jenwielgusjournalism

Illumination 💡

December 3, 2020December 4, 2020 jenwielgusjournalism

I guffawed when my husband showed me the four packages of bold-colored Christmas bulbs he bought to replace the way-too-dim strands we used last year.

Never in my 20 or so years of experience with interior illumination has the number of lights I own — however many that might be — been enough to cover the entire tree. Without fail, Hubby has had to run out and buy more, while I stand there staring at the bare top section and shaking my head. I can’t look down, of course, or I’ll go blind from the Griswold-level wattage emanating from the bottom-most branches.

I didn’t say experience made me good at interior illumination. Damn spacial awareness issues! 😫

Anyway, this year we witnessed something of a Christmas miracle, because four strands of lights were exactly the right amount for seven feet of Fraser Fir. I finished decorating the tree so fast I didn’t even have the chance to think about my old favorite hall-decking companion. 🥃

Not for those two hours, anyway.

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sober lifestyle

Conflict

November 28, 2020November 28, 2020 jenwielgusjournalism

I’m a bit of a problem child in the 12-Step support group I’ve attended on a weekly basis since I got sober in July of 2019. Or at least that’s how I feel.

I know, I know. It’s wrong to focus on how I feel. That’s what got me wrapped up in addiction in the first place, right?

See, I’m at that part in the steps where you dig into all your “character defects” and learn how self-centered and self-pitying you are, and realize that the fierce, strong-willed, independent spirit you’ve prided yourself on your entire life was less an asset than a liability, and even though you probably never would’ve made it through school or kept a job — or quit drinking — without it, it has also helped to make you a maladjusted adult who struggles to have faith, practice humility, find peace and balance, and carve out a truly productive place in society.

The hyper-sensitivity that fuels your creativity and makes you good at writing also gets you hopelessly stuck up in your own head, tangled in a web of doubt and fear — which are all forms of self-absorption, BTW, and self-absorption happens to be the root of your addiction and the thing keeping you from living a fulfilling life.

Also, the only way out of the web is more meetings, prayers explicitly written out in the official 12-step literature, and service commitments within “the fellowship.”

This makes sense to me intellectually, but something in me just won’t accept it all as gospel. That damn individuality, that self-will, just won’t go away and let me grow like I’m supposed to!

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sober lifestyle

Seventeen

November 27, 2020November 28, 2020 jenwielgusjournalism

I haven’t been home for Thanksgiving since I moved away, back in the year 2000, but on one relatively recent visit to my parents’ house in suburban Chicago, I snapped the above pic — of another pic that hangs in their basement with a bunch of framed sports memorabilia.

My high school softball glory days aren’t really relevant right now; I post this to call attention to my jersey number.

I always felt a special affinity for 17.

So, having made it through that many months of sobriety (510 days as of today), I’m struggling to come up with anything wise to say, because thinking about that number immediately sends my brain into a Mark Grace rabbit hole.

He was my favorite Cub growing up, which made me just like every other female in about three Midwestern states — and any females elsewhere whose homes got WGN — but the sex appeal wasn’t what really mattered to me. The important thing was that Mark Grace was a Gold Glove first baseman and a .300 hitter ~~who was really cute~~, and he was basically the captain of my team throughout my teens. He inspired what we all know is a HUGE life decision for a young girl: what number to wear on her back during athletic endeavors.

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sober lifestyle

Measurement

November 20, 2020November 21, 2020 jenwielgusjournalism

If you’ve been here before, you don’t need me to explain the above photo. You know that’s the whiteboard on the wall in my basement gym, aka “Fly The W Fitness.” And those are the one-day-at-a-time red hash marks I’ve been drawing on every inch of the thing — except a small space in the middle where we can write actual workout stuff, and a column where I collect inspirational quotes from the likes of deep-thinking former Cub Nick Castellanos and badass assassin/world-saver Arya Stark — to keep the score of my sobriety since July 7, 2019.

You’re looking at the tally as of last Tuesday.

Since I’ll officially run out of room in a few days when I hit 17 full months, my husband’s idea is to cover the walls with whiteboard paint so I can just start marking time there…

…🤔…

Sorry. Got distracted by thoughts of Homer Simpson scrawling all over the walls in that classic “Treehouse of Horror” parody of “The Shining.”

I can relate a little bit, my man! 🤣

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sober lifestyle

Accountability

November 14, 2020November 14, 2020 jenwielgusjournalism

Not to be flip, but if you want to stay on the path of recovery, sidestepping the inevitable landmines of temptation lying in wait here, there, anywhere…might I suggest heading in the direction of higher education?

I can think of no better way to keep yourself accountable than to air your dirty laundry in front of a grad school admissions board, presenting your own battle with alcoholism as a reason you’d be a great fit for their program, and discussing with great passion and emotion your goal of taking your Masters degree and using it to help other addicts change their lives.

No offense to you internet friends — all three of you — to whom I pour out my sober heart and soul every week on this blog, but I could easily just ghost you and “go back out” without much of a brouhaha. It’s a lot more difficult to say “🤬 it” to Doctors and Professors who just heard your story and thought it warranted acceptance into their university’s Class of…(hamster wheel in head turning)…2024?

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sober lifestyle

Victory

November 11, 2020November 13, 2020 jenwielgusjournalism

I put on a pair of jeans to go in to the office.

They fit.

That is the biggest news in my life, lo these past few weeks.

I’ll give you a moment to yawn, because if you’ve never had an eating disorder or grappled with obsessive body image issues — or, on a deeper level, a lack of self-esteem that manifests itself as obsessive body image issues — you have no idea how intense a love-hate relationship with denim pants can be. You don’t understand what it’s like to have your whole day ruined by that snug feeling in your hips and thighs, which in your head means you’re gross and unattractive and lazy and worthless, when in reality nobody else on Planet Earth notices nor gives a 🤬 about bunched-up fabric around your ass.

You think it’s NBD, or maybe a symptom of batshit insanity, but to me, the simple act of putting on said pants, then feeling comfortable enough to leave the house in them, really does evoke enough emotion to inspire an entire blog post.

Maybe I should’ve called this one “Vanity.” 💁🏼‍♀️

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sober lifestyle

Clarity

November 7, 2020November 7, 2020 jenwielgusjournalism

Was there a second of time I looked around? Did I sail through or drop my anchor down? Was anything enough to kiss the ground, and say ‘I’m here now…’?
— John Mayer, “Clarity”

I woke up feeling old the other day, all lethargic and ornery, dreading everything that lay ahead on my schedule. And as I staggered downstairs and plopped into my same spot on the couch to drink my same cup — sorry, pot — of coffee and eat my same gluten-free chocolate peanut butter protein bar, I thought to myself with a twinge of despair: “This is it? This is my entire life, right here?” 😩

Side note: I would be cool with a life filled with chocolate peanut butter protein bars. Sobriety has stricken me with an insatiable sweet tooth.

That, and an ugly self-pity streak.

Sometimes, though, in the midst of nursing the dull ache of what’s-the-point-itis — an existential affliction that’s plagued me all my life — I have flashes of clarity. Reminders that “this,” whatever it happens to be at the time, is everything I need.

Sure enough, there I sat in the midst of my morning routine, not really thinking of anything in particular, and I suddenly remembered the hangovers. Out of nowhere, memories of pounding headaches and searing shame, the visceral remnants of a drinking binge, came flooding back.

I used to wake up on mornings just like this, feeling half-dead — but in a much different way.

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sober lifestyle

Honesty

November 1, 2020November 1, 2020 jenwielgusjournalism

My phone ran an update overnight, and when I reached for it, by irresistible force of habit, the second my eyes shot open (around 1 AM), it wanted me to jump through a few setup hoops before I could use it.

CREATE PASSCODE, it commanded.

No, thank you! — my mental reply.

Of course, there was no disobeying the iPhone, and I had to set a passcode before immediately heading to “Settings” to shut it off. The whole exercise took 90 seconds, but the significance of it remains stuck in my head.

I don’t have any reason to lock my phone. And that might be THE greatest gift of sobriety.

It’s difficult to explain, and I’m not going to get into specifics, but when you’ve lived the life of an addict and watched yourself spiral downward into dishonesty and depravity until you are so disgusted with the person you’ve become that you actually drink more to avoid dealing with that guilt and shame, and your spiral picks up steam, driving you lower, quicker…

I mean, yeah, after all that, it feels positively exhilarating to have nothing to hide.

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