Monday, January 3, 2011

And then...

I feel like a dreamy mid-March, or a soft mid-October.

I even write that down over and over in my head and decide that the former is probably better.

And then, I go to a meeting with my sponsor, and she shares - about family frustration, finding the ground to stand on, and how she wants to cry but doesn't want to. And it reminds me that I want to cry, but don't want to, and won't. But it doesn't even remind me of that. Nothing does. Nothing. No.

I am sitting in the meeting. So happy to be hanging out with my sponsor again. Somber? Hearing the women share their stories and say their peace. Not thinking. Not thinking about anything. I can't think. I try to process. Wonder what the woman behind me looks like who is speaking. Wonder what the other woman's boyfriend looks like. Look at the girl who is texting. I don't hear the words in the book that's read. I just sit there and sometimes lift the cup of tea to sip. I feel for my sponsor when she speaks. I keep looking down. I look down for so long that I realize that the line of the backs of the chairs in front of me, all covered by black coats, is super dark - compared to the light above, the ceiling, the lamps, the plants. There is a clear, visible line between the darkness of the coats and the lightness of the top of the room.

I don't think.

And when people try to talk to me, I smile, and I have no idea what I'm saying really. It's just smile and sure, exchange numbers, and stories. It's pretend.

She and I go to dinner and I talk and talk and tell this and that, we laugh, she tells this and that, I go deeper and tell something a bit hard - look for the register on her face of disgust or disapproval. There is none. There doesn't seem to be judgment. I talk more and more. We laugh. We walk to the car. We get in the car. We talk more quietly. We turn the corner toward my apartment and I start sobbing. Crying. I can't even remember why or how or what was said. I just start. And I have no idea why. "It's not logical," I tell her. I'm happy all last week and then all of a sudden - out of nowhere? I am sobbing and hiding my face. I am so stuffed up in my nose that it's a wall. My shoulders heave for a split second and I tell her again that is illogical. Why would I be crying right now? It makes no sense.

A storm over the dreamy day in March.

It doesn't have to make sense. It just is what it is. It is release. With no needed trigger. It just is. Maybe it's keeping it together for so long and finally spilling over. It doesn't matter.


I tell her I think I might end up like the woman in our meeting today who had 87 days and drank. I couldn't see her during the meeting, but I guess she was crying. She asks me why I think that. I don't know. Maybe because I need to do an experiment - just to see if I can drink moderately (although I've already told her I know I can't - the thought of planning a drink moderately leads me to think I should plan for a Friday so I can scrap the moderate part and really tear into it). Maybe because I do miss it - miss the warmth, miss having a reason for ice cubes, miss the pop of the cork, miss the idea of a long swig of cold beer, miss sipping or gulping while making dinner.

You try it. You take something you do daily (smoke pot, work out, kiss your kid goodnight, get on the internet - pick one) and then promise you won't do it for 90 days. Just 3 months. You can do anything for 3 months. And then, watch how it consumes your brain. At least five minutes a day I think about it - not like, "Oh, I wish I could have a drink and I miss it and boo hoo hoo." More like, "I should [insert your choice] right now. It seems like I should. I mean, every evening at this time I [insert your choice]. Why am I not [insert your choice]? Oh right, because I said I wouldn't [insert your choice] for 90 days. Dumb ass challenge."

Every day. Five minutes - at least. It's more like 3-5 intervals of 5 minutes a day. And, really, it might have been this irregular holiday season that's thrown me into a loop of high riding happiness and low riding confusion. I need the routine of meetings. I need to see my sponsor once a week at least. I need consistency and I haven't had that of late. I've had staying up late and watching a million episodes of Survivor. Traveling and trying to find a meeting and not knowing anyone at the meetings (although that rarely is a problem, it does cause slight anxiety). Eating way too much chocolate. Feeling dramatically lonely in my free time. Missing sex greatly.

All of this out-of-whack free time schedule that I used to love so much, because I'd fill it with drinking. Now, it's causing chaos.

Maybe that's why I cried.

I don't know.

But today was the tail end to a week of relative high.

1 comment:

Albert Melfo said...

What you said about the ice cubes -- for me, with the smoking quit, it's my lighter. I love it, in that way that you come to love some inanimate object that you've carried with you over a long time period, like a ring, or a necklace, or your favorite coat or pair of boots.

But it no longer serves a purpose.

You can put those ice cubes in Coke, though, and I hear you can do other things with them, too.

You're doing great -- stay strong.