sober lifestyle


Forgive me if I play the blame game here, but I just can’t accept that my absolutely 💩💩-y attitude this week has been due to my being an actual 💩💩-y person.

It has to be side effects from the mental health medication and the hormonal 💩💩-show of middle-aged menstruation, topped with a liberal sprinkling of work stress, that’s making me a snarling, feral beast who wants to eat the face of every human I encounter — in person or virtually (especially virtually) — and smash to bits every inanimate object that doesn’t fully and immediately cooperate with my efforts to open, move or operate it (I’m 👀 at YOU, broken washing machine), and who is currently sitting here flinging 💩💩 at strangers on the internet.

I’m also sitting here with 425 days of sobriety, and while that’s notable, I think it’s clear that it does not make me a shiny, happy person able to deftly handle her 💩💩. (Ok, I’ll stop with the poop.)

I went on my weekly Zoom recovery meeting, video turned off so no one could see my bitter, sulky facial contortions, and confessed to “hating everything and everyone right now” and “not wanting to be here,” and while “hate” is indeed a poor choice of words, that was me actually trying to hold back. So as not to offend! Truth be told, when I went to share, about 20 minutes into the meeting, I contemplated hitting the “leave” button instead of the little mic to un-mute. Just, you know, 🤬 this! I’m out!

So, you get the picture. It’s ugly. I’m acting c*nty, and I own it.

Now what?

As I noted in an Instagram post I wrote on Thursday morning to accompany the attached pic, after I’d just given myself a stern talking-to on the drive in to my office in Bristol, this…STUFF (😉) is the real nitty-gritty hard work of living sober. It’s the being completely out of sorts, being painfully uncomfortable, for whatever reason or combination of reasons, and figuring out how to push through without self-destructing. It’s finding the strength to walk through the valleys, or keep on climbing toward the next peak, without looking for a crutch to lean on.

It’s knowing that anything you would reach for externally, as a temporary salve for the gaping, festering wound that sometimes day-to-day life can be, will not save you from this pain and discomfort. Alcohol, drugs, caffeine, food, social media, sex, shopping…it’s all a distraction from the truth. It’s delaying the inevitable.

As Uncle Ellis says in “No Country For Old Men” — my Random Pop Culture Reference of the Week (RPCRW) — you can’t stop what’s coming.

You have to face yourself — your ugly, c*unty, restless, hormonal, so-full-of-💩💩-your-eyes-are-turning-brown (sorry; it just works there) self — if you want to reach your potential as a person and live a fulfilling life. This is only the first step — literally, it’s The First Step — and what happens after that is a whole other long, rough journey. But if you refuse to face yourself and keep running away when things get hairy, you’ll never truly get anywhere.

It’s within you to turn your negativity into productivity. No one or no thing can do it for you.

Especially if you eat their face off/smash them to bits…or hit “leave meeting” before they even have a chance to show you love and support. 😏

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