gifts

last week was my birthday.  that, in my world, is an event.  my parents made a big deal about birthdays (and holidays) when i was growing up, giving my transient family a sense of tradition that would provide us with a feeling of home as we moved from base to base. as a result, i play up the birthdays of all my friends and loved ones... and i celebrate my own in the same manner.

this birthday was not one of the best. i got in a huge fight with a loved one that ended up disrupting a majority of the day's plans.  and a yearly call i was expecting from another loved one didn't light up my phone, despite my constant monitoring. these let downs seemed magnified on my birthday, and i cried and felt depressed all afternoon and evening as a couple of friends visited and others facetimed and called to try to talk it through with me.

all i wanted was to have a glass of wine.  or six.  i wanted to just go out with my best friend and shrug it all off; to pretend like i wasn't hurt and fucking celebrate my birthday.

but there was one additional complication: i gave up drinking for my birthday.

last fall i toyed, for this first time, with being sober.  i blogged about the journey as i started with 40 days, extended it as i was "assigned" an additional 40 days by elena brower (ex-life coach, present and eternal teacher), and then the lessons i learned about myself along the way.

but there were a few things i left out, even in my honesty: 1) the real reason i started the first 40 days, and 2) the depth of the concern i had that i couldn't do it; that i enjoyed alcohol maybe a little too much for me to give it up for even 40 days.

the real reason i started the 40 days?  the rape i didn't really want to talk about yet.  yes, i wrote a vague blog about it.  yes, i named it as rape and several days later even reported it.  yes, i was doing a lot of things to process.  but the initial motivator for the 40 days was when my research assistant asked me "do you think you're drinking more?" as part of a post-rape self-care inventory.

"no," i immediately replied, insistent, even to myself, that i was handling this.  but when i got home and got in the bath that night, i noticed there was a large glass of wine in my hand.  and i thought, "i don't normally automatically pour wine when i walk into the house." and my next thought: FUCK.

and so, the 40 days.  i wanted to demonstrate that my life would not be negatively affected.  i wanted to show myself i had the strength to do something i didn't think i could (thematic in my life).

and that's where that second omission surfaces:  i had concerns about my ability to stop drinking. in my first post about it, i even seem to minimize the sobriety aspect of the 40 days with the calorie counting moratorium i threw in to the challenge. (side note: the calorie counting was actually harder for the first several days... and that behavior had plagued me much longer!) but i had deeper, more secretive worries about giving up drinking: some related to social situations, but others were around the relationship (or obsession) i've cultivated with avoidance mechanisms.

i've blogged more openly about bulimia and dating as avoidance, but not about drinking.  drinking, with most of my friends, is not something we need to talk about.  because it's assumed that everyone is always drinking.  a lot.  you could blame it on the penn state influence, australian norms, or the single-in-the-city lifestyle.  but a majority of my friends are drinkers. so why would i concern myself with analyzing an avoidance mechanism that is an acceptable part of my life and relationships?

each drinking event i attended sober became easier and easier.  sober dates and sober holidays and sober vacations followed.  it was more recently that i came across some life planning notes, from life coaching work with elena, that hit home the non-named concern i had with drinking at the start of the 40 days.

excerpt from work written 5/5/14:

Things friends have said recently, but I tucked away due to denial:
Hal: Does your drinking every worry you?
Owen: It’s basically like rape when we have sex and you’re that drunk.
Matt: Yeah, I didn’t realize we always do that [drink so much when together].
Kitty: But we don’t have a problem, right? We’re young and single; we wouldn’t do this if we had families.

dare i say i'm thankful for the impetus to start the 40 day journey?  reading about my previous denial scared me. i wondered if the "sober thing" would have ever appealed to me.  emergency room visits and blackouts hadn't influenced me to change my behavior; who's to say that anything would have?

in the 7 months after the "40" days, i haven't had much to drink on any one occasion.  i've learned i don't like alcohol or its after effects on my body or mind. and i LOVE being totally clear in my life and intentions.

this is how i 37.

and yet i've been afraid to totally give up alcohol.  isn't it nice to have that one glass of wine occasionally?  isn't it therapeutic to have a martini with a friend when they really need it?  isn't it socially acceptable to have a glass of champagne while attending a wedding? i had a million reasons not to give it up.

and then, about a week before my birthday, i realized the problem.  i was looking at this from a perspective of lack, and the only solution to that was to re-frame it.  and so i did: this birthday i gave myself the gift of not drinking (ever again).  the disappointing july 6th had no wine; the party with all my friends the next day had no whiskey (well, none in my glass!); the birthday dinner the following night had no cocktails. 

but i have so much more. 

and this, my loves, is the how, the why, and the what of my 37th birthday. 

through the rabbit hole: the new normal

i was in yoga class tonight and richard, one of my all-time favorite yoga teachers, made us do a sequence on our toes. and, as everyone was thinking "WHEN THE FUCK DO WE GET TO PUT OUR HEELS DOWN?!" he casually said, just think "this is the new normal." and how appropriate was it that i was wearing my alice in wonderland blackmilks in class tonight? down the rabbit hole into wonderland--that's having to get used to a new normal (or a new madness) quite quickly.

i laughed out loud when richard said this. (yeah, i totes LOL in yoga class.) and then i thought, "it really can be that easy, though, can't it?"

we get stuck in habits. in patterns. in our set ways of doing things. we forget there are other ways. we forget that we might have even had a different way at another point in our life.

then, something shifts. and suddenly, we're in a new normal. sometimes without even realizing we are there.

but, other times, we search for a new normal. we look for ways to shift. we LONG for any catalyst. and yet we still can't see a light at the end of the tunnel. we become sure there is not even an end to the tunnel. we decide we might as well die in that tunnel.

i've been in that tunnel. i've lived in that tunnel: i've been sure i was stuck in a marriage i could never get out of; i've been sure bulimia and exercise would overpower every thought for the rest of my life. i've been sure that my dark tunnels weren't tunnels, but rabbit holes that i would have to make the best of for my remaining days.

but you know what? there is always a new normal. there is always a fucking way out.

easier example? i thought i'd never adjust to living in australia. i thought i'd never understand the mobile phone plans (umm, i call them "cell phones" in america, guys!). i thought i'd never adjust to a more relaxed work-life (umm, yeah, that may have been a faster adjustment). i thought i'd never understand the slang. but now i eat brekky with mates, not worrying over whether i'll get to the office before that arvo, and i even offer to call my friends' mobile phone carriers to help sort their over-priced plans. it just happened: a new normal was created. and i live in it. and i love it. and i didn't have to MAKE it happen.

medium example? i've begun to be less reactive. i've worked a lot on understanding why i respond the way i do in various situations. i used to be super reactive: i would lash out when something upset me, regardless of the cause or who was involved. but, as i've worked around this, i've started to change. a few nights ago a friend was SUPER SNIPPY with me on the phone. and i found myself saying, "no, look, that's ok. i can easily change plans." after the call i thought "wow. a year ago i would've said, 'fuck you!' and hung up. even a few months ago i think i would've said, 'look, you're being a jackass; i'll just talk to you later.' but look at how i can calmly respond now!" i know i've worked a lot at it, but it's nice to be able to acknowledge this shift: this new normal i've been noticing myself creating and living.

harder example? i started to learn to appreciate food as fuel instead of calories. doing handel coaching with elena, i had to photo all my meals. AND LISTEN TO HER FEEDBACK about them. because of this, i had to have more conversations with my friends about how my eating habits affected them. i had to make promises to elena about my eating and exercise habits. i had to learn to take control of my choices and understand that these choices were giving me life.

every day of that was difficult and challenging in new ways. but 6 weeks after that food photo diary began, i think i've made drastic changes from where i was. i did binge and purge once recently: last week. but something i noticed about it? it was hard. not the physical act, but the emotional act. my head wasn't on board. it was like "what the fuck are you doing? why are you doing this? what is happening here?"

i talked about some of these themes with my friend lydia recently, and she said to me, "yeah, well, it's because it's not normal for you to binge and purge anymore; you've created a new way of thinking." oh. yeah. a new normal. my friend kelli has been trying to drill my body image shift into my head every time i see her. (i'm starting to hear her.)

this new normal wasn't easy to find. it isn't even easy for me to acknowledge: i still binged and purged last week--fighting the internal dialogue and self-trust i've built to do so. i was actively trying to NOT acknowledge my progress.

and i think that's one of the most important things here: we have to be able to RECOGNIZE when we have a new normal. we have to live in it--because that is where we are at that moment. we have to always be in the present. we have to stop letting our past dictate our futures.

i had a friend of a friend tell me recently that he had trust issues in relationships. when i asked why, he told me about something an ex had done. i said, "but your next partner isn't that person in that other situation. that person who hurt you isn't the same person they were then. even you aren't the same person you were in that situation. why would you let that experience color what might happen next?"

and he just looked at me in awe... or like i was crazy. i'm not sure. sometimes i confuse that look.

but either way, i'm appreciating the new normal i've been actively designing. and i'm super-appreciating all those in my life that keep helping me notice it (besides those already mentioned, KR, OCS, BP, AJS, MJR, SP... i know y'all got my back).

because "i can't go back to yesterday; i was a different person then!" ~lewis carroll, alice in wonderland

universal alignment

it's like sometimes the universe aligns. and re-aligns. and then fucking aligns again. and you're like WOAH. WOAH. WOAHHHHHHHHHH. hold the fuck up. hold. the. fuck. up.

because it's just too much.

and i'm not suggesting it's always a great feeling when this happens. it's intense. things just fall into place. and you don't know what happened. or how it happened. but it all fucking happened. you feel knocked over. you feel broken open. you feel raw. you feel scared. if you're lucky, you also feel connected and supported through that time.

personally, the last week has been a little bit of an emotional week. good mostly. meeting new people: feeling vulnerable in ways i haven't in a long time... which is also a little uncomfortable. re-connecting with distanced friends; deepening connections and ties... which is also sometimes anxiety-producing; not knowing what's next.

because of these things, i've also gradually been letting go of a lot of pain and hurt. i didn't even realize i was letting go of it. i noticed this weekend that i wasn't mad at someone that had hurt me recently. i had been pretty pissed off about this hurt for a couple of weeks, and the realization i had this weekend that i wasn't mad any longer was a little confusing. and then, today, i had two people who i hadn't seen in a few months (one this morning and one this evening) stop me and tell me how radiant and happy i looked. both times i blushed, smiled, and swept it aside. must be the haircut.

then i went to yoga tonight. theme: letting go. physically. through the breath. emotionally. through the heart. just really fucking letting go. easy, yeah?

no.

tears streamed through the entire class. i didn't even know why. i knew i was releasing. i knew i was making space. i knew it felt good.

and then, the universe re-aligned again. one of my nearest and dearest sent me a text saying "i am not in a good space right now" two minutes after i left the yoga room. i was there. i was open and vulnerable and spacious and ready. i felt like i could be there for my friend in a way i hadn't allowed myself to be there for someone before. i felt like i was raw and honest and supportive and strong all at the same time. it was hard. it was scary. not wanting to lose reception on the train for even a second, the tears streamed continuously as i walked the hour home.

another hour later, and here i am on the other side. my heart is hurting for my friend. my heart is forgiving myself. and my heart is shifting and opening for my tomorrows.

thanks to kelli for love and support in yoga tonight; to kitty for her always constant check-ins; and to all my loved ones that are hurting right now. lots of big fucking love to you.

my infrastructure

stories: they can be so important. i love my stories. i love to tell my stories. and i get really mad when people interrupt my stories.

sometimes i think about what my stories say about me: what do people really hear when i tell my stories? do they interpret them the way i think they do? this morning i was listening to a podcast on the train. the last lines of it sent shivers down my spine:

"the stories we tell about ourselves: they're almost like our infrastructure, like railroads, or highways. we can build them almost any way we want to. but, once they're in place, this whole inner landscape grows around them. so maybe the point here is that you should be careful about how you tell your story. or at least conscious of it. because once you've told it, once you've built the highway, it's very hard to move it. even if your story is about an angel that came out of nowhere and saved your life. even then, not even the angel herself can change it." from NPR's This American Life, episode 504, How I got Into College.

so there i was, sitting on the train. and all of the sudden i'm visualizing this vast inner-transport system. the veins and arteries have become floating roads and magic, jetsons-style transport tubes. i imagine little cars and people zooming around this whole environment i've created over the course of my life. they'd be so lost if i tried to uproot the organized system; how would one find the route to my thoughts? to my heart? would an angel sweep in and try to help them understand why i had tried to uproot the system?

we do become so attached to these stories we tell. we become attached to the meanings we have created for them. and we get upset if people try to challenge our stories.

my little baby sister got married a few months ago. we were there, his family was there: the families were mingling, mixing their stories. my parents told my sister to tell her "rattlesnake story." my sister refused, saying that we all disagreed with her 8-year-old memory's version of the story. everyone encouraged her to tell it. she did: she told her version of what she remembered and has been re-telling for years. my parents had different recollections, and tried to correct and convince her of some of the mistakes. my sister refused to believe the corrections, though, insisting that it happened to her; her version was the correct one.

what does it really matter if the way she tells her story isn't entirely factual? she knows herself through this story. we all know ourselves through our stories. if someone tried to correct my version of any of my stories, i would shoot them daggers with my eyes. my stories are mine. they make me.

but back to this idea of choosing to shift or change our stories. even when we decide to consciously shift the way we think about something, or to try to let go of something, it can be very difficult. like, more than difficult. but maybe just acknowledging how hard it is, how this shifting requires lots of other changes. imagine the whole city inside yourself: after a shift, all the inhabitants would require training to find things, new maps, new roads in some places, new off-ramps, the googlemaps would have to be updated.... the list is endless. so just acknowledging that each little story shift can take a lot of getting used to: that's my new way forward. well, that and keeping my fingers crossed for tele-transport technology.