sober lifestyle

Presence


My eyes take in some version of the above scene once or twice a week. It flashes before me about a half-hour into my morning jog, just a minute or two after my turnaround point on the Delaware Canal towpath, and then vanishes behind a line of trees within five or six steps. My brain barely has a chance to process anything beyond โ€œWow,โ€ before my focus has shrunk from that beautiful big-picture perspective to whatever granular โ€œreal-world stuffโ€ Iโ€™m going to have to face a couple miles down the path.

The other day, I forced myself to stop โ€” OK, slow, not that I ever move particularly fast โ€” long enough to snap a quick picture. Guess you could say I had the presence of mind to realize how seldom Iโ€™m truly present in the moments of my life, and here was a perfect example.

(Of course, my intention all along was to use the example in a blog post, in the future, soโ€ฆmaybe that doubly proves the point? ๐Ÿค”)

See, the human tendency to time travel is truly torturous. We know our time here is finite, and fleeting, and all we really have to work with/revel in is now, and yet our brains insist on ruminating or rushing ahead. Or they immediately conjure up some distraction, usually involving a cell phone, like how Iโ€™m currently standing on the deck of this amazing log cabin in the Poconos at 5AM on a Sunday, under a glittering canopy of stars, playing an episode of โ€œBetter Call Saulโ€ on the Netflix app while typing in WordPress and posting a new cover photo on my Facebook profile, for some unfathomable reasonโ€ฆ

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sober lifestyle

Pleasure


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 โ€” the song was โ€œDanger Zone,โ€ which in hindsight is so appropriate โ€” I drove by a place from my sordid past. My brain did a quick calculation: Itโ€™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 isโ€ฆwell, grateful, yes, of course. But overall, just very pleased. And to channel the sentiment in Dr. Doyleโ€™s lovely Instagram post, this good feeling comes without any real โ€œworthinessโ€ qualifications, or reasons why.

I mean, itโ€™s awesome that fall is nearing and for the first time in three years, I donโ€™t have to go back to school. Itโ€™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 frickinโ€™ believe it, yโ€™all? I actually am that.

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sober lifestyle

Evolution

Our annual reminder that itโ€™s so much cheaper to go to MLB games when you donโ€™t drink โ€” and your family has a ticket hookup at the league office!๐Ÿ’ฐ S/O to Chris for the sweet seats!

โ€œBring it in; I need something for the blog!โ€ I directed Hubby as I pulled out my phone, flipped the camera and โ€œcheesedโ€ 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: Itโ€™s two weeks later, and I canโ€™t even type one paragraph without my own words sidetracking me off onto a random tangent. ๐Ÿง ๐Ÿ”ƒ

Warning: You will not have any earthly idea what Iโ€™m talking about on this blog if youโ€™re not acquainted with HBO shows.

Thereโ€™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 โ€œdream jobโ€ and โ€œbe careful what you wish for,โ€ 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. ๐Ÿ˜ฐ

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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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