sober lifestyle

Enchantment


My husband tried to show me several different options for rental homes as he prepared to book our trip to New Mexico, but once I saw the log cabin with the mountain view and hot tub out back, I pushed the computer right back onto his lap. โ€œThat is my dream house!โ€ I declared. โ€œWhy would we stay anywhere else? Hell, letโ€™s move there! Can you ask if the owner wants to sell?โ€

When you know, you know, and if thereโ€™s one thing Iโ€™ve discovered about myself in the 22 years since I moved to Pennsylvania โ€” I mean, other than the fact that I cannot f*ck with alcohol โ€” and married a man from the Pocono region, it is that I am 100% a mountain girl. Mountains >> The Shore all day, every day. Give me crisp, dry air, tall trees, big rocks, wide open skies where you can see all the stars, and peace and quiet with as few people as possibleโ€ฆ.

And roosters crowing in the distance just before dawn. ๐Ÿ“๐ŸŒ… Iโ€™m adding that one after our recent visit to the โ€œLand of Enchantment,โ€ because the chorus of cock-a-doodle-doos that accompanied my morning coffee breaks and yoga sessions on the deck of the cabin made the whole โ€œretreat from realityโ€ experience all the more enchanting.

I caught a few of them in this audio clip:

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podcast, sober lifestyle

Podcast: โ€œLiving Sober,โ€ Ep. 13

Logo by George Wielgus, aka Dad

In our final episode, Kim and I discuss #13 of Women for Sobrietyโ€™s 13 Acceptance Statements:

I am responsible for myself and for my actions.
I am in charge of my mind, my thoughts, and my life.

Listen here:

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sober lifestyle

Redirection


Graduation has seemed like a forgone conclusion, and a bit of an anticlimax, for much of these last few months. But if I needed a reason to get pumped about crossing the stage in cap and gown this weekend, all I needed to do was remember: No more summer sessions, with their excruciating four-hour classes and overwhelming onslaught of assignments! No more group projects or presentations where Iโ€™m at the mercy of other peopleโ€™s shitty organizational and time management skills!

No more Wednesdays arriving at work before 5AM and driving home from class after 8PM! ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿป

Those were the jubilant thoughts I summoned to make me smile as I took my last stroll around campus last week on my very last hellish hump day. Shuffling along the lake- and farm-side nature trail where Iโ€™d decompressed after many a long, emotional day at practicum/internship, and looking up at the vibrant green trees that have always calmed and comforted my jacked-up nervous system, I felt a bittersweet mixture of melancholy and relief.

I โ€œdid the thing,โ€ as we said in my counseling cohort. I successfully walked this grad school path and took my first baby steps into the mental health field. I โ€œmade it through the woods,โ€ if you will, and now, itโ€™s time to pause and take in the scene/enjoy the view, then keep walking on whatever path reveals itself to me next.

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sober lifestyle

Joy


The first few pictures of me with my capstone poster showed me โ€œsmilingโ€ with a closed mouth, and my friend called me out: โ€œNo noโ€ฆletโ€™s take a real one where you look happy!โ€

At that point, it hit me. ๐Ÿ’ฅ ๐Ÿคฏ Iโ€™ve been acting like a joyless ghoul over the past several months.

Iโ€™ve been a raging insecurity monster as I near the end of school and internship, having not yet secured a full-time job. Iโ€™ve been obsessively comparing myself to everyone around me and allowing my baser issues (impatience, envy, suspicion, resentment) to hijack my system. Iโ€™ve been behaving like some kind of clueless greenhorn who hasnโ€™t been diligently studying the art of sober living, gaining clarity and awareness like a champ, developing emotional maturity (at a snailโ€™s pace, but stillโ€ฆ) and working her ass off, on herself, over the past five years.

Despite all my growth, Iโ€™ve not been seeking proper perspective as of late, or practicing gratitude, or enjoying the ride. In other words, Iโ€™m batting 0-for-everything that makes me my best self.

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sober lifestyle

Permission

In the immortal words of Clarence the Angel, โ€œno (wo)man is a failure who has friendsโ€ ๐Ÿ˜‡

I formally resigned from my counseling gig on Wednesday, giving three weeksโ€™ notice, even though my departure from the clinic has been a foregone conclusion for a few months.

Iโ€™ve felt like a ghost in the halls, or the walking dead โ€” invisible, ignored โ€” and thatโ€™s just as well, because โ€œbreaking upโ€ with my clients, as my beautiful friend [name redacted] put it in her text message ๐Ÿ‘€โฌ†๏ธ, has hit me harder than I imagined it would. Iโ€™ve been carrying around a lot of grief and sadness, and it seems intent on leaking out, despite my efforts to contain it.

When I got that text on Friday morning, I was sequestered in my therapy office, puffy-faced and sniffly after spending most of Thursday crying in my bed, and I didnโ€™t think I had any more tears left in me, but my phone buzzed, and whoosh! ๐Ÿ˜ญ

Guess I wonโ€™t be showing much improvement on my final internship eval under โ€œmanaging emotions.โ€ My lack of a poker face rubbed them the wrong way from Day One, and while Iโ€™m never gonna be hip to the blank slate approach, itโ€™s clear that this will continue to be a โ€œgrowth areaโ€ โ€” euphemism for โ€œglaring weaknessโ€ โ€” in my next job.

No, before you ask, I donโ€™t know what that is yet!

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