Living and Loving Out Loud

  " No tree, it is said, can grow to heaven unless its roots reac h down to hell."   - Carl Jung         This quote brings to mind the time my husband and I bought a baby mesquite tree to plant in our backyard.  The mesquite tree is this wild, majestic desert tree with limbs that don't follow the natural laws of gravity.  They grow up and down and twist into a beautiful, gnarly, puzzle of dark, coarse bark, often times reaching the ground only to be reminded that it's time to start growing up again.  Mesquites are a beautiful and elegant addition to any desert landscape, often attracting a number of bird species, including love birds.  The problem with mesquites is that they're root system is shit.  If not watered properly (there's a science to it), they will fall over in the first monsoon storm.  Ours fell over several times each season until we finally gave up and had a wonderful winter burning mesquite wood in our outdo...

It's time.  It is now the time.  I've been waiting to feel ready, to feel excited and empowered in my journey to quit drinking, but I think that's just an excuse.  I wake up in the morning and I think, "Nope, not feeling it today.  Maybe tomorrow.  It will be too hard without feeling ready."  But I think that's just an excuse to keep drinking.  Alcohol has a funny way of morphing into whatever it needs to as long as it keeps us drinking.  A party, a special event, a thought, a fear or emotion.  In 10 days it is our 14th anniversary and then it's St. Patrick's Day after that.  So then I start thinking that maybe I'll just wait until April.  But I've been saying that for over a year now.  This is the week I taper.  Just like I said last week... I'll be honest.  I'm not committing to a life full of AF living.  I'm committing to 30 days.  I will use the Reframe App or TNM Alcohol experiment, and really do the wo...

Well that didn't go as planned.  I was planning on having my first AF day in months.  Instead, I went to the store, picked up 6 beers, drank said beers, poured a glass of wine, drank said glass of wine, and woke up to a headache.  I'm going to have to change the title of yesterday's post.  It was a humbling experience, to say the least.  It seems when I put restrictions on myself, my habit screams, kicks, and blinds me and causes me to drink more.   What were the positives last night?  I didn't pick up the 12 pack at the store, even though it's a better deal than the six pack.  (Sneaky, very sneaky, Big Alcohol.  Way to keep your customers hooked.)  Another positive is that I'm not beating myself up today.  I am fully aware now of the hold this addictive substance has on my subconscious.  I think I already knew that, but I was a bit cocky.  Last night was eye opening.  Time to move on.   I recently wro...

I stuck to my 2 beer limit last night and am diving head first, or feet first, or freefalling and somersaulting into day 1 alcohol free.  I'd be an idiot to think this will be easy, but maybe I prefer to be an idiot.  I've been asking myself, "Does this need to be difficult?  Is it the TRUTH that this is difficult or is it me forming a story based on other people's experiences?" I try to do that with all of my thoughts.  Is this true?  Or is this a conditioned story that has attached itself to a thought or feeling in my body?  Like a deer tick sucking my blood.  That's a little dramatic, but hey, I feel it's called for.  Think about it.  I was conditioned, like millions of people around the world, to believe someone else's story that alcohol  is good and part of being an adult.  That's not an undeniable fact.  That's a story that has been passed down through generations and became an unquestioned "truth."  I put truth in q...

  This is a messy answer, and one that I could spend weeks, months, even years trying to understand.  The funny thing is, the answer to this question changes as we grow, as our needs evolve, as life's challenges appear and disappear.  For now, the reason I drink is because I have no reason not to.  I have no job or passion to get up for in the morning.  I have no career to be proud of.  I have no purpose.  I used to.  Teaching was my passion, my drive, my source of excitement.  It was my identity until I crashed and burned last Fall.  Burn out is real and it's a bitch.  I'm sure I do have a purpose, its just buried under booze.  Annie Grace talks about guardrails keeping people on track with their drinking.  Maybe that's true, but I don't like the sound of that.  Guardrails sound like safety nets or protectors against a great evil.  Or like the bumpers for beginners in a bowling alley.  But alcohol isn't a ...

Why do I want to get back to a happy place with my alcohol consumption?  And what does that even look like?  I'm not naive; I know moderating is a choice that leads to A LOT of work.  I'm not sure I want that much brain power going to a substance that has the power to turn me into a blubbering pile of hiccups, missed opportunities, lost connections, forgotten conversations, and crippling anxiety.  Not to mention a puffy face, dry skin, swollen belly, and eyes devoid of any sparkle.  I'm remaining curious.  That's it; I'm curious.  How could Mom have drank heavily all throughout her early adulthood and into young motherhood and then become a moderate drinker?  Silly little veil; I'm not Mom.   Back to the big question:  why do I want to quit?  I think I conquered my demons in my first go around with AF living.  I wanted to fit in.  But I learned that I do fit in and if I don't fit in, there's absolutely nothing wrong w...

I did it again yesterday.  I drank too much.   Not like Saturday, but definitely more than I wanted to.  Why?  Well, the morning started with a hair-of-the-dog to stave off the anxiety.  After the movies, Craig and I headed down to the Art and Wine Festival.  I stayed aware and observant.  I noticed how he was making his way straight to the wine tent.  I asked him to settle down, enjoy the art.  He scoffed sarcastically, a bit degratingly, and said its a wine festival.  No, its an art festival.  Hah!  Look at me noticing the pull, the drive, the need.  We got our tasting cup; he thought it was a joke how small the pour was.  I pointed out that a tasting pour is only ever a couple of ounces.  These ounces were disgusting.  I sipped enough just to wet my lips and thought, "Why the fuck am I drinking this?  It tastes like grape juice with a chemical aftertaste.  And I don't even really like wine!...

It's been so long since I last posted, I honestly forgot that I had this blog.  Reading my past posts, I don't recognize that girl.  She was sure, confident, excited.  It is now over 3 years later and I'm not hungover, despite having 10 beers last night.  That's never a good sign.  It's also 6:30 in the morning and I'm drinking a beer to alleviate the soon-to-be anxiety that always kicks in these days. So its day negative (?).  I don't want to count drink free days this time.  I just want to be enveloped by the identity of a non-drinker or a moderate drinker.  I haven't made up my mind to which yet.  I know, I know... it's a desperate denial scream.  But life is too short to put hard little boxes around ourselves, so I'm leaving it open for discussion as I move forward and evolve.  I say day negative because clearly I haven't quit drinking yet.  But my toes are curled over the edge, my fists are clenched, I'm huffing and puffin...