it is...

"Why is this so f'ing hard?"
"It's stupid that this is so f'ing hard."
"This shouldn't be so f'ing hard."

And there were plenty more where those came from.
And for each one, my therapists answer was the same:


"It is f'ing hard."

I practiced it. I rolled it around my tongue. Played with inflection.
By shifting the words, by making that simple statement, my own judgement shifted.
It connected.

"It is F'ing hard."

I don't have to judge it, I don't have to judge myself, I don't have to worry about perceived judgement from others. It is a simple statement of fact:

It is f'ing hard.

19 years

Today marks 19 years sober. I'm not sure what I have to say about that, but it seemed like a momentous occasion I should comment on before the day is over.

It has been a hard won 19 years. Especially this last year. Complacency, stress, anxiety, fear, loneliness...they have all haunted me this year. But I made it. 

How did I make it? The biggest thing: Fear of disappointing my wife. Certainly I'm glad that I had something to keep me on track, but I would like something a little more...positive(?) to keep me on track from here on out.

In the early years of sobriety, it was the dogma of 12 step meetings that kept me sober. And it did its job well...that dogma that keeps us addicts sober in the beginning though needs to mature, to become something...more...something...I don't know; less dogmatic. 

I strayed away from meetings because I constantly heard "old timers" saying the same things week after week, which usually consisted of something along the lines of "I haven't been to a meeting in a few days, and I am so crazy...". That is not me, and that is not what I want to be. That is not my idea of RECOVERY. Recovery should be being able to function in the world without the bubble of meetings/dogmatic rules and phrases...without having to switch the addiction to substances to an addiction to meetings. And for years I have done that-I've lived in the world, surrounding myself with people whose lives don't revolve around alcohol and drugs, and I've been relatively sane and happy.

But I do need something more, and I don't know what that is. If everybody and their dog didn't drink in the highland games, the games community might be all I need. But being around people drinking all the time makes it easy to normalize drinking in my mind when my defenses are already depleted from the many blows of this last year or so. One piece of dogma I can get behind is "Complacency is our number one offender." It is true...and I need to find a way to knock myself out of that complacency, so that I can prance-ercise my way down the road of happy destiny. So the games will continue to be a source of joy, and an outlet for my alter ego, but perhaps especially because of my involvement with the games I needs something more.

There is another level of recovery to be had, now it's time for this little Hobbit to off and away on a little adventure to discover what exactly that is!

13 miles NW of Grassy Butte

That is where I grew up. 13 miles of dirt road from the nearest gas station, post office, grade school, and most importantly, bar.
I think about driving 13 miles (on a nice, paved road) and it seems like such a big pain in the butt. But growing up, I made that trip (plus stops in between) daily for 1st through 6th grade on dusty, wash-board roads. Once I hit 7th grade, it was another 30 miles each way. Or if you needed a real hospital, add another 60 miles or so to that 13.

We didn't bother with doctors and such too much as there was never enough money (oh how that rings through my head still today), and certainly not hospitals. Except one time.

I was probably 10 at the time. Mom was stressed out as usual, but I could tell it was worse than normal. She sat hunched on her stool in the kitchen,  cigarette in hand, shaking...whole body shaking. I went to rub her shoulders like I did when I knew she was upset, but I could feel the hopelessness of the situation without really knowing what was going on. I tried to sooth her, but I might as well have been trying to sooth.

Then it happened. She popped off her stool, glassy eyes wide as she skipped in circles around the house, wrapping on the walls while singing a song about how "they" were going to take her "to the funny farm" and she would "knock on the walls for them to let her out."

"They" was my oldest brother and his wife who drove her to the hospital, 73 miles away, where she stayed for several weeks recovering from her "nervous breakdown." Because it was 73 miles, I only visited a couple times. But that was okay. I couldn't have admitted it then, but it was a welcome relief to not have to be my mother's keeper for those weeks. It was sad, it was lonely, but there was a peace in the alone-ness that I shared with my alcoholically shut-down father.

And when "they" finally brought her home, I was reminded by my brother that it was my job to keep my mother's nerves calm, out there, 13 miles from nowhere, 13 miles NW of Grassy Butte.

an....interesting day

So, after talking aloud, I concluded that one of my jobs just wasn't worth the stress it was causing for the small amount of money I was making, so on the way to work I was working up my courage to give my 2 weeks notice. The courage part was mainly needed because I love the people I work for and the patrons of said place...but issues with a co-worker...well, they just weren't going to get better.

I'm nervous, but I'm ready. Then my boss has a talk with me and tells me that said co-worker has left for the day to "think about things" (which might be interpreted as "thinking about quitting) after the boss discussed with her some issues that patrons have brought up. And during co-worker's defense, she basically blames me for everything wrong with the job. She even perceives me as being so...vile...evil...??? that she had changed her work schedule so she wouldn't have to interact with me.

Wow. Color me taken-aback. Let me tell you, whether real or perceived; it just doesn't feel good to have someone think so poorly of you. Especially when it's someone you've gone out of your way to please.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not perfect and I know it. And let me tell you, I spent the first 3 month heart-fully apologizing daily for everything that she brought to my attention that I f'ed up. And apparently the moment that I no longer accepted her constant appraisal of me as being completely inept, incompetent, and certainly not nearly as awesome as her; I became the enemy in her mind.

So tonight, I'm working on letting it go. Living in the moment. At the earliest I won't have to deal with her until Monday. But here's the thing...it's the same buttons I dealt with with my mother. Everything is my fault. I am always the wrong one. I don't get to have a voice.  
And I've been living with this for months, and it's been pounding on those buttons with a sledge hammer. I'm a raw nerve.

What I know for the moment: My boss supports me and recognizes that I'm not evil spawn, and in fact she values me, and wants me to stay. I did inform her that my intention had been to give my two week notice, but I will reconsider if the co-worker leaves. I will not stay if she isn't gone in 2 weeks. I'm done torturing myself with co-workers with personality disorders. I want to eat a bag of cookies.

right?

Steven Brust. That's the name of the author I referenced in the last post. The Vlad series. Great write, very sarcastic...love, love, love.

So, on another note, what IS my contingency plan? I've been doing prereqs for 3/4 of a year, and I may not get accepted into this program. If not, what next? I feel like I've been in transition...well, for a long time. The ground keeps moving under my feet. But I'm getting my sea legs...the ground keeps moving but I'm not falling on my ass as much. But where is my horizon, and where is my compass? Not that I really know how to use a compass...

I think part of the problem, is that I don't really recognize when things feel "right." It happens every now and then...massage school, my wife, my tattoo sleeve...but by and large, it's just not there. Or maybe it is and I don't recognize it, or I ignore it, or it's drowned out by all the clutter in my head. So, what is right? On that note, I will close my eyes and see if the answer seeps into my head.

Shhh, don't tell

it's an ok day today.

Much of the day I could even say honestly a "good day".

The thing bringing me down the most is one of my jobs. It's a job that should be easy, and good, but due to a coworker it often is waaaay more stressful than it's worth for the small amount of money I bring home from it each week.

Why do I stay then?

Because of all the other people. I love them. Over the years they've become family. And let me just say again, I love them.

Sitting at work today I was thinking back to a book series I started reading in my teens. The main character who is of a low cast encounters this woman (of a higher rank) who is a personal assistant of someone he deals, and she is always very welcoming to him. Frequently he wonders "is she being nice because it's her job, or does she like me?" And in a scene during which she dies he becomes aware that Lady Teldra genuinely likes people. And I realize that much to my chagrin, I relate to Lady Teldra, maybe not the "lady" part, but I digress. The odd part of that realization for me is that for so many years I went around sneering about how I hated people. Eventually it chilled to "disliking" people, then to "distrusting", but now I have to admit I like people. Everyone? Certainly not. Most? Heck yeah. Do I still distrust, and have fear? Oh YEAH, totally. And still, I like people.

There, my secret is out. I like people. And most of the people I like, I love. (Mona!)

going hunting

Sometimes life just feels weird. And this is one of those times. Like when you hear a certain music on a tv show and you know you should probably look away. That music is playing reaaal loud right now, but I really can't afford to look away. I've spent too much of my life looking away. I can't live that way anymore...life is too dang short to continue not looking the moment straight in the eyes.

Why is that such a difficult lesson? That be in the moment crap? Oh, I know all the amygdala this and that, and cortisol this and that, but I want to know why the heart and the spirit can't be healed as easily as it can be broken? Why the hell, when I am at where I am at in my life, does conflict and confrontation feel so f'ing terrifying? Why do I still lie awake at night for hours for days on end because I'm worried I said the "wrong" thing? Why can't I be the person who says, "I don't give crap what other people think"?

I'm told that astrologically, things are jacked up right now. That the whole world is funky, and to hunker in. I'm still not sure how much faith I have in that kind of thing, but yeah, it feels funky as hell and I wish I could just hide in my little badger hole and wait for "it" to pass...but I know that hiding in my hole doesn't make things go away...if anything there are just bigger piles of "it" waiting for me. So, no hiding. Time to put on my badger pelt and go hunting.