Day X and Counting

Moving On Monday

Wow. It’s been over a week since I last posted. Apologies for the absence, my dear imaginary readers! Rest assured, I am still 100% sober (not counting weed).

This past week was filled with activities with the twins – camping, time with friends, cookie-baking, craft-making, swimming at the pool, and of course, beach and more beach.

All of it, especially the camping, was energy-consuming and a mix of sweetness and complete exasperation. At the campgrounds, shortly before I threw in the towel and headed home early, an older woman commented “It takes a lot of energy to camp with kids at this age!” I replied, “Good thing we only remember the good parts!” And she agreed, “So true!!”

Let’s hope that’s the case with this trip. We headed out, filled with excitement – just me & the boys for 3 days, 2 nights in my friend’s pop-up trailer at a local campground. Weather forecast looked perfect – sunny and warm, great for swimming in the 17-acre “lake”. 

Then, things changed. The temperature crept up to 95 degrees, with thunderstorms predicted for our first night. We found out no swimming was allowed in the pond. And the boys, feeling the freedom of a new experience, started testing the limits.

The first day, it was just a lot of “Please come back, I can’t see you from here!” and “Please don’t hit your brother over the head with a stick”. The second day, after a restless and rain-filled night and even hotter day, the risky behavior increased and when I found myself asking them to please leave the jackknife alone already, and stop tomahawking each other with the rusty screwdriver they’d found on the campsite, having run out of the patience necessary to deal with one child running ahead while the other dragged behind (and then switching roles just to make their mom crazy), I threw an adult-sized tantrum, cried, and then packed up our stuff and headed home.

When we arrived, I was sweaty, dirty, covered in mosquito bites, frustrated and still chagrined from my earlier tantrum, and processing the idea that C would probably be saying “I told ya so” inside his head as we arrived, defeated. Given what I know of C, I also expected that he would not be helping me unload the car or unpack any of the stuff I’d pulled together for our trip, to “help me learn a lesson”. 

The boys piled out of the car and ran into the respite of air-conditioning, and I started unpacking the back of the van.

In the garage, I felt it.

A pang of longing so strong it was physical, like a pulling heaviness in my chest.

What I wouldn’t do for a cold, stiff G&T right now. OMG. I wanted it so so bad.

I allowed myself to feel it fully, and even think about it a little bit.

And then I got back to unpacking, a chore that kept me plenty busy long enough for the desire to pass, and a sparkling ice water to replace it as the carrot at the end of the stick.

I haven’t had a moment like that in a long time.

Aside from all the fun we’ve had over the last week, the recent news has been weighing heavily on my mind: the immigration crisis, recent celebrity suicides, the ongoing dumpster fire of our current president’s administration. Of course, as could be expected this triggers all the usual escapist reactions, which I have been indulging in more this past week than usual, thanks to a vacation mentality. Now, it’s back to the usual routine, reserving the green for weekend use only.

One nugget to share: I felt this article on Anthony Bourdain was well-written, and am considering sharing it with C given all the similarities – not sure if he would be receptive to reading it or not:

Can we talk about alcoholism and Anthony Bourdain?

Alcohol “works” for the alcoholic until it doesn’t. It promises and delivers what we seek from it for years, until it stops working. Yet still we want to drink like everybody else. Drinking is fun, right? It goes with culinary delights, correct? It enhances life, isn’t that so? Well, yes, and no. Certainly ultimately “no” if you have the malady, which quietly marches on and in time takes our joy, even our will to live and carry on and pretend we’re OK. We’re not OK. We are just good actors. He perhaps was one of the best. With alcoholism, we make rules by the way, to prove we have control. We also break those rules. We take life by the tail, but, dare I say, some weary of the show and let go.

Father’s Day Sunday

Happy to report back that Friday evening dinner and Mavericks show was super fun, sans alcohol. There was a moment sitting down at the restaurant – a seaside eatery with mediterranean style entrees and excellent cocktails, where I felt a strong pang of desire. Just one fancy cocktail, to celebrate. It would taste so good, and we’re headed into a fun evening of music, would be nice to get a little buzz on… etc etc.

Then C said, “I really respect that you’ve stayed quit with this whole alcohol thing.” And that was it. No drink for me!

I’d even thought about bringing a little bud to eat before the show, but instead stayed fully sober through the whole thing. To be honest, I don’t think I missed any of it in the end – had a blast, and doubt it would have been improved with alcohol or pot.

Anywhoo – I’m busy prepping and packing for three days camping with the boys. C opted out, so his Father’s Day gift is a reprieve from the family Crazy. Off to go grocery shopping for camping food, then back to a full evening of packing.

No alcohol allowed in the family campgrounds. Of course, a rule I would have read and immediately ignored had I still been drinking. But no worries, park ranger, we’re all dry over here.

Friday

Headed out for a rare date night with C… dinner, then the Mavericks show in Asbury Park. I’m ready for it to be a fun night although things haven’t been the most fun between us lately.

This is now the 4th or 5th concert I’ve been to since quitting, so the thought of staying sober is not as pressing, but I will admit to considering eating a bud before we leave… Not going to do it for a number of reasons, but the thought was there.

Tomorrow is a beach day, then Sunday the same – plus Father’s Day celebrations, with some family coming into town. Should be a solid summer weekend with lots of good family and outdoor time mixed in. Thank god for hangover-free mornings!

Thursday

New day, new mindset. This journal is helpful in reminding me that nothing lasts forever. After last night’s loneliness, I’m back to being self-sufficient today and open to soaking up the joy of a perfect sunny summer day.

Do we have our problems? Yes, absolutely. Could they be helped with some sort of counseling? Probably. Is any of that going to happen right now? No.

So then its on to the dinner-time routine for me… I’m cooking tonight, which is usually C’s job, and am excited to try a new recipe. Fingers crossed it’s savory enough for the boys to enjoy:

ORECCHIETTE WITH ASPARAGUS AND PEAS

Pretty typical Wednesday.

Boys and I maneuvered our morning without mishap, primarily due to the fact that I was able to get coffee & meditation in.

Work was its usual ball of crazy, went late today… rushed home to three over-tired boys, relieved one to go play volleyball and tucked the other two in.

C and I exchanging maybe 5 words.

We’re not on the same page much right now, it seems. 

I find myself falling into the hopeless spiral and then catch it. No, Self, we’re just not seeing eye to eye on a couple topics, and we’re both struggling to communicate with each other right now. It’s not forever, its just right now.

I feel like I have so much I want to share with him, thoughts about our life together – our kids, plans for the future, ways we can improve things for each other. But he doesn’t see me like that. He sees a different version of me and maybe there is some truth to that version, but it’s not a positive one. I don’t feel like he really SEES ME.

Refocus. The boys need me more right now anyway.

I’m working on getting better with my interaction with them, working to really SEE them and reflect it back positively. And they reflect love like little beaming rays of sun, which fills my heart, so that can be enough.

In the end that’s all any of us want, anyway. To be seen and understood for who we really are, the good and the bad.

“The human soul doesn’t want to be advised or fixed or saved. It simply wants to be witnessed — to be seen, heard and companioned exactly as it is.” – onbeing.org

Tuesday

Rigid vs flexible.

Another area where I see minor improvements is that of personal flexibility. It’s not all the time, more like 1 in 10… but I’m getting there.

This morning, tired after a late night struggling to fall asleep and 4am “snuggles” with W (see also: kidney kicking), I dragged myself out of bed to meditate and get a cup of joe into my system before the boys woke up.

On my way down the stairs, I was intercepted by W, looking slumpy and sad. I tried to comfort him quickly and get him back into bed – for my own sake mainly, but also so he could get more rest as we were still almost an hour before their usual wake-up time. It didn’t stick, so I made a deal with him that if he got himself dressed and played quietly, he could get up.

While he puttered around procrastinating or ignoring our agreement (or just lost in his own imagination land who knows), I downed a cup of coffee quickly and got into my meditation spot.

W padded downstairs and started pulling out toys, still not dressed of course. When I reminded him of the need for quiet play, he pulled out the electronic drum set and proceeded to turn it on full-blast. Little C’s sleepy face then appeared at the top of the stairs.

Oh NO. I saw my meditation time slowly slipping from my grasp. I watched as the anger built up inside, fueled by tiredness and frustration.

Then, the magic happened.

I decided to change course. W obviously needed my individual attention right then and his acting out was his way of asking for it. So I dropped my expectations and with it, my anger, and called him into my lap where we snuggled and talked quietly about a bad dream he’d had.

After a couple minutes, he was fine and jumped down. Little C was thankfully playing independently at this point so I was actually able to fit in a few short minutes of meditation, in spite of the interruption.

In the end, it wasn’t the easiest morning, but I didn’t yell or lose my temper and we got to daycare on time.

Just a small gain, but captured here to remind myself I’m making headway.

Monday

Two of the more enduring things I find myself saying lately are:

• Enjoy the process
• Find comfort inside

Yesterday, I spent a couple hours weeding the front and back gardens, a somewhat tedious and back-straining task. I found myself working in a frenzy, hunched over in an uncomfortable position and feeling stressed about getting it all done before the boys woke up from their naps.

Then I stopped. 

Why was I flying through this activity when there were so many reasons to slow down, be present, and actually enjoy it? So I did exactly that. I enjoyed the quiet alone time, listening to birds singing in spite of the rain. I felt the sprinkle of cool rain in the warm air, bringing the temperature to a perfect point – not too wet and not too dry, making everything in the yard a brilliant green. I enjoyed the texture and smell of the dirt in my hands, and the satisfaction of the slow but sure progress behind me.

ENJOY THE PROCESS, I reminded myself.

Don’t fly through it unconsciously or you’ll miss out on life. Life IS the process.

In a similar way, when I notice myself falling into an uncomfortable mindset or situation (usually some sort of internal stress relating to the boys or C), I remind myself that I’ve created a room full of pillows inside my mind… at least that’s how I visualize it.

And I can go there whenever I want. It’s the quiet space created through meditation. I don’t need to sit in a lotus position and chant OMMMM or close my eyes to get there either. Sometimes just reminding myself that it’s there is enough. Other times, a deep breath or two will interrupt the mental and physical auto-reaction and allow me to make a more conscious choice to react in a way that doesn’t stress me out as much.

Because I am my world. Might as well make it a good place to be!

Sunday

Yesterday was an all-around perfect day. C let me sleep in until 7:30am while he started the morning with the kids. We had a nice family breakfast then headed to the beach to meet up with friends and a bunch of C’s family who came in from out of town. After a beautiful day at the ocean, a 10 on the Perfect Beach Weather scale in spite of predicted thunderstorms, we spent the early evening with family back at our house.

When everyone left and the boys were down, C and I plopped on the couch to phubb per usual. He was playing an online card game and I was surfing social media.

I decided to break the monotony and offer that we play a real card game.

The last time we played Gin (our favorite game together) was when I’d undergone knee surgery and was recovering. C used it as a way to distract me from the pain so I could hold out the doctor’s required 4 hours until the next pain killer. The first week or two were excruciating and C was up at all hours of the night making sure I wasn’t popping pills too soon.

So now, playing cards has that loving tonality to it, as well as the history of many many times we’d played together before that during our happier years.

I didn’t think about that when I offered it – I was just thinking that we both needed to get our noses out of our phones and interact.

Our interactions lately are so strained; either we’re arguing, or we’re unhappy with the other, or we’re talking logistics/money/kids which is of course, not the most fun.

As we sat back and got back into the routine of quiet card playing, I found myself taking a deep breath and relaxing. No words exchanged, we were barely even looking at each other. But the interaction was good…dare I say it, even meditative. What little we did say was related to the game, back to our usual teasing and strategizing, with a little flirting thrown in. 

Maybe we need more card games in our life.

PS. I want to add that C has been off the booze for the last two days due to a recurrence of what he’s now calling pancreatitis (although undiagnosed): horrible pain in his abdomen and back that gets worse at night, not related to stomach or gastric upset according to him. This has happened a few times, each time lasting a week or so – with him swearing off the booze for 2-3 days to recover, which seems to help. I wish he would see a doctor about it, but when I asked if he’d mentioned it at his last physical, he said it had been years (!!!), and  no he hadn’t talked with a doc about it.

Friday

Okay.

So I’m better after yesterday’s bitch session and a phone call with my very reasonable, rational friend S.

I decided not to say anything last night, after a stressful and somewhat touchy evening with the kids. If nothing else, I’m learning to hold my tongue and wait for better timing.

After talking with S, who helped me realize that I am not responsible for C’s actions toward the teachers, therefore owed no one an apology and have no need to feel embarrassed… I decided not to say anything about it to C at all (unless it comes up naturally), and to advise the teachers to approach C about it on their own if they want him to know how he made them feel.

Poor S, she got an earful last night. But I’m in a better place today.

I’m still considering floating the idea of couple’s or individual therapy to C at some point in the near future, but will be waiting for the right moment when neither of us are particularly upset with the other.

Deep breaths.

When in doubt, pause, stay quiet, and add more meditation.

Oh, and conversations with S always help.

Edited to add: Although it was probably obvious who I was talking about in the previous post, I just realized I gave it away here. D’ur.