Saturday
Oct022010
Sobriety, Cultural Divorce, and Freedom
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Fall has been good to me.
The weather was so gorgeous yesterday that I was of the mind to go on an epic photo walk after breakfast out with the Palinode and our friend Danny, but then I remembered that we have just moved, dag nabbit, and I had an entire kitchen to put together before my parents' visit, so I settled for taking five pictures of half of one city block on the way home.
We've moved all of our stuff into the new apartment, which graduated us from about 700 square feet of space to about 1200 square feet. It's so much larger that things even sound different in the new apartment. The cats keep jumping at the echoes.
One thing that worried me about the move with regard to my new life of sobriety in conjunction with moving into a new apartment was that people would suggest a housewarming party (they have) or old pub friends would suddenly realize that they hadn't seen me in a while and ask me out for drinks (they have) or someone would bring wine over as a housewarming gift (they have).
The whole world doesn't read this weblog (SURPRISE!), and short of wearing a t-shirt that reads Don't Feed the Alcoholic and taking out a full-page ad in the newspaper and a short interview spot on local television, there is no way for me to let every person with whom I have an offline relationship of some sort that I am now working at remaining 100% sober, aside from the gallons of coffee I've taken to consuming, and will no longer be dealing with any behaviour of the alcohol- or drug-imbibing kind.
An old pub friend called me up yesterday, wondering when he was going to see me again. I could hear the beer-fuelled chaos rallying for his attention in the background.
"You don't smoke. You don't drink," he said. "We don't even know who you are anymore."
That was at once nostalgically sad and such a relief. I'm not sure who I am anymore, either, but I do know that I am not at the pub with my hand glued to a pint of shitty draught beer. This is by no means meant to be a judgement passed on the friend who called. It is a judgement of my own particular relationship to that place and that alcohol. Before I moved to this city, I had a particular relationship with other establishments and their shitty draught. It's what I did for many years. I found the seeming safety of a local pub and pretty much rented out a table for years with the price of hundreds and thousands of pints of beer.
There were a lot of days when I cheerfully declared "It's beer for supper!"
I can't ever do that again. It would break my heart.
I have had to divorce myself from that pub and the culture there in which I partook for nearly a decade. Individually and away from that place, I can have coffee and go for supper with the people I knew there, but I can no longer slide through that place's doors. Its sights and smells and general air of familiarity would soothe me again, pull me back to a place in which I would readjust my narrative again, bend it to fit around one pint and then another until I woke up forgetting how I had gotten home the night before. Again.
Better to divorce an establishment from my life change than divorce myself from my life through an ongoing series of blackout drunks.
If a person can be partially defined by their actions, then it is true: I am no longer quite who I was six weeks and one day ago.
I am barely circling the edges of all that it means for me to be freed by my daily sobriety, and yet it is already, bit-by-bit, revealing itself to be one of the best gifts I have ever given myself. My heart and my mind are being freed.
I remember names. I remember conversations. I remember my dreams. I have a growing array of emotions that range from delightfully surprising to surprisingly devastating. It's fascinating to watch where these things wander when I don't stop them short with a few pints of beer.
Talk of hearts and minds and spirits and whatnot – all the hoodoo guru entrapments of spiritualistic fluff that sell scented candles and polished rocks – isn't usually my style, but I'm feeling a little too hopeful to give a crap these days.
I can feel a spirited hope in my chest, and it feels fine.
I still cry, though, because change hurts. I sat in the bathroom and wept into my fists last night after the Palinode and I gave away the bottle of wine my parents had unwittingly chosen for us as a housewarming gift. It scared me how much I wanted to find myself at the end of that bottle of merlot, how my mind ran so quickly to find ways that might possibly convince the Palinode to allow me to have some. All the hope in the world doesn't take away the hard parts.
But still, fall has been good to me. I feel younger now than I have since I was a child.
Freedom hard won by cultural divorce and sobriety is still freedom, and I am finding more and more of it both within and without, inch by inch and day by day.
The weather was so gorgeous yesterday that I was of the mind to go on an epic photo walk after breakfast out with the Palinode and our friend Danny, but then I remembered that we have just moved, dag nabbit, and I had an entire kitchen to put together before my parents' visit, so I settled for taking five pictures of half of one city block on the way home.
We've moved all of our stuff into the new apartment, which graduated us from about 700 square feet of space to about 1200 square feet. It's so much larger that things even sound different in the new apartment. The cats keep jumping at the echoes.
One thing that worried me about the move with regard to my new life of sobriety in conjunction with moving into a new apartment was that people would suggest a housewarming party (they have) or old pub friends would suddenly realize that they hadn't seen me in a while and ask me out for drinks (they have) or someone would bring wine over as a housewarming gift (they have).
The whole world doesn't read this weblog (SURPRISE!), and short of wearing a t-shirt that reads Don't Feed the Alcoholic and taking out a full-page ad in the newspaper and a short interview spot on local television, there is no way for me to let every person with whom I have an offline relationship of some sort that I am now working at remaining 100% sober, aside from the gallons of coffee I've taken to consuming, and will no longer be dealing with any behaviour of the alcohol- or drug-imbibing kind.
An old pub friend called me up yesterday, wondering when he was going to see me again. I could hear the beer-fuelled chaos rallying for his attention in the background.
"You don't smoke. You don't drink," he said. "We don't even know who you are anymore."
That was at once nostalgically sad and such a relief. I'm not sure who I am anymore, either, but I do know that I am not at the pub with my hand glued to a pint of shitty draught beer. This is by no means meant to be a judgement passed on the friend who called. It is a judgement of my own particular relationship to that place and that alcohol. Before I moved to this city, I had a particular relationship with other establishments and their shitty draught. It's what I did for many years. I found the seeming safety of a local pub and pretty much rented out a table for years with the price of hundreds and thousands of pints of beer.
There were a lot of days when I cheerfully declared "It's beer for supper!"
I can't ever do that again. It would break my heart.
I have had to divorce myself from that pub and the culture there in which I partook for nearly a decade. Individually and away from that place, I can have coffee and go for supper with the people I knew there, but I can no longer slide through that place's doors. Its sights and smells and general air of familiarity would soothe me again, pull me back to a place in which I would readjust my narrative again, bend it to fit around one pint and then another until I woke up forgetting how I had gotten home the night before. Again.
Better to divorce an establishment from my life change than divorce myself from my life through an ongoing series of blackout drunks.
If a person can be partially defined by their actions, then it is true: I am no longer quite who I was six weeks and one day ago.
I am barely circling the edges of all that it means for me to be freed by my daily sobriety, and yet it is already, bit-by-bit, revealing itself to be one of the best gifts I have ever given myself. My heart and my mind are being freed.
I remember names. I remember conversations. I remember my dreams. I have a growing array of emotions that range from delightfully surprising to surprisingly devastating. It's fascinating to watch where these things wander when I don't stop them short with a few pints of beer.
Talk of hearts and minds and spirits and whatnot – all the hoodoo guru entrapments of spiritualistic fluff that sell scented candles and polished rocks – isn't usually my style, but I'm feeling a little too hopeful to give a crap these days.
I can feel a spirited hope in my chest, and it feels fine.
I still cry, though, because change hurts. I sat in the bathroom and wept into my fists last night after the Palinode and I gave away the bottle of wine my parents had unwittingly chosen for us as a housewarming gift. It scared me how much I wanted to find myself at the end of that bottle of merlot, how my mind ran so quickly to find ways that might possibly convince the Palinode to allow me to have some. All the hope in the world doesn't take away the hard parts.
But still, fall has been good to me. I feel younger now than I have since I was a child.
Freedom hard won by cultural divorce and sobriety is still freedom, and I am finding more and more of it both within and without, inch by inch and day by day.
Reader Comments (35)
I know I keep saying this, but I am so so SO proud of you.
I grew up in an alcoholic family. The only way my Dad was able to break the habit was when he was taken away in an ambulance due to an alcohol-induced seizure. He was in the hospital for days, in a care facility weeks, and in rehab for months.
Technically, he's still in rehab.
I'm just so proud of you.
Your posts on this are so inspiring. YOU are inspiring. Keep on keeping on, Schmutzie.
I've always thought that you were The Strongest. Now I know it's true. Everything you do amazes me.
You write more beautifully than anyone I know. I love how you can put emotions and feelings to words. I'm so proud of your six weeks and one day and am glad that you have the awesome support of the Palinode.
Since I don't (can't) drink anymore, the next time I'm in Regina, we're going for coffee.
What a terrifically difficult decision to make for yourself, but what a fantastic one. Happy birth day, really, to the new person you are becoming. Like Carrie Ann, my dad suffered greatly as an alcoholic, and it eventually killed him. I applaud your efforts and wish you nothing but many more happy Slurpee kind of days as you continue on with the new you.
I don't want to sound threatening or anything, but if you don't stop making me cry, I'm going to have to take you off my homepage. I struggle with the same issues, but you are light years ahead of me. Or, you know, six weeks and a day ahead. Thank you for your honesty and your beautiful way with words. Godspeed to you and the Palinode.
Also? As a transplanted Midwesterner stuck in stupid, arid, hot southern California, I also get emotional seeing your stunning photographs of the fall trees. You've got it goin' on.
Again, thank you.
Oh I so blame you for the "Keep on rockin' in the free world" earworm I now have. Neil Young get the hell outta my head!!!
But you still rock sister!
What a heartbreaking and joyous post. I'm one hundred percent behind you.
I was going to say something along the lines of what Angela said above. I'm as proud of you as a person can be about someone they don't know.
By the way, how long has it been since you've had the thought, "fall has been good to me"?
Good boy, Palinode. Way to keep the faith.
And Schmutzie? Heart swells with joy. You're doing it. Keep going. One day at a time.
Good on ya, mate.
Who knew that fall could be a season of rebirth?
"Mustang horses, champagne glasses
Anything frail anything wild
It’s the price of living motion
What's beautiful is broken
And grace is just the measure of a fall" - (Northbound 35 by Jeffrey Foucault)
You have grace. Many blessings to you.
One breath at a time...
Love this. LOVE YOU. xo
I'm a stranger/first time reader. For what it's worth, you have my support. Addiction is a cruel and relentless disease. All the best to you. You should be proud for loving yourself enough to make a change. Good on you!
It is hard making changes--and it takes courage (which you have in spades) and support (good husband!) and especially it takes honesty and patience. I'm still thrilled and amazed by your clear unblinking writing about this journey.....like sumo said...I'm as proud of you as a person can be about someone they don't know....
Glad you're here, present, back to yourself, this self.
Sorry part of yourself is lost.
Sorry it's true that "you can never go home" - once you change, everywhere you go is different in relation to you than it once was.
But I'm more glad for you than sorry.
Holy mother of awesome, I'm in love with you. Keep on breathing. There are people breathing with you.
I've been quietly following your progress as you document it here. I have been doing a lot of nodding.
You make my heart swell. You bless others in the telling.
Thanks.
The slurpee totally distracted me for a moment bc I really miss slurpees. The gas stations just don't carry them anymore. Moving on, this is a fabulous post of getting in touch with you. Girly, I am still so very happy for you. And a new place?! Geez how cool is that. Pretty soon your cats will be laying around all over the place and you won't have to step over them so much. At least, that is what my babies did. I can tell they still like having space as much as I do - until I have to vacuum.
I am so proud of you. And amazed. And happy for you. You are one strong woman.
OMG it's so weird when people say: BUT WHY? In this plaintive wail when they find out you stopped drinking.
I was the super fun drinker. Even my own husband expressed disappointment he would not get to hear my funny blather when I was wasted.
Like--that was you for some people...You were drunk! Or at least mildly tipsy on a reliable basis. They were counting on it.
Lordy, I do miss red wine.
Also cigarettes. They is damn good.
Did you make up this term 'cultural divorce'? How very brilliant, even if you did not. But what a perfect phrase.
You want to know something funny? My link for you is totally old and so I went to your old blogspot and there is a post about you drinking Stoli and dumb me I was actually believing this ice bar could make it through the summer...and this post was now--and Canada is that cold--yes, I am THAT dumb sometimes.
But I was so confused--'she's drinking Stoli?' Did I just dream that thing where she quit drinking? My memory/grasp on reality is not what it was.
Anyway, I'm glad you are not drinking Stoli. It actually described one of those days where the nerves shred from minutes of stress like a handful of needles and it seems like the only thing that would soothe those nerves is a big ol' glass of something. But it turns out that is not true because that moment passes of its own accord. I don't blame you for spending several decades not waiting to find out if it would go away though. The problem *is* always tomorrow is a little worse even if you did make it through from 8 PM to 1.
You do really amaze me and I wish I could say that in a more original way. But it's entirely true!
Oh wait, one more thing--I also have the thing where I feel guilty for not drinking. And you know what? I was thinking about Blogher (which I never have time to go to so it's moot) and how I would not drink. And would anyone like me? Because I am a lot of fun liquored up, it would seriously increase my odds of you and Palinode being my pals in the future. Hah!
That was actually mostly unconscious. I don't even process those ideas consciously--they just float around in my mind.
I love this post! Great pics, what a beautiful day. And more importantly, big congrats and kudos on your bravery and honesty. You have got it going on!
I can relate to the old "friends" calling up wondering where you are. One of the hardest things I did in the first few weeks of sobriety was going through my BlackBerry and deleting some contacts. New people, places and things - life gets a whole lot easier from there. Growth is painful, but the rewards are plentiful.
Good luck with getting settled in the new place! And don't think too much about a housewarming party. If you don't have one, it won't be the end of the world. You can just say you guys are too busy, too stressed, too tired. Not everyone has a housewarming.
The fact that you can still even try to be friends with some of your pub folks is amazing to me because sometimes I need to completely divorce myself from everyone involved with a painful situation I can no longer deal with. I apologize, say it's not their fault-- but still. I do it, because I'm too weak not to.
It's proof once again of how much fiber you have outside the pint glass-- visual proof (you took it yourself, just scroll up and see) that yours is concrete, even when sometimes, whilst sitting inside the bathroom, you feel like glass.
This is a hard part for you but how exciting at the same time. I picture you as a butterfly in my mind. Slowly unfolding dazzling wings and turning into someone new and absolutely beautiful.
such a great post . . . such a great thing you're doing for yourself . . . onward! further! :)
(and i've had a blog too for many years, and hate more than a poke in the eye for folks to give unwanted advice, so i thought i'd lay this out that i have some info that'll most likely help . . . it's not aa or anything like that . . . just something i've discovered food wise that really helps those of us who once romanced nicotine and fermented sugar beverages for oh so many years . . . let me know if you want details . .. if not no worries :)
I have a dear friend who is 16 years sober. His cleaning lady still gives him wine and chocolate liquors at Christmas. His wife says "you do remember that Bill does not drink" and she says "oh he's fine now, he has been so long without it, he must be cured. God love her!!!!!!! This is HUGE what you are doing. Wonderful, brave and the greatest gift to yourself. May it be forever thus, one day at a time. I wish you serenity.
I always feel a sense of balance in my life when I remember my dreams. How lovely you're remembering yours.
Yay! I'm happy every time I come back and read how you are doing, forging ahead in your not-so-new sobriety. The old pub mate bewailing your lack of ciggies and drinks induces me to both shake my head and growl. You don't owe anybody to stay that old self you are shedding. Oh, too bad if your changes make anyone uncomfortable in their rut. You go, Schutzie, go!
Sorry! I can't type! SchMutzie! No more mangling names. Or grammar, neither.
Wow, go you!
Looking forward to hearing about all of the NEW friends, new places, new hobbies! The universe hates a vacuum, right? (And no, dusting is NOT a hobby. Stay messy!)
Beautiful fall pictures...
Schmutzie....You will do this. I know you can.
My favourite AA mantra:
It works. So work it. If you work it, it's worth it.
It works. So work it. If you work it, it's worth it.
It works. So work it. If you work it, it's worth it.
I have to thank you, as well. You have helped me come to a realization, although surprisingly, not at all through your words. It is the pictures of the streets I grew up on that has made me realize why I have been SO unhappy the past few weeks. For the first time since I moved away last year, I spent 10 days in my hometown starting with the Thanksgiving weekend, and I have been ridiculously happy since I returned to my current city. And now I know why -- I miss my home. I had no idea. I really didn't. It was the black & white photo of the apartment block on the corner that I walked past everyday on the way to work that did it though -- reduced me to a sobbing, slobbering Suz, as I realized just where my unhappiness was coming from.
Who knew!
EDIT:
"....and I have been ridiculously UNhappy since I returned to my current city"
one final thing....I quit smoking cigarettes 2 months ago :) August 23rd, to be exact.