dependency: nicotine, caffeine & affirmation

Though I have successfully — sometimes with difficulty — steered clear of alcohol for a little over the past year, I still find myself struggling within the grip of codependency (with both vices & relationships).

Simply put: I rely on things and it drives me crazy.

I started smoking cigarettes heavily about two years ago, when I was still quite fond of whiskey and such. I was a publicist and miserable toward the end of my job — for reasons mostly brought on by myself — and I latched on to anything addictive that would prevent me from sitting still with my own me minions (thoughts).

The day I decided to get completely sober (Nov. 24, 2014), I didn’t have much other than my dog, my car, the belongings which fit in my car, a shred of dignity, and my cigarettes.

I can’t explain to you the value of those cigarettes once I got sober. It was like that opening scene of Ice Age with the squirrel and his acorn — except sobriety was my Ice Age and my cigarettes were as precious to me as that damn acorn. Does that even make sense?

Anyway.

With my sobriety came meetings. Yes, those ones — the ones with the cheap, watered-down coffee and powdered creamer. Needless to say, I double-fisted caffeine & nicotine for what seems like a trillion years (but turned out to be just one). Pumping coffee through my veins and finding that occasional cigarette buzz was the only obtainable serenity I could come up with at the time.

But then there’s the emotional dependency. I sought — yearned for — affirmation.

According to my MacBook Air, affirmation is defined as such:

2 emotional support or encouragement: the lack of one or both parents’ affirmation leaves some children emotionally crippled.

I didn’t demand just any kind of emotional support or encouragement; I wanted the emotional support or encouragement from a significant other. Anyone in my immediate or extended family, friends or colleagues — even neighbors — could tell you: I’ve lived more of my post-preteen life in a longterm relationship than I have out of one. For some reason (which I’m far from figuring out or understanding just yet), I have this uncanny ability to find myself in the middle of a one-, two-, three-year relationship. If not that, I’m between relationships — swearing myself single to regain independency — barely a week before becoming exclusive to another yet again.

Although I’ve had my crazy days (most girls have — whether or not they care to admit it), I wouldn’t consider myself a stage 5 cling by any means. If anything, I’ve been catching heat for my lack of texting, calling, or prioritizing those who I date. (I really enjoy my job and dogs…sorry ’bout it…)

But — regardless of my active presence within a relationship — at the end of the day, I seek that emotional support or encouragement from a significant other.

My family recognizes my accomplishments (professional, recreational, or my latest Scrabble victory); my colleagues pat me on the back for various projects; my friends reach out consistently to make time for me. So why do I believe there’s more emptiness to fill?

Because I’ve made a habit of that belief. I’ve trained myself to believe there is a spot in my life that needs to be occupied for someone I consider my other half. Well, what if I don’t have another half? If you suggested that to me a year ago, it wouldn’t be a possibility in my mind. But today, I’m figuring out that that’s very possible — and very okay. I can be whole on my own.

So there you have it, my top three dependencies — among only a couple others 😉

With that, I’m proud to say that I have officially been nicotine-free for two full weeks. It’s been a bitchy 14 days, but that’s 14 days, nonetheless.

Caffeine-free? No fucking way.

As for emotional affirmation? Well, I’ve been focusing my meditation on gratitude for family, close friends, colleagues, and my sober fellowship. It’s time I give credit where credit is due, and to fully grasp that they not only fill my heart; they overwhelm it. For that I am grateful.

K

thanksgiving: anxiety & ego & pie, oh my!

I have a difficult time articulating how I think I might feel, how I should feel, or how I hope to feel when it comes to what’s ahead. For the most part, I consider myself reasonable, logical, and level-headed (opposed to irrational or unrealistic). This makes it difficult for me to foretell something as unpredictable as feelings. Additionally: expectations set up for potential disappointment. If I have an expectation of some certain way to feel, and I end up feeling something different — let alone worse — I’m  either caught off guard or disappointed. As a result, I avoid getting ahead of myself by defining feelings I haven’t felt yet.

Does that make sense?

In leu of this holiday season, I intended to write a post yesterday about my sober mentality last year vs. this year. I opened up my laptop, logged into my blog, opened up a new post, and ended up staring at my computer for two hours while my tea got cold & the Discovery ID channel droned on in the background. My stream of consciousness was running wild, and I couldn’t string three words together.

Close laptop.

Now that this Thanksgiving has passed, I find myself relieved and clear-headed again. In hindsight, I had to chuckle. Here I was last night, assuming — with a year of sobriety under my belt — that I could speak so eloquently to my anxiety around the holidays in comparison to last year, when I was equally as anxious this time around. Curses, ego! Foiled again.

The day before Thanksgiving last year I had been no more than 48 hours sober. I’m unable to articulate in detail what was going through my head at the time…because there really wasn’t much going on at all. Needless to say, I was unhealthy. I was guilt-stricken, exhausted, underweight, depressed, what have you. I’m sure I was a sight to see and a fun-sucker to boot, but I didn’t really care. My dad (18 years sober) and then-boyfriend (not sober) were the only two at our 15-person Thanksgiving dinner who knew I was on the wagon.

My merlot security blanket was no longer an option; the anxiety to mingle around my beer-holding, wine-sipping, cocktail-mixing Irish family members was overwhelming. I ended up sheepishly approaching my mom, thinking it might help…

“By the way, I’m not going to be drinking today. So there’s no need to offer.”

“Oh….okay. No problem.”

Oh God, she thinks I’m pregnant. “It’s…it’s not because I’m pregnant.”

“Oh…alright. That’s fine.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Fuck. How am I going to do this for the rest of my life?*

I spent the rest of that Thanksgiving sitting in the same chair, drinking about four cups of coffee, eating some jello salad, and doing my damnedest to show effort during a game of Apples to Apples. And you know what?

It wasn’t that bad.

At the end of the day, I had realized that no one cared. Sure, my cousins thought it was out of the ordinary that I didn’t have a glass-in-hand, and my dad discreetly inquired about my well-being during the whole matter. But what my family cared about — regardless of their blood-alcohol levels — was being together on Thanksgiving.

Everything that was causing me agony was all going on within my own head.

Shocker.

Thus, my very first acquaintance with my very own ego. 365 days later, I’m still very much getting to know this overindulgent little slice of my identity, and I plan to keep doing so. The more I know about my ego, the greater my ability to control it.

This year, although I was equally as anxious about Thanksgiving (where there’s an inevitable abundance of alcohol), I was able to  reign in that anxiety and focus on the positive. Of course that was much easier to do, given that my family now knows of and supports my sobriety. But if I hadn’t gotten a handle on my anxiety, I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the simple things: helping with dinner preparation, having a surprisingly captivating conversation about HGTV with my uncle, taking a two-hour nap with my toddler nephew, or kicking my family’s butt at Balderdash.

How did I handle my anxiety? Meditation. Reflection. Spooning my fucking adorable dog. Whatever it is that calms my heart and eases my breathing.

That works for me, at least today. That’s it. This is life. This is part of being human: sweating the small stuff, getting lost in our own heads, overanalyzing what isn’t there…sometimes it’s so awkwardly raw, but such a funny & fascinating thing.

I love it.

Happy Thanksgiving.

K

 

*It didn’t take me long to realize the value behind taking life one day at a time. If I think too far ahead (in terms of something such as sobriety), I become easily overwhelmed. Some days, I take it one minute at a time — one breath at a time. Because that’s all I can handle at times, and that’s okay.

sobriety to me: the most human experience

At 23, I was anything but sober. Today, I’m 365 days sober. It’s not uncommon for a friend, family member, coworker, or even an acquaintance to approach me and comment on their fascination of, or to question reasons for, my sobriety – especially considering my age. How does a twentysomething come to such a conclusion? What came before your sobriety? Are you pregnant? You’re into yoga, right? Is this a health kick? My cousin is on probation for this sort of thing; is that the case for you, too? Do you suffer from Crohn’s Disease? When will you drink again?

My intention for this blog is to speak for no one but myself; it is to tell of my experiences – and mine alone – regarding my life before sobriety, during sobriety, and what may be ahead. I know there are millions of people in this world who live a sober life – whether willingly or not – for reasons of which only each individual can give. I offer to you my personal, first-hand experience of the struggles, rewards, tears, hilarity, sacrifices, miracles, losses, surprises, and everything in between, that my journey leading up to and during sobriety has presented to me.

I intend for my frank opinions, raw accounts, bitter recollections, passion-fueled resentments, corny realizations, joyful excitement, and unexplained phenomenon to be exactly that, and without judgment (I mean…yeah. I’ll try). I invite you to take it how you might take – or used to take – your tequila: with a grain (or healthy dash) of salt. Because this journey has been both emotion-packed and emotion-less; it has been both exciting and dull; it has been both wildly confusing and obviously necessary; it has been the most uniquely human experience I have lived to date, and an experience I continue living every day.

What about tomorrow? Well, I haven’t a clue what tomorrow brings. I’m from Minneapolis, Minnesota. One day the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the breeze offers a cool, 70-degree bliss…then your weather app chirps at you about a mild temperature drop, and 24 hours later you’re scraping an inch of ice off your windshield while snow melts through the off-brand flats you naively assumed to be weather-appropriate. My sobriety has proven to follow a similar pattern, in terms of my expectations of what’s ahead. All I can do is tell you about today, yesterday, and the life I’ve lived; the rest is completely at the hands of the universe and how I choose to react to its chaos.

Now, if you happened upon this blog because its title intrigued you, then sweet. But if you decided to have a read because you’re interested in knowing more about a lifestyle that’s unfamiliar to you, because you’re waiting to be proven right – or wrong – about a choice that is worth debating, because you seek someone who also understands what you or someone you know is up against, because you were suggested this as a resource or tool of some sort, or because you’re plain bored and enjoy living vicariously through someone else’s dysfunctional life, then okay. Again: sweet. These are all reasons enough for me to put effort toward telling my story. Regardless of whether these words are read or they forever live within a lonely blog within the interwebs, this documentation of my life is just another way of recovery and self-reflection.

So! If you are interested in my being a twentysomething and sober, then let’s do this. But before we begin, I first want to thank my family and friends. It is those who are closest to us that tend to see our best & our worst. Thank you from the bottom of my stubborn, Irish heart for your support & your being. And to my sober fellowship: thank you for showing me, through your love, how to love. I wouldn’t smile nearly as much without the family, friends, and fellowship that I’m grateful to have in this life.

K