Tag: addiction

sober lifestyle

Renunciation

jenwielgusjournalism

So we could also call shenpa ‘The Urge’ — the urge to smoke that cigarette, to overeat, to have another drink, to indulge our addiction, whatever it is. Sometimes, shenpa is so strong that we’re willing to die getting this short-term symptom relief. The momentum behind the urge is so strong that we never pull out of the habitual pattern of turning to poison for comfort.”

— Pema Chödrön

The Urge is strong with this one. It has been all week. I could feel it building, or more like steadily pulsing in the center of my chest, and I described it to my therapist as feeling like I was plugged in to the Tesseract…you know, from the Marvel Universe?

She knew. Thank goodness. Nothing more awkward than when a pop culture reference falls flat. 😉

It’s an apt analogy, too: an indefatigable, incredibly powerful energy source that will not stay frozen or buried and can reawaken at any time and threaten to destroy everything. That, my friends, is the compulsion behind addiction.

It distressed me that at nearly 14 months sober, after several dull, sleepy — one might even say balanced — months, my old core issues had seemingly jolted back to life. Why now? What triggered this familiar, scary rush of need, to buy things, exercise all day, scroll through Twitter and Facebook, snap selfies…and write blogs on blogs on blogs?

All of the above = healthier than drinking tequila. So, there’s that. At the same time, it’s plain to see that the mere absence of alcohol does not remedy the underlying problem. It merely exposes it, more raw and real than ever before.

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sober lifestyle

Profession

jenwielgusjournalism

I didn’t tweet it. That’s the old me, rushing to share publicly every thought and event that moves me personally. (I do that here now! Much more mature! 😂) I don’t want to sound tone deaf. Or materialistic. Or like someone who thinks she’s immune to the universe’s twisted, jinx-y sense of humor.

“Watch me get fired tomorrow,” I texted my parents, along with a screenshot of my bank statement, showing what I believe to be the largest direct deposit of my post-college life. 🤑

Recovery from alcoholism doesn’t cure fatalism. I’m still a girl who’s prone to go to extremes.

This girl 💁🏼‍♀️👈🏻 just made it through her first payroll cycle as a full-time content marketing manager for a multi-brand, multinational company (I was part-time in July)…and she did not celebrate with a drink. 🚫🍻

Celebration does seem in order, though. Yes, my salary is relatively modest, and pretty much all earmarked for paying off credit card debt, but given my uphill professional journey over the past two years (411 days of it stone cold sober), I can’t help but be proud of this paycheck.

It’s nice to be able to help my husband with the burden of the bills, after saddling him with the lion’s share of responsibility in our relationship for so many years.

It’s nice to feel like my skills and contributions to a company are valued. It’s nice to feel like I’m moving onward and upward, rather than hopelessly stuck or desperately sinking.

As an active addict, I was basically living in quicksand. No wonder my professional life seemed, for such a long time, to be headed for a dead end.

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sober lifestyle

Expansion

jenwielgusjournalism

What to say about the sky? I haven’t really known, so thus far, I’ve let my pictures do the talking.

The above was taken just a few hours ago in one of my favorite places on Earth: the top of the big hill on the main road into/out of Tyler State Park. The huge expanse of unobstructed, endless openness that greets you when you’ve hoofed your way up that steep incline has an effect that I can only describe as spiritual. Transcendent. Other-worldly. I’d say that the view “takes your breath away,” but unless you’re a world-class athlete, you don’t have much left to lose after completing the climb.

Today’s humid, stagnant morning air had me wheezing even more than usual.

Physically, right now, I’m not…shall we say…in great shape. At 13 months sober, walks in the park are my go-to form of exercise (when I do ramp it up to running, I head to the all-flat canal path). And at 42 years old, with a sedentary job and an increasing affinity for big meals, long naps, audiobooks and Netflix crime-show rabbit holes, I’ve…shall we say…lost some leanness from my old CrossFitting, strict-eating days.

Pre-Climb Selfie on Day 391
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sober lifestyle

Transition

jenwielgusjournalism

One day earlier this week, I was so wrapped up in trying to get a handle on my new job that I burned my dinner to a crisp.

Throwing chicken on the stove to cook, then getting distracted and completely forgetting about it is something I used to do all the time when I was drinking — no fires OR DUIs in 20 years…miraculous 🙏🏻 — and yet here I am, at 370-some days sober, up to the same dumb tricks.

I thought I’d hit a year and experience a mental metamorphosis. I’d even heard people talk about “the fog lifting” at their 1-year mark, and I’d come to expect the same. So how is it that I feel foggier now? How is it that I wake up with headaches, when I long ago traded in my tumblers of tequila for copious coffee, energy drinks and diet soda?

OK, so I know the answer to that. Hydrate properly or get hangovers; this is a fact of life for alcoholics, teetotalers and “normies” alike.

And while we’re on the subject of Wisdom We’re Currently Ignoring, they caution recovering addicts not to make any major life changes in the first year of sobriety. Well, duh! How did I not see it coming, that leaving a relatively stable, structured worker-bee role at a small agency for a leadership position at an international multi-brand company with more moving parts than I can calculate — much less comprehend — at this juncture, when skyrocketing anxiety issues have been my biggest struggle in recovery so far, by far…might be a potential trigger?

Just reading my own rambling words right now, I’m like, “Wow! This chick is NUTS!”

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sober lifestyle

Flexibility

jenwielgusjournalism

I’ve never set foot in a studio or shown my face in a group class. I own one set of DVDs recorded in what looks like the mid-90s, one mud-stained, crumbling mat that’s at least 10 years old, and zero articles of Lululemon clothing. My “chair” pose is stiff like wicker and so painful that I’ve been known to say “f*ck off” to the sweet little instructor on the TV screen — or in my headphones — when she commands it. And my lack of grace while practicing on the wood floor in our living room can be heard throughout the house — “Hop your feet between your hands!” *BOOM* “Come up into airplane pose!” *CRASH* — so I’ve recently started taking it outside onto our deck.

Somehow, the deck is still standing. And I only have a few bruises. 😏

Sitting here today (at 2:30 AM on Sober Day #350), I would say yoga is currently my favorite form of exercise.

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sober lifestyle

Restraint

jenwielgusjournalism

Not to brag or anything, but I saw a social media post that made my blood boil, and instead of going off in the comments, I threw my phone across the room onto the other couch and turned on the TV.

Then, someone from work pissed me off, and instead of firing an emotional retort into the group chat, I got up and stomped downstairs for a soda, grumbling profanely to myself as I went.

Later, I witnessed some bad behavior out in my local park, and instead of posting pictures of the offense in a public online forum along with a statement of outrage, I stopped in my tracks for a few moments and glowered at the mess, while grumbling profanely to myself, and kept on walking.

You guys, I really am learning to control how I react to the world, and it’s one of the greatest miracles of sobriety!

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sober lifestyle

Distraction

jenwielgusjournalism

In a seeming show of solidarity with widespread social unrest, Mother Nature unleashed a storm earlier this week that was so intense it splintered, uprooted and felled large trees throughout my neighborhood. Our little pod of townhouses lost power for 24 hours.

All things considered, we got off easy, even though my husband and I had to scramble on Thursday morning to find somewhere to go that had electricity, WiFi, and allowed for safe social distancing so that we could do our jobs. HUGE shout-out to my generous and hospitable sister-in-law, who took in a couple of un-showered, laptop-toting hobos — one of whom desperately needed coffee — at her lovely home in Montgomery County.

Everything worked out in the end; it just took a little creativity.

Of course, to get to the other side of the power outage, I had to put myself through the old Wielgus Wringer of Worry, spending the latter part of Wednesday aimlessly pacing around the house or tossing and turning in bed or going out to the car to charge my phone and check my work email. All the while, my thoughts raced between the deliverables I had to get to a client in the morning and the 1,500-word content piece I was supposed to write — no way was I going to try doing that on a tiny iPhone screen! — and the food rapidly warming in the dead refrigerator, and the question of how I was going to get my coffee or attend my regular Zoom recovery meeting, or work out if there wasn’t enough warm water to wash off the sweat, and oh shit, I just did a load of towels and I can’t use the dryer! Continue reading “Distraction” →

sober lifestyle

Eleven

jenwielgusjournalism

My brain is always noisy, but for whatever reason — middle-aged hormones, current events, new Augusten Burroughs audiobooks (I finished “Running with Scissors” and currently am halfway through “Dry”) playing in my earphones nonstop during all non-sleeping hours — the constant clanging upstairs was particularly cacophonous this weekend, and I couldn’t focus long enough to decide on a topic, much less write a long, well-thought-out blog post.

Thus the screenshot. There really is a Simpsons reference for everything.

Anyway, I’m just popping in because I feel compelled to announce that as of today, I am 11 months sober. The dry-erase calendar in my kitchen now actually has “365” scrawled on it, at the very bottom, corresponding to July 6.

A year is within sight!!!

Recovery continues to be the most rewarding experience of my life, even if the last 3 months of it have passed mostly within the walls of my house. It’s bizarre to be feeling more stable, grateful and hopeful than I can personally remember feeling, when the world outside has never seemed more f*cked up, at least not in my time in it.

Continue reading “Eleven” →