Written in my backyard this morning

Written In My Backyard This Morning.                     

                    A love like no other 

                    Tears at my heart 

                     Fuel for the fire 

                    Of love and art. 

                    A love for the day 

                    Green and fertile and fluid 

                    Takes my breath away 

                    And holds me 

                    In the arms of the trees 

                    Captured in this moment 

                    Sinking in the green 

                    Can i love it more? 

                    No harder and deeper. 

                    Take me into the feathered         Heart

                    Beating away 

                    exploring and singing 

                    seeking food with it’s little sure feet 

          The sun on its back 

                    A piece of awareness 

                    An expression of movement

                    And life 

                    Represents mother earth. 

                    Two small eyes of God 

                    Taking it in 

                    Perched on a Wire 

                    It watches me and it sings to me 

                    I share my heart 

                    In love for the day 

                    I meld with the bird 

                    As i see through its eyes 

                    I am love.

                                   

Alcoholism Vs. Food Addiction… Same thing?

It’s crazy how some days I don’t think about alcohol at all, and some days one thing will trigger a memory or a feeling, and then I have issues for the rest of the day.

Feelings seem intense now. Happiness, sadness, anger, frustration, thankfulness… All deeper than I’m comfortable with. Please…tell me that I’ll get used to living life on life’s terms…and I will get used to feeling my feelings again.

When I do feel uncomfortable I call someone. And talk. My husband or my Sponser, or a friend from the group. These new friends are so supportive. I love them dearly. 
I’ve been craving sugar like crazy! Is this normal? I never have been a sugar person. But I have to scream “NO!” to myself lately as visions of donuts and jelly beans dance in my head. 
And that leads me to…..this problem…

As I mentioned in my “About” page, I am also a food addict. I had gastric sleeve surgery a year ago, and have so far lost 93 lbs. People ask me, “Do you eat better now?” Hahaha
Let me tell you something, just because I had surgery and had 80% of my stomach removed does NOT change my addiction to food. And guess what? I never was addicted to salad and fruits and vegetables. So even though I have to eat small portions (or suffer painful consequences,) I still eat my favorite foods most of the time. I can’t help it! I LOVE CHEESE. And bread. And butter. And steak and chicken. Yes I am still on my cholesterol meds.

So I find my mind is still in a painful obsession, thinking about food. 

I love to cook, and I love to eat, and when I can’t eat, I cook for other people and watch THEM eat, and I live vicariously through them. I can spend hours on Pinterest going through hundreds of recipes. This is a sickness for sure. It always has been. In fact, I’m sure that I think much more about food than I did before I had the surgery! That is not normal!

So here I am in the same obsessive behavior as I was with alcohol. The problem lies here though… I can abstain from alcohol. I can’t abstain from food. And when I look at food or smell food or eat food, it triggers an obsessive craving for more food. This is not fun. I’m trying to get control of my life here, people!

When I decided to have the surgery I 

  1. Wanted to be healthy again.
  2. Wanted to be able to be active again, and
  3. Wanted to not be obsessed about food all the time.

Number 3 has not changed. My brain has to change!  Unfortunately that addiction is stronger than ever. What the hell is it that makes my brain think like this????

I started seeing a therapist about this, and am praying that she will help me. I guess this is one more thing I have to give up to God, because so far I’m driving myself crazy. I look healthy, but mentally, people have no idea what’s going on in my head.

Any thoughts on this? 

  On the other hand, I think I have my sea legs now. I’m in a good daily and nightly routine, which I never had before. I’m walking on the treadmill every day, and going to meetings once or twice a day. Physically I’m feeling so much better!
I’m working on the steps with my sponser, and letting my feelings out instead of deadening my emotions with alcohol. Communicating in meetings is hard for me. But I feel so much better if I do.
I feel like I am doing the right things. Hopefully the steps will help me tackle other parts of my life too. One day at a time…right?

Right.

Out of Rehab and into Sober Life

After 5 weeks of rehab, I’m back in the real world. 

Starting this week, I don’t have the cushy structure of Springwood Hospital to hammer lectures, slogans, and videos about addiction into my head anymore. I won’t have the same group of addicts sharing words of support, and and the tight cohesive group as a sounding board. Like a fledgling pushed out of the nest, I am now expected to take full responsibility for my sobriety, without the threat of random breathalyzers, or drug tests. I’m expected to go to meetings every day without reminders and sheets to be signed. I’m expected to call my Sponser every day, and keep adding to my relapse prevention sheet. 

Friday, an overwhelming fear came over me. 

What if I fail? What if I stray from the path? What if I become weak?

They have given me lots of tools to work with, I admit. I face step 3 now, the act of turning my will and my life over to my higher power.

Yet,  my low self esteem takes over and says, “Are you kidding? You are a weak person. You always have been, and you always will be.” There is a lingering, haunting fear that plagues me, because I have never EVER been able to trust myself. 

I’ve never trusted in a higher power before. I’ve never had faith before. I’ve never believed I could have a sober life  before. 

Building faith where none has ever existed is scary. 

So yes, I guess I am projecting. With fear. Ugh. I fucking hate it when I do that. 

In rehab they said that only one in ten alcoholics ever gets help. I’m one of of the lucky ones. 

30 Days Sober

An ultimatum is what it came to.

Divorce or stop drinking? … Hmmm…
I’d like to stay married, thank you very much.

  I said yes to rehab… (unlike Amy Winehouse.)  Inpatient, 14 days, now outpatient. 7 days to go.

I’ve learned a lot, and had more brain power, and more energy, less depression, less aches and pains, more sober friends so far. My husband and my daughter say this is the happiest they’ve seen me in a long time. I guess I am happier. Definitely more at peace. I’m not bored either, which I was scared I would be. 

It is the greatest feeling in the world to wake up without a hangover. I’m not dreading the day ahead. I’m actually looking forward to it. I’ve also had more money. Sweet.

Cravings come and go, but are getting fewer and farther between. I have learned my major triggers.  Those would be stress, frustration, and being overwhelmed or tired. 

This is the longest I’ve been sober in 30 years. I’m praying this is the beginning of a new life.

Pray for me…. I need it.

The Beginning: Reality Check

I haven’t always loved alcohol.  The first 13 years of my life, I was blissfully unaware of it. Now, at 45, my life is plagued by addiction.

Not just alcohol addiction, but food addiction. The alcohol addiction is the issue that is slam bam in my face, though. It’s what’s making my life fall apart, systematically, like the old game, “Mousetrap.”  I let go of the ball and it affects everything and everyone in my life. And not in a good way.

It’s Tuesday, February 17th today. I am very grateful to be home sitting in my jammies, in my small, quiet house, with my three dogs at my feet. Glad to be free. Glad to be comfortable.

I woke up in a shaky, wide eyed state of shock on Valentine’s night.  Two police officers were banging on my window. An extremely bright flashlight was shining in my face.  I was parked in the Walgreens parking lot, passed out, fast asleep in my car.  That tends to attract the police. Especially on Valentine’s night.

I spent the night in the Bedford City Correctional Facility. On a mat, on the cold cement floor, in an orange jumpsuit. Before I passed out in the cell, I looked down and thought, “Orange is the new black, right?” Heh. Not so funny when I woke up with a splitting headache at 6am, with drool dripping out of my mouth.

I was humiliated. I had never been arrested before. I did a lot of thinking that day, laying on that disgustingly dirty floor looking up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.

Had it really come to this? Oh yes it had. When will my husband bail me out? … Oh no…. What if he is still angry with me from last night, and just leaves me in here? …. We had gotten into a fight the night before. About what? I couldn’t remember. I could never remember what we fought about when I was drunk. Only that I was adamant that he WAS WRONG and BEING TERRIBLY UNFAIR about whatever he was saying to me.  He went to bed, tired of dealing with my unmanageable drunk ass, and I was angry. I grabbed my keys and my purse, dead set on getting a hotel room. I would show him!! He was so wrong! 

Ummmm…. Wait. What was he wrong about? Hmmm.. I was thinking, thinking… not sure. But he was definitely wrong!

How did I end up at Walgreens? I still don’t know.

2 pm rolled around, and when he bailed me out, I was buzzed through the heavy metal door, and as it slammed behind me, I ran into his arms. “I’m so sorry! I was so scared you wouldn’t come to get me! ” and I cried…. And cried…He asked if I was okay and he did look like he felt sorry for me. It was a relief.  I had already done enough beating up on myself and surprised I didn’t have self inflicted fist prints on my face. Now… Just humiliated…

The talk in the car was the same old talk. I needed to get help. Before this incident though, the talks were always like this: “Your drinking has spiraled out of control! You need to control your drinking. Why can you just have two or three, and then just stop?”

I will, I promise. 

You know there had been plenty of times when we would go out and have several drinks, and then come home and have several more. We would watch a movie, I would cook, and we’d have really fun raunchy sex. We wouldn’t fight. Did I remember what happened when I woke up? What movie did we watch? I don’t know. Does it matter? 

  1. Yes. I’ve started to think, that really, yes, when you can’t remember half of your life, it does matter.
  2. What about the sex? I barely remember it being fun. I did let my inhibitions go. But na, I can’t really remember. 
  3. And then there is always that familiar anxious feeling. Waking up, and thinking, what did I do? I check my texts for drunk texting. I check my FB for drunk posting.  Did I make any phone calls?

Bad feelings. Nawing feelings. Feelings of shame. And guilt.

I have a 15 year old daughter who lives with her dad, and stays with me on the weekends. She’s a good kid. The kind of kid that makes all A’s and B’s. The kind of kid that is so sweet, and loving, and brutally honest, and crazy funny, that she melts your heart. I came home from jail that day, and she avoided me. She did say one thing though. “Mom, I love you. But I’m so disappointed in you.”  And then she had her dad come and pick her up.

I felt stabbed in the heart. 

It’s time to make a change.