sober lifestyle

Resistance

Source: @inspiredtowrite

The first thing I stopped consuming was social media content — outside of Instagram and Threads, which I’ve unapologetically curated into echo chambers full of pro-recovery/therapy profiles and fellow blue hearts. I went and deactivated Twitter, which should’ve been done 10 years ago, but I digress…

The first thing I started creating (before this post) was a plan to GTFO of Pennsylvania. I mean, not permanently, though my hubby did come downstairs early on the morning after, talking about Canada and going to live on a lake (he’s a keeper, and the only thing keeping me from going full 4B 😉). I asked if Vermont would be a good compromise.

But what I actually did was book a round-trip flight to Chicago for the upcoming holiday. I haven’t been home for Thanksgiving since I lived at home, which would’ve been prior to my Northwestern graduation in…shoot, 1999? While I made a life for myself out in the world, after much wandering in the wilderness, my first instinct in times of crisis has always been to get my ass immediately back to my parents’ house.

All you folks in 12-step programs might recognize this as “pulling a geographic.” And yeah, guilty as charged! Running away is still my go-to self-soothing strategy, even though the lesson of “Wherever you go, there you are” has been hammered into my brain by the school of hard knocks over 20 years’ time.

The difference now, at 64 months sober, is awareness. And clarity. The understanding that each action/reaction is a choice, with consequences, and I am fully responsible for the choices I make and the consequences that come. Whether I weigh pro vs. con or act impulsively, whether I consciously break cycles or continue dysfunctional patterns, obey the commands of old programming or resist that pull and do something different — that is up to me. Each moment of my life presents a new opportunity, and sobriety equips me, empowers me, to seize it.

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sober lifestyle

Obsession

“Screw it!” This season’s version of the trademark “Fargo” dark-night-of-the-soul scene, which, in a new twist, led to a therapeutic puppet show.

I don’t really do “mindless entertainment.” I mean, I wish I could listen to music or watch TV without it turning into a full research project/forensic investigation/online novella, with sweat spilled and tears shed in the process. Alas, I’m always all-in, body and soul, on my favorite works of art, which I suppose is due to both their substance and my style. When I’m looking to lighten my mental load after a heavy day/week, I gravitate toward the rated-MA think-piece “prestige dramas” that folks love to take far too seriously.

Yes, it’s been a good, long, healthy while since my “mental obsession” for alcohol was “removed,” as AA’s sacred text puts it, but there’s plenty more obsessing where that came from! With 54 months of sobriety comes greater clarity and extra room to ruminate on minutia that makes me no money nor advances my life in any tangible way!

This weekend finds me fully immersed in the “Fargo” universe, given that my second bout of COVID happens to coincide with the climax of Season 5. I’ve been a die-hard devotee of Noah Hawley’s FX anthology for the past decade, but this is the series at its best, IMEO. (‘E’ for educated, given that I’ve probably spent more time studying this show than all my grad school counseling theories combined.)

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graduate school, sober lifestyle

Meaning

Acute soreness is radiating throughout my upper body right now, from my neck down through my fingers. This is what happens when you haven’t done pull-ups in a year and decide to do 20 of them on a random Tuesday morning — and, it must be noted, the weight you’re pulling up is not insignificant.

I’m sure I made things worse by raising my hand so damn much in Psych Theories class later that same evening. 🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️

We were discussing existentialism, and if there’s anything I’m intensely passionate about, it’s the inherent futility of life and all its attendant anxiety!

The idea that we are doomed to wander the planet alone, busying ourselves with punishing workouts and monotonous workdays in a search for purpose, knowing all the while that we’re just marching toward the ultimate nothingness of the grave…well, this is something that’s been rolling around in my head since childhood.

Between episodes of “Muppet Babies,” playing dress-up with my American Girl doll and writing/illustrating stories about talking ladybugs, I’d occasionally get sucked up in the existential vacuum and go swirling around in the infinite abyss for a while. What kid doesn’t?

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