So, I drank to shield myself from the tragedy of the every day as it unfolded around me.
When I stared freaking out earlier this week, I got scared. Scared because something that looked perfect wound up not being perfect at all. Scared because I started getting all in my head about what I lacked--instead of celebrating what I have. Scared because I felt down.
I don't have a really good "rock bottom" story. I'd finished all my real theatrical drinking a few years before. By the time I reckoned with my alcoholism, I didn't even want to drink any more. I'd exhausted myself with the constant hiding, the blame shifting, the lies I told myself--and whoever else needed telling. I was functioning fine, I suppose, but certainly not living my best life (unless my best life consisted of being able to pound back 12 Miller Lites in one sitting, but somehow I doubted it).
42 things about me... about life, infertility, parenthood, LGBTQ stuff, sobriety, and coffee (of course!)
7 years ago, I couldn't even manage to go out and get COFFEE with my friend who visited this weekend. I mean, it's true that she's kind of infinitely cool. I'm totally not. But anxiety is more than being afraid someone won't like you... it's a fear of being seen that is so deep, and so horrifying, that running away feels like the only answer, even when what you desire most is connection.