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sober lifestyle

Humanity

jenwielgusjournalism
Source: @ritualofheart

The farther I get from my last drink, the closer I feel to the human race — and that does not mean that I’m actively seeking out opportunities to be around people, outside of work. It doesn’t even mean that I really like people, in general. No; I’ve actually been struggling lately with giving in to my natural urge to isolate, maybe (sigh) a little too much. And it’s election season, and I live in a (gulp) red patch of Pennsylvania…need I say more?

The closeness I’m talking about comes from finally connecting to my basic humanity, underneath it all. Dialing down the frantic cycle of self-medication that snared me back in my late teens has led to a greater understanding of how that happened, or what the hell was really going on with the eating disorders, the overexercising, the alcoholism, the…how shall I put this?…attention-whoring? Swimming in the social media cesspool?

In any case, things finally got desperate enough for me to grab a life raft, and over the past five years, the “addiction” layers of my onion have gradually peeled themselves back, stripping away the most intense and extreme of my all-or-nothing tendencies and anxiety-driven coping mechanisms. The urgent, surface craving that once drove me to grab out for any kind of symptom relief has muted, morphing into a much deeper, sustained sort of internal longing for whatever life’s supposed to be about. And in turn, my body has, amazingly, settled into a kind of homeostasis — at least for that “one good week” each month before the perimenopausal tornado blows in and blows it all to bits. 🌪️💥 🥵

I think we’re in that week now, folks, given the fact that I’m able to sit still and willing to exert the effort it takes to herd the cats in my head into a reasonably coherent self-reflective essay.

It’s times like these, fleeting though they might be, when who I am, where I’m going, how I “relate to the infinite” or fit into the grand scheme…it all starts to make sense.

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sober lifestyle

Pleasure

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On the way to the running path early Saturday morning, with dawn breaking in brilliant pinks and purples and Road Trip Radio pumping Kenny Loggins through my car speakers — the song was “Danger Zone,” which in hindsight is so appropriate — I drove by a place from my sordid past. My brain did a quick calculation: It’s been six years. And out of my mouth shot a short prayer: THANK YOU SO MUCH!

There have been so many topics on my mind lately that I started and stopped writing several different blog posts over the past month. Finally, I just decided to focus on how I really feel at this moment in time. Which is…well, grateful, yes, of course. But overall, just very pleased. And to channel the sentiment in Dr. Doyle’s lovely Instagram post, this good feeling comes without any real “worthiness” qualifications, or reasons why.

I mean, it’s awesome that fall is nearing and for the first time in three years, I don’t have to go back to school. It’s equally awesome that Fall 2024 finds me working in private practice, the job I dreamed of when I decided to enroll at DelVal, study counseling psychology, earn my Masters and become a therapist who helps people with substance use and eating disorders.

Can you frickin’ believe it, y’all? I actually am that.

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sober lifestyle

Evolution

jenwielgusjournalism
Our annual reminder that it’s so much cheaper to go to MLB games when you don’t drink — and your family has a ticket hookup at the league office!💰 S/O to Chris for the sweet seats!

“Bring it in; I need something for the blog!” I directed Hubby as I pulled out my phone, flipped the camera and “cheesed” with the souvenir cup of Coke Zero he had just brought me from a Wrigley Field concession stand.

This was a few days before my 5-year sober anniversary, and true to form, my brain was whirring away, jumping ahead, scheming and plotting and writing checks it was far too cluttered and chaotic to actually cash.

Case in point: It’s two weeks later, and I can’t even type one paragraph without my own words sidetracking me off onto a random tangent. 🧠🔃

Warning: You will not have any earthly idea what I’m talking about on this blog if you’re not acquainted with HBO shows.

There’s a lot going on right now with my transition from the Class of 2024 to working as a full-time therapist in a private group practice, which is turning out to be equal parts “dream job” and “be careful what you wish for,” in the sense that great freedom brings great Imposter Syndrome. Cutting through all the anxiety to form coherent thoughts, much less sitting down to craft them into sentences, much less imbuing those sentences with wisdom, is proving exceedingly difficult as of late. 😰

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sober lifestyle

Representation

jenwielgusjournalism

🚨 SPOILER ALERT: THIS POST CONTAINS PLOT DETAILS FROM THE NEW MOVIE “INSIDE OUT 2.” PROCEED AT YOUR OWN PERIL — AND DON’T SAY I DIDN’T WARN YOU! ⚠️

When I saw that Anxiety was the new cast member in the “Inside Out” sequel, the feeling in my gut driving me to go see the thing immediately overrode my Anxiety about going to a crowded public movie theater in the summer when school’s out.

That’s not easy to do, in general, because Anxiety (yes, it warrants continued capitalization) has been my most powerful driving force since birth. And these days, during my “time of the month,” it’s basically my entire personality.

I joke that I’m going through “second puberty,” though the hormonal mayhem of perimenopause has hardly been funny. You have to understand: I only recently started feeling my feelings when I stopped drinking to self-medicate Anxiety just under 5 years ago. So while I look mature, I’m kind of a combo teen/toddler when it comes to emotional regulation.

When we walked into the theater last Wednesday, my period was due any minute; consequently, the vigorous heartstring-tugging I expect from all PIXAR movies completely rocked my world this time around. The crying babies in the audience had nothing on me; I had to physically strain to keep my visceral reaction in check. It was so strenuous that I left with a splitting headache.

To quote the Disgust character: “Overreact much?”

“Inside Out 2” review: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 (that’s 8) out of 10. It wasn’t a perfect movie, but its representation of Anxiety as a rabid, relentless go-getter that can completely hijack the personality and dismantle the sense of self (if we let it!) was 100% spot-on. 🎯

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sober lifestyle

Enchantment

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Views from the deck of the most perfect VRBO on the planet, located in Cedar Crest, NM, just off the Turquoise Trail, 20 minutes outside Albuquerque, with easy access to the Sandia Mountains and Cibola National Forest.

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. “That is my dream house!” I declared. “Why would we stay anywhere else? Hell, let’s move there! Can you ask if the owner wants to sell?”

When you know, you know, and if there’s one thing I’ve discovered about myself in the 22 years since I moved to Pennsylvania — I mean, other than the fact that I cannot f*ck with alcohol — 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 possible….

And roosters crowing in the distance just before dawn. 🐓🌅 I’m adding that one after our recent visit to the “Land of Enchantment,” 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 “retreat from reality” experience all the more enchanting.

I caught a few of them in this audio clip:

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sober lifestyle

Redirection

jenwielgusjournalism

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 I’m at the mercy of other people’s shitty organizational and time management skills!

No more Wednesdays arriving at work before 5AM and driving home from class after 8PM! 🙏🏻

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 I’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 “did the thing,” 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 “made it through the woods,” if you will, and now, it’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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