It’s hard to corral away time to write here. But I need to stay present. So here’s a Monday hello.
I have so many balls in the air. Slipping behind on some client work, have to do the first spring bee hive check (at least a couple of weeks late on that), have have have to get my partner’s taxes done (this is not even 2020 🙂 ), need to build modular fences for the raised bed to replace the ugly ones from last year and to have something to stretch the insect cloth over to protect my kalesies from the pretty but evil cabbage moths, need to get a roofer to patch the hole in the roof that’s causing the peeling paint on my apartment ceiling in home #2. And so on. Writing about sobriety takes a back seat.
But I’m enjoying the journey. Have a nice little drumbeat of tiny actions that work for me. The mental naming of the 1 out of 10 on scale of wanting a beer, which disappears the thought instantly but it knows it was seen. I email belle the word “sober” every evening, using the exact same structure and simplicity of the email every time. (I haven’t been an official ‘penpal’ of hers for a couple of years now, but I still email her “this email account is one-way” email account most days. The drum beat…) Every weekend I type the next Monday’s day count in my calendar. I listen to belle audios almost all the time I’m in my car. She’s not exactly the sober coach I would choose if I could create a person from scratch, but she’s great in so many ways.
I also have subtracted a couple of things from life including so much as viewing liquor aisles in stores and including drinking kombucha, which has been the cause of a few wild urges (yielded to) to drink in the past, including a major fuck up of a one.
The drip drip drip day after day. I’m one of those people who, apparently rarely and/or unwisely, think “never again.” Who find stability and freedom and simplicity in the idea of just subtracting this shit forever. At the same time, or maybe because of this, I’m attentive to the tiny habits, some of which border on obsessive. (The punctuation of my nightly emails to belle, for example.) I learned long ago that the Bitch Currently Known as Bernadette (Wolfie, the addicted creature in me) has zero respect for “goals.” 100 day challenge, 180 days, one year. Or starting back at zero. She doesn’t give a flying crap in the moment. That’s extremely useful information for me and also what puts me back at enjoying the drip drip drip. It’s my main thing to hang onto.
I am also, despite the first paragraph of this post rolling through my overflowing commitments, experiencing a strong and growing inner urge to slow the hell down. No new projects! “No.” Pulling in, working in a simpler, smaller mental and physical space. Getting rid of stuff and more stuff. Slowing down. Recognizing that which has been accomplished today rather than silently bemoaning all that still remains (read: all the ways in which I’m constantly failing). More on that some other time.