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If you struggle

The crushing, silent loneliness, that’s something you don’t expect to come with sobriety. You have friends, loyal, lovely friends. You have friends you have promised, in a silly almost adolescent scene, are your sisters. You adopted one another, so not one of you would ever be lonely…even so, here you sit. You wonder if you’ve done something wrong, said something to someone that was untoward or bitchy. Well I didn’t mean it, if I did, should I apologize? That seems needy. It’s been almost 4 months snce you thought ‘I wonder if I would hear from any of them if I did not initiate contact’. On almost every weekend pictures and captions of grand gatherings and giggly hugs. Group pics and faces close to one another and the camera…phone. Whatever.

The same group that clutched their pearls over your ‘scary amount of drinking’ will gather around your social media posts, screen grabs passed around, group chats to be sure they’ve all seen… ‘who does she think she is?’ ‘she’s just like, too into the health stuff you know?’ & ‘I want to have a drink without being judged ok?’.

The 1 person they all raked over coals before, now labeled in every picture as the ‘hashtag bff’ and ‘hashtag my person’* (first footnote ever, it’s all happening baby!).  You wonder if they spoke of you the way they had of her… you absorbed so many awful stories about the hashtag bff that your own feelings for her were completely discolored. It had happened so slowly that you hadn’t noticed, till 1 day you had to actually ask yourself  ‘wait, why do I feel this way about her?’ & remembered all of the nasty things you had heard about her. Goodness, she sounds awful. ‘Why do you associate with her?’, you had once asked. This just not something that you had ever known before, slight gossip sure, but to sound as if you don’t even like the people you keep the most company with? You wonder what has changed.

You talk with other sober people and find out the truth… this happens for one or some of the following reasons;

A) They think that you can not be around any alcohol of any kind at any time.

B) Your presence makes them uncomfortable because you make them think about their drinking. Maybe they want to quit and can’t. Maybe they think that you think that they should quit drinking & are judging (even if you aren’t you can not convince them of that…you’ve tried).

C) They assume that you are going to try to convert them to sobriety.

D) You just aren’t any fun anymore.

E) All you ever had in common with them was the drinking, the breathtaking hatred of reality. The need to be numb dumb and  diluted.

F) You are just too awesome at full strength to be experienced by mere mortals.

At any rate, for any reason, give them some grace. They are learning, as are you. Your soul is old, your heart is pure, and you sleep (and wake) easy. Be happy that you have been removed from the gossip mill. When jealousy creeps in, and it will, permit yourself a minute long pity party and with the next breath, let them go. Your group is out there, they’re just busy.

 

Footnote: admittedly you never want to be called anyones ‘person’ because you cringe when people throw lines from Shonda Rimes shows around like they came up with them, knowing that if not inspired by Grey’s that feeling wouldn’t even exist…but still. These are usually the same people who call husbands ‘hubby’ or let me guess ‘McDreamy’, it’s just like, yeah, I get it.  P.S. Have a real feeling, then tell us about it. We are not here just to regurgitate Grey’s Anatomy quotes.

Earliest Memory

I said I would never be able to write honestly as long as my dad was still alive. I was afraid that my memories would hurt him. He was an abusive alcoholic…and more. He hurt others because others had hurt him. He is not well (yes he is still alive) and I honestly think that he did the best he could. I have tried to write my way through my childhood before and I always end up in a pile of tears. It could have been worse, I had a roof over my head at least…but it was in no way happy. I just feel like children need a bit of happy, you know? He started drinking when he was young. Later on, after my parents divorced he would be told by a doctor that he stopped maturing mentally and emotionally at that time, when the drinking started. He and his siblings were abused by my grandfather and my dad, being the youngest, was also mistreated by the other kids. He would grow up telling himself that these people weren’t really his family. He would convince himself of this. I do not blame him, but I also can’t ignore that me, him and his brother all have my grandma’s nose and my grandpa’s blue eyes.

My earliest memory is my dad pouring a gallon of water over my mom’s head. She was sitting against the wall, he stood over her. He said she needed to cool off. I don’t think I was even 2 yet. The next memory was in the same setting… my mom was hurriedly zipping and fastening me into my clothes. If I had to guess I’d say she was trying to go somewhere quickly, and she was crying.  My whole life I have retained memories clearly, eerily crisp details. I never really understood why, but I read recently that when something bad or traumatic happens to you it is imprinted onto your memory, like a scar. So maybe I remember things so easily because I have kind of always been in pain. Or maybe not, that sounds a bit dramatic doesn’t it?

I dreamed at an early age that my mom and dad were leaving me in the apartment that we lived in… they were in the car parked right outside the window that I was pressed against. I was too little to be alone. Why would they leave me? What did I do? They were waving. I woke up scared. I had some version of this dream periodically all through my childhood. They are leaving me alone. I have no one to take care of me… the end.

Intro

It’s not easy to write honestly for me these days…what with the fact that no one ever goes away, and every single person you know, from your mother in law to your children and their friends, can read every single effing thing you may have posted (no matter how vulgar) I have decided to try something new. New for me anyway. I am not going to be open about who I am. I mean, don’t get your panties in a bunch I really am no body, but ya know, I am somebody to some people…maybe. Well, I am a woman who writes and would like to write anonymously. That’s all. I can not, being open, talk as freely as I would like to about heart ache, life, sex, drugs, sex, alcohol, relationships and sex. But, I can here (smiles manically). I don’t know why I didn’t dawn on me to do this sooner.

And the name? I just like how the sagas back in the day were categorized. Romeo and Juliet wasn’t actually considered a love story, did you know that? It was considered a Tragedy. And even though I am a sun shiny, positive, happy person, a lot of the stories I have to tell read like tragedies…even if only ironically. Whatever, I’ll name it what I want shut up.