Progress. Not Perfection: My Journey

[comebackgal]

Day 1,521:  A New Journey

Hello Tumblr-world! ...Is anybody out there? :)  Possibly not.  It’s been so long since I’ve written.  I’m honestly not even sure if people really use Tumblr anymore.  Perhaps there’s another cool new self-publishing blogger site that all the kids are using nowadays.  But, that’s OK.  I’m back because I’m on a new journey and I’ve been feeling the pull back to this space to write and find clarity.  When I was getting sober, this blog was an incredibly useful tool.  I fully believe it was one of the major factors in my getting and staying sober.  Having a blank page to really work my thoughts and feelings out on was imperative.  And such is the case, again, I feel. 

I have been sober now a little over four years. It’s so incredibly wild.  Four years.  Once upon a time, a week seemed like an eternity.  I could never have imagined racking up this amount of sober time, nor could I have envisioned how my life is now.  In four years, I started and finished grad school.  I worked in the psychology/recovery field for a year, and then quit after discovering that it really wasn’t for me.  Started a new career as a personal trainer, wellness blogger, and fitness model; got married; became a stepmom; moved three times; traveled to 8+ countries; got a cat; and now, what brings me back to this safe space, got pregnant.

Yep, that’s right.  I’m going to be a mom.  It’s so insane to me.  I always assumed I’d have children some day but I never really thought about when.  I never envisioned myself pregnant.  I of course never thought about the myriad questions and fears and doubts I would have.  I just saw myself, in the future, with a husband, a house, and a kid or two.  

It happened quick, too.  One day after returning from a beautiful trip to LA where I spent a lot of time with my friend’s and sister-in-laws’ kids, I announced to my dear husband, “I’m ready to start trying.”  No idea where this came from, but it felt really right at the time.  And then, in the days to follow this announcement, it felt really, really horribly and terrifying wrong. What have I do?  What am I doing with my life?  I’m not ready for kids!  Do I even want kids?  Whose idea was this?  Oh. My. God. 

And then, very soon after, the test revealed two lines.  To say I’ve gone through an array of emotions would be a pathetic understatement.  (And yeah, the hormones play a big part in that).  But, I can say today, at the beginning of Week 8, it’s starting to feel a bit real, and I’m starting to get a bit excited about it.  I have always been brutally honest on this blog, and that’s one of the reasons I’ve returned; I feel the need for a space where I can free-flow my painfully honest thoughts.  And the truth is, that for the first few weeks, I wasn’t excited.  I was scared and mildly depressed, I think.  It seemed a bit like my life was going to end, and that feels like a painfully ridiculous thing to say, because IT WAS MY IDEA.  But I can get caught up in self-doubt, a lot.  And such is the case with this pregnancy, I believe.  I DO have a lot of anxieties, but things are beginning to seem manageable, and I’m starting to trust my initial judgment on wanting to get pregnant in the first place.

One of the things I’ve learned over the past four years is that I (can) have a lot of fear, if I allow it.  And my fear voice is so strong at times that it makes me forget what the truth is.  Often times, my initial reaction or thought to a new idea is the honest truth, but when I allow my brain to actually think about it, it comes up with a ton of worst-case-scenario thoughts that scare me into thinking something completely different from my original thought.  The mind is a powerful thing if left unchecked.  

Anyways.  So, yes.  I am 8 weeks pregnant.  I am still very much processing it all, but we are quite excited (I think my husband may be more excited than me though!  After all, he doesn’t have to go through the horrors of pregnancy!)  My plan is to check in and write as frequently as I need to.  And, I feel I will need to.  

I’m grateful for this space, and my continuing sobriety.  

-CBG

[comebackgal]

Day 990:  I got married.  And I was sober.

I got married yesterday and I didn’t have a drink.  

When I first got sober, this would have been unthinkable to me.  GET MARRIED WITHOUT A COCKTAIL IN HAND?  Without a champagne toast?  Without a celebratory shot?  What. Are. You. Talking. About?

But here I am!  Almost three years into my sober journey, and I’m here to tell you that it can be done.  You can date.  You can fall in love.  You can have big fights.  You can feel very afraid, nervous, scared, alone, enthralled, joyous, ecstatic, petrified, bored, depressed, ashamed- you can feel any of the ways that human beings are capable of feeling, and you can do it without a drink.  You can even WANT to have a drink, and NOT have one (!).  You can be sober on airplanes, at bars, at funerals, and even at your very own wedding.  I know this now because I’ve managed to do it in all of the aforementioned scenarios.  

I am by no means bragging about my Super Awesome Sober Powers, because I don’t have any.  All that I have are the tools that were passed down to me by other sober individuals who were able to face the same scenarios without dribbling some vodka into their Poland Spring bottles.  (You know what I’m talking about). I’ll never forget the day I called my sponsor in a total and utter panic and feverishly confessed that I wanted a drink.  I probably had about two months sober at that point, and had pretty much been on a pink cloud the whole time, but suddenly I was faced with an unavoidable social work function that would involve booze.  Lots of booze.  And I wanted to drink the booze.  All of the booze.  When I made this declaration to her, she almost laughed, and said something to the effect of, “Well, yeah.  You’re an alcoholic.  Of course you want to drink.  Why don’t you go to a meeting and call me after?”  At first I was a bit irritated at her calmness in the face of my colossal anxiety over having a craving, but with time I realized one of the most important things I’ve ever learned during this journey:  I can want something and not have it.  And eventually, that want (i.e. craving) goes away.  I truly did not know until that moment that I could have a craving without having to act on it.  This may be a seemingly simple concept to most, but I have found in my sobriety, that the simplest ideas are often times the most challenging ones for me to understand and accept. The simple route is never the first that comes to mind.  I rarely think about the easiest way to do something, tending, instead, to place layer upon layer of convoluted BS between point A and point B.  I’m an alcoholic, what can I say? 

Anyways, I would be lying if I said I didn’t whimsically and nostalgically long for a glass of champagne at the salon while getting my hair done yesterday morning, but then I quickly remembered that I didn’t want A GLASS of champagne, have never wanted a glass of champagne, would in fact, HAVE NO IDEA how to drink a single glass of champagne, and can still remember the days when I would drink champagne; they were literal DAYS of drinking champagne, far beyond blackout, and into a near psychosis that took a tremendous toll on everything I most valued in my life: my friends, my job, my health, and my sanity.  Ultimately, I remembered that I “want” a glass of champagne about as much as I want a single Oreo.  Who has ever wanted a single Oreo?  Bring forth this person, for they surely are a (moderated) God! 

In my (almost) three years of sobriety, I have done a whole lot.  I met the love of my life.  I started and am weeks away from finishing my masters degree in psychology.  I’ve traveled, both solo and with loved ones.  I learned to surf.  I’ve become a step mom.  I’ve repaired relationships and built strong beautiful new ones.  I’ve learned how to be a good friend.  I’ve learned how to take care of myself.  I’ve worked in a variety of settings I never would have dreamed of (loving some, and hating others).  I’ve read books I’ve always wanted to.  I’ve tried out new hobbies (painting: Yes!  Roller derby: Oh, God-no.)  I’ve lead running groups and bootcamps.  I taught an undergraduate psychology class.  I’ve dealt with death and attended funerals.  I’ve taken a lot of flights,  and, I got married.  All without a drink.  Am I proud of this fact?  Yes.  Because at times it’s been a challenge, and I’ve come out on the other side, much, MUCH better for it. Am I smug and think I know all the answers?  Heck, NO.  But I know what I’ve learned from those who have soldiered this road before me, and I am so unbelievably grateful for the tools I’ve been given to deal with this life.  My life.  As far as I know, we only get one of these, and I don’t want to live it through a constant haze of rose (or, worse, merlot). 

We are all so much stronger than we think.

Love & Light,

CBG

[comebackgal]

Day 921: Big News

So much, so much.  So. MUCH to report since my last entry.  First, and of utmost importance...

I AM GETTING MARRIED!!

S. proposed about two weeks ago and we are both absolutely thrilled.  We both knew quite early on that we were heading (and happily so) in this direction, and had been talking about it since May, and now it’s really happening!  I am so excited to commit to this man and this relationship in a big way.  I adore him and am endlessly surprised and delighted by his emotional depth, trustworthy-ness and love he shows on a routine basis.  This is so very different from the first time around...for both of us.  This relationship has shown me that healthy beautiful partnerships are possible.  Sometimes it is work-- as everything is, but it is work that is so worth it.  

I am happy.  And as with everything in my life, none of this would be possible without my sobriety.  I am so aware of that, and so grateful.  

Aside from this, I’ve begun my final semester of grad school and I already have a severe case of senioritis.  I am SO ready to be done with this chapter of my education.  I’ve learned so much and have grown in more ways than I can count, but I’m worn out from working full-time and attending school and modeling and of course working my program, and I just want to whittle my life down a bit.  I’m glad to be in the home stretch.

And then there’s work; so challenging, often rewarding, and other times, not at all.  Working in recovery is no joke and not for the faint of heart.  I’ve wanted to quit more times than I can count since I started this job seven months ago, but I have learned SO much in such a short amount of time- both job-wise, and about myself.  This role has been an education in it’s own right, and I feel as though I am just getting an education in many different realms right now.  I’m grateful, but, like I said: I’ll be glad when May is upon us and I officially earn that degree designation as a “Master.”  

I’m trying not to wish time away.  One day at a time, as always.  I still vividly remember my Day 1 of sobriety, and it’s amazing that I’ve managed to string so very many of those days together.  

A life beyond my wildest dreams.  That’s what I was promised, and that’s where I’m living.

Thank you to all who read and support.

Love & Light,

CBG

[comebackgal]

Day 891:  An internal home

I’m really digging my Sunday ritual.  I sleep lateish, drink some coffee, brush my teeth and then walk 5 minutes to the 11th Step meeting that’s just a few blocks from my apartment.  It’s such a great meeting and I’m really enjoying getting to know the group.  It’s been quite a while since I’ve really gotten to know an AA group.  I am reminded of my first home group in the city where the 10am daily meeting became the backbone of my day.  Every morning I left feeling rejuvenated and exhilarated, and I love that I’m reestablishing that community here in Jersey City.  

That’s the current theme I’m on; building community, family, and a true sense of “home.”  I’ve been gradually doing that since S. and I started dating, and now that I’ve been here for over a year, and we’ve been living together for about half of that time, this sense of home and belonging has been steadily gaining momentum and expanding its roots.  I love that my boxing gym is a 7 minute walk, and that there are people I recognize and am slowly getting to know there.  This in conjunction with my AA family, my boyfriend and his family (most of whom live here as well), and the familiar faces I see at the deli, grocery store, Duane Reade, etc all come together to create that sense of familiarity and home that I’ve been looking for for a long time. 

I didn’t have any of this during my first marriage.  All of that felt like somebody else’s life; all the pieces were disjointed and uncomfortable and forced and...cold.  We lived in a nice apartment in a nice part of Manhattan near nice restaurants and shops.  But nice doesn’t equal right, and in that instance it equaled superficiality.  And I was very aware of that, and so I drank.  And drank.  And then drank some more, so that I could obliterate all of the wrongness.  And for a while it worked.  But of course eventually the booze stops working.  It stopped for me when I could no longer deal with having to face any of the pieces of the house of cards that I had painstakingly forced together to create a shelter that I thought could protect me from...what, exactly?  Fear.  Feelings of inadequacy.  Feelings of loss of identity and uncertainty.  And so I tried to make an external life to make up for all of the emptiness I felt internally.  

And it didn’t work. Of course.  Of course.  

But I didn’t know that then.  I was doing my best.  Deep down I knew what I wanted, or at least had a sense of it, but I didn’t have the tools nor the courage to engage in the actions that could take me to where I wanted to be.  Where I needed to be.

As I figured out, as we all figure out when we put down the drink or the drug and decide to get sober, the drinking was but a symptom.  The underlying issues had to be dealt with, no matter how painful or how scary in order to begin to rebuild (and in some cases build for the first time) the sort of life that I envisioned for myself.  One free from fear and superficiality.  In short, I needed a foundation from which to begin, and that foundation began to be laid out for me in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous.  

Today, almost two and a half years later, the foundation has been firmly laid, the house is built, and the individual rooms are really coming along nicely.  Where once there was a bare and bitter chill, there is a warmth and fullness that continues to expand as I continue to move down this path of sobriety and right living.  Finally my internal and external worlds are congruent and I feel at home, in both mind, spirit, and body. And my-oh-my, it sure is nice.  

Love & Light,

CBG

[comebackgal]

Day 884 (29 Months!):  Alone does not equal lonely

Today, I am alone, but today I am not lonely.  There is a massive difference between the two.  I had been thinking about this idea over the past few days because I knew that I would have an uncharacteristic solo Sunday.  S. is working on a project all day today, and it’s pretty rare that he has weekend sessions.  Usually we spend the majority of this day together, aside from an hour or two when I’m at my morning meditation meeting, or beating the bejesus out of a heavybag at a boxing class.  I realized, in thinking about today, that I had some fear-- some worries, some doubts about being alone.  And I need to examine that more closely, because though I hate to admit it, I think that a little bit of codependence has crept into our relationship.  Not a lot, but a little, and I’m wondering if A) That’s normal of all relationships, and B) Should I/Can I/we fix this?  

Before S. and I started dating, I was very happy in my life.  I had my own little space in Brooklyn, which was (and still for the most part is) where all of my friends lived.  I went to meetings out there.  I ran all throughout the various neighborhoods.  I biked to meetings in Williamsburg, where there was a whole host of people who were roughly my age, education-level, and whom were similarly-minded.  I went on solo-trips, which I relished.  I bought things with only myself in mind.  I took impromptu weekend hikes with whomever was around and wanted to go.  I went through intense periods of cooking and baking, where I made exactly what I desired, without anyone else in mind.  In short, I had complete and utter freedom, and I fucking loved it.  

Admittedly, I was actively dating various men and very much wanted to find a partner to share all of this good stuff with, but I was also quite OK and happy without one.  In fact, when S. and I finally got around to meeting in person (which was about 6 months after we had started a dialogue on Tinder, of all places), I was pretty resigned to being single, didn’t anticipate that he and I would actually hit it off, and was happy in that resignation.   But we all know that old adage:  you meet the right person when you least expect it.  We fell hard and fast and deeply in love, and though I think we’ve done quite well at maintaining our individuality, I do think that it’s easy to slip into a bit of codependency when you cohabitate with someone, sharing not only the same physical space, but also building congruent emotional ground, and establishing shared future goals.  

But perhaps I’m looking at this in too harsh of a light.  It’s certainly not that I feel as though I can’t go on when S. and I are apart, it’s just that I go on doing the things that I do, physically separated from him, but not emotionally so.  Absence of body does not mean absence of heart.  So when I reexamine this situation with open and non-judgmental eyes, I am able to reframe it, realizing that perhaps what I was quick to label “codependency” is actually really just me missing him.  But why should I label my missing him as negative?  Isn’t it nice to miss people sometimes, because then you really appreciate them when you are next together?  And what I realized last evening was that I could simply change how I chose to view today; today does not have to be a day of fear-- worrying about being lonely, or constantly aware of being by myself, but that it could instead be an opportunity to do all of the things that I really love so much:  writing, running, drawing, catching up with friends, etc; all of the stuff that I negotiate my involvement in when S. and I are together.  Because life is all about choices, and anytime you engage in something, you are not engaging in something else, and if you engage in any one thing TOO much, you risk weakening your connection with the other things that you love; you become rather one directional, which in turn places an inevitable heaviness upon the One Thing that you’ve devoted all of your attention to, and over time this can create an imbalance.  

So.  I am committed to using today as a chance to rebalance a bit; to resume the habits that make me Me, that fill my soul, and nourish my mind and life.  And making this time and space to write what’s at the depth of my being-- my current truth-- is a major piece of that, because like Joan Didion has, and often writes, it is through this process that I am able to figure out what I really think and feel.  And often times, what initially seems like a scary obsessional messy rotation of thoughts in my brain, ends up presenting itself upon the page as a neat, kind, holistic summary of how I truly feel. 

Alone does not equal lonely.

Love & Light,

CBG   

[comebackgal]

Day 881:  Do nothing.

Some days you go for a run after work.  Other days, you eat peanutbutter directly out of the jar.  Today is one of the latter.  Today was not a terrible day by any means but it was just kind of blah.  And I feel rather unmotivated to do anything.  And so, I’m hanging out on my couch with my kitten and listening to some pretty amazingly dramatic 90s music.  

I really have to work on accepting these rare evenings where I just don’t feel like doing much of anything.  Sitting still is way harder for me than going for a long run or a boxing class or just going-going-going in general.  I’m actively working on liking times like this, but it’s an ongoing practice.

Even writing these few words feels so difficult right now.  So, I’m going to end it here and go back to just existing.

Love & Light,

CBG

[comebackgal]

Day 876:  Quit.  Again.  Non-smoker.

I’m a bit all over the place today, but that’s to be expected, and I know this rodeo; I quit smoking yesterday, and so today I am wiry, a bit irritable, and bit unfocused.  But, physically, I feel MUCH better.  I went to boxing class this morning and there was a notable difference in my cardio ability.  THAT makes me feel awesome.  I have definitely had cravings today, and almost caved around dinner time, but I remembered how many times I’ve been at THAT place before.  I’d quit for a day or four or a week, and then decide to have one, and we all know how that turns out.  So I sat with the craving, and battled my mind; I kept repeating my mantra: “Don’t think about what you’re giving up, think about everything you’re gaining.”  That helped and the craving passed.  I know that the cravings of the first few days are the worst, so I’ve just got to get through it and keep going.  Now that I’m a non-smoker, I think it would be helpful for me to make a list of all of the reasons I’m happy I don’t smoke anymore:

1) Increased physical ability

2) Less of a chance of dying of cancer, emphysema, etc.

3) Save money

4) No more guilt

5) No more fatigue

6) No more frantically washing my hands and praying I don’t smell in front of my clients

7) No more bad breath

8) Being able to smell better

9) Food tastes better

10) Skin looks better 

11) I FEEL BETTER OVERALL.  

The fatigue and shortness of breath that accompany smoking are HUGE motivators for me to not smoke.  I HATE feeling unhealthy, and bottom line, no matter how intense the craving for a cigarette, it’s not worth going back to that feeling.  So over the next few days, I will consult this list in times of weakness, because when my mind is in craving-mode, I am incapable of thinking rationally.  And I pride myself on rationality.  

Love & Light,

CBG

[comebackgal]

Day 874:  Wiped.

I’m wiped.  I went for my first run in a while after work today.  And it wore me out.  And now I want a nap, but it’s only 8pm.  And so here I am... I’d been boxing a lot lately which has a completely different impact on the body.  It’s high-intensity vs. the endurance aspect of running, and I’m a bit out of shape in the area, I’d say.  Anyways...

I GOT A NEW SPONSOR AND I’M REALLY EXCITED ABOUT HER!

It was a long time coming, and I’m really pumped to work with someone new and to reinvigorate that part of my program.  

That’s all for now.  More to come. 

[comebackgal]

Day 872:  A Greater Sense of Home

Feeling pretty A+ right now.  I had a busy but relatively stress-free day at work today, which, trust me, is NOT the norm.  Then I went to my boxing class, followed immediately by a meeting.  I hit all of my bases, and as a result, I feel great.  

I’m really loving that I’m finally, after a year of living here in Jersey, beginning to establish a sense of community here; it’s nice to go to meetings a few blocks from my house, and my boxing gym is just a few blocks in the other direction.  I’m beginning to see the same faces in town, from two different sources, and that feels really good.  It eliminates that pure “commuter” feeling, where everything you “do” is in the city, and you just sleep in the suburbs.  I really love Jersey City, and I love that I can walk to pretty much everything I need.  I love that it’s condensed, too; moreso than when I lived in Brooklyn, and even Manhattan.  I don’t think I’ve ever lived in an area of either where everything I did was within walking distance, and that feels really homey.  

And speaking of “homey,” S. and I have really worked hard (and continue) to do so to make our apartment as homey as possible, and it just feels so great.  It’s no longer just his space; when I moved in, we spent a lot of time decorating and moving things around and now our space truly reflects the convergence of our two lives.  And the pieces from each fit really nicely together; just like us.  Everything has been beautifully simple since the moment we met, and our home coming together is no different.  There’s a lot of heart in this home, and  I am very happy here.

I’m so thankful I’ve recommitted to AA and am going to more meetings again.  I never lost my gratitude for this program that literally saved my life, but it’s important for me to keep going and not get complacent so that I can do my part in giving back what was so freely given to me.

Love & Light,

CBG

[comebackgal]

Day 870:  Adult-ing

10:35 PM.  The end of another beautiful, full day.  I met a new friend for a meeting followed by coffee and croissants after, then we stopped by my apartment so she could meet our new kitten, and then we took a walk to the park to hang and chat.  Making friends in your 30s is a totally different experience than in your twenties and teens, especially when you’re sober.  By your 30s, you (hopefully) have a pretty solid foundation filled with other friends, perhaps a significant other, and possibly some children (of the human or fur variety).  When you’re in your 20s, it’s all about going out and partying, drinking- casual connections.  Your 30s take on a whole new dimension, and anyone you choose to bring into it has to simply fit, meaning both time-wise, as well as fitting in terms of converging with you on ideas, ideals, and level of life-satisfaction.  At least this is what I am finding.  Time just becomes too valuable to squander on meaningless relationships of any sort.  The 20s are for flippancy; your 30s are for depth and meaning.  And tonight, on the eve of my 32nd birthday, I am happy to report that I have a lot of depth and meaning in my life, and I am both proud and grateful for that.  

Here, in my 30s, I often find myself saying, thinking, and doing very adult-ish things.  Example:  “The is the car we subleased together.”  Or, “Should I invest more in my mutual fund, or keep it in savings for emergencies?”  You sign your name with someone else’s on Christmas cards, and you make long-term choices, like marriage, children, and mortgages.  All the “boring” things you tuned out from your parents are suddenly real entities in your life, and you’re interested in them.  And typically, you’re in bed by the time you would’ve only just begun to get ready to go out ten years prior.  Because you will be tired for work if you stay up too late, and you just don’t like being tired anymore.  Adult-ing. 

You couldn’t pay me to go back to my 20s.  Not even when you take into account my many, many mistakes.  I wouldn’t go back.  I wouldn’t change a thing.  I wouldn’t undo all of the messes I made, all the bad choices, all of the reckless behavior.  Granted, some of my reckless behavior could have gotten me killed, but, thankfully, it didn’t, and though cliched, it has all informed the being I am now.  Those times helped create the depth of now, and they make for some interesting, albeit often cringe-worthy stories.  

Tonight I ate McDonald’s for dinner.  The last time I did that was about six months ago, and I remember only because it is so very rare that I eat fast food. Ten years ago there are two reasons I would’ve eaten McDonalds:  either I was drunk and it was available, or I was so broke that the only thing I could afford were Dollar Menu items.  Neither of those scenarios was the reason for this evening’s fast food indulgence.  Tonight, S. looked at me, tired after a long day and said, “Wanna get McDonald’s for dinner?”  And I said “yes” without hesitation, because I too was tired and didn’t feel like trudging to the grocery store for lean chicken breast and kale.  And so we had a lovely American fast food dinner, comprised mainly of items off the $2 menu.  Inflation.  Adult-ing.

Hello, 32.  I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me.

CBG

[comebackgal]

Day 869:  Spirit-fueling

This extended holiday weekend has been really lovely, and the beautiful thing is that I have a whole other day before returning to work!  I’ve had a pretty spiritually-rich past couple of days.  

Yesterday I went to a meeting, wrote, sketched, and played chess with my boyfriend.  Today, I went to a meeting, sketched, spent time with my boyfriend’s daughter, read an entire book (!), and now here I am, writing.  My soul is full!  My spirit is happy! 

I am a bit fearful that I will not be able to keep this pattern once the craziness of work comes once again on Monday, yet I do feel fully committed to this (re)commitment, and so, I will try.

I am also planning on quitting smoking (again) tomorrow.  I am prepping myself to sit with some uncomfortable feelings, but I’ve been there before and I know I can do it.  After three days, the physical urges pretty much disappear, and then it’s just about maintaining the behavior of non-engagement in smoking.  Luckily, I have boxing and running as favorite allies, and the improvement in my cardio ability has (in the past) been noticeable almost immediately.  This is a huge motivator for me.  I relish feeling strong, powerful, and healthy.  So, I will direct my focus there and remind myself of that when a craving hits.  This ain’t my first time at the rodeo!

When I am engaged in the things the fulfill me, as I have been the past few days, I find other, externally-focused desires dissipate.  Like spending money, or obsessing over my hair/makeup/nails.  Though my personal self-care and beauty habits are beneficial to my overall wellbeing, like anything else, I tend to obsess over them when my Program isn’t in check.  My greatest weaknesses can also be my greatest strengths when I am vigilantly redirecting them away from harmful activities like smoking, eating poorly, and negative self-talk and towards things that it’s OK to get a bit obsessive with:  running, boxing, drawing, and writing.  When put to good use, my obsessions can be a great thing, but it’s a constant practice.  

I feel good.  Happy.  Comfortable.  Doing the things I’ve been doing for the past few days also alleviates my anxiety and quiets my otherwise racing mind.  My meditation looks a little different than others’ versions, but that’s the beauty of figuring oneself out and making your program yours. 

CBG

[comebackgal]

Day 868:  New Year, New (re)commitments

I hesitate to begin anything new on this day, as the stigma of broken New Year’s resolutions runs rampant.  However, the long weekend off from work, and the January break from grad school afford me the opportunity to do what I’ve not had much time to do lately; focus on me and my own self care.

When I first started this new job five months ago, I was warned against making it my recovery.  I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but now I do.  When I work with other addicts and alcoholics all day, supporting them in their own recovery and rallying them to go to meetings and engage in self-care, the last thing I want to do after work is go to a meeting.  Boxing-yes- I love beating the bejesus out of a heavy bag after a stressful work day, but sitting through an AA meeting at the end of my day just sounds so unappealing, and thus, I must admit it:  I’ve become complacent in my own recovery.  But I want to rectify that; I want to get back to some of my best habits:  meeting-making, sponsorship, and writing more.  And so, I begin, albeit with a healthy dose of wariness given the data surrounding the lasting-power of New Years’ resolutions.  But, one day at a time, right?

I went to a great meeting this afternoon; my second this week, which doesn’t sound like much, but is an improvement from the past few months where I found myself going to one meeting a week, maybe.  The positive impact meeting attendance has on my well-being is self-evident, and I’ve learned this over-and-over-and-over again.  I know that recovery is a lifelong process- it’s a practice- and I need and want to get back into shape.  

When I don’t regularly engage in the things that fill my heart and my soul (meetings, writing, running/boxing, drawing), I lean into self-destruction, and I have a plethora of ways in which I can outsource this life-long tendency: smoking, eating too much sugar, rumination, obsession- self-care negligence in general.  And I have fallen into some of those negative habits again.  The main one right now is smoking, and I feel guilty about it.  I am a fitness fanatic, and fitness model, after all and this split-life is ridiculous.  And at the same time, I understand why I’ve slipped back into it; my job is incredibly stressful, my boyfriend smokes, and, as mentioned, I’ve let my self-care slip a bit.  The habit makes me feel horrible physically, and yet I do it.  The parallels to my drinking past are clear.  Insanity, for sure.  

So, I want to quit, again, in theory.  I say “in theory” because I’ve already smoked today and will continue to do so.  I need to reread the book that has helped me quit smoking every time I’ve quit smoking (how’s that for paradox?), “The Easy Way to Stop Smoking,” and make a pros/cons list about it, and continue to exercise (because being reminded of the drop in my cardiac ability is a huge motivator for me), and continue going to meetings.  All of these things help, and so, I will do it...again.  It’s been an off-again-on-again process since May, when I relapsed on cigarettes in Paris.  And I can’t lie, I LOVED smoking in Paris, and I’m very aware of the romanticism I’ve attached to the situation, but the truth is, I did love lounging at the cafes, drinking espresso by the carafe, and smoking Parisian cigarettes (which somehow seem much kinder to my lungs than their American counterpart).  But let me be frank, smoking lesser quality cigarettes in New Jersey in the winter is in NO way romantic, and makes me feel unhealthy and weak; two of my least favorite ways to feel.  And thus, smoking must cease.  Very soon.

2015 was a really huge year.  My relationship flourished and we moved in together.  We also got a kitten.  I got a new job that in some ways, I was underqualified for, and have thus learned more than I could have imagined.  It challenges me both personally and professionally, and is most definitely outside of my comfort zone.  I fantasize at least 173 times a week about quitting it, but I want to learn more, grow more, and leave on good terms and with a solid recommendation in place, and so I stay.  My relationship with my parents improved.  My grandfather, who was the true patriarch of our family, died, bringing many tears, happy memories, and a sort of family restructuring.  I made some new friends, and parted ways with some others.  I ran my fourth half marathon.  I booked some really major-league fitness modeling jobs (most of which should be coming out in the media circuit very soon).  I parted ways with my first sponsor.  I’ve grown comfortable around children, namely my boyfriend’s daughter, and my (soon-to-be) sister-in-law’s son.  I subleased a car.  My credit score improved.  I experienced living on my own for the first time, and realized that I don’t love it as much as I’d thought I would.  I went to London, Paris, Prague, the Jersey Shore, and Florida (twice).  I worked as the lead researcher on a dissertation which earned a grant.  I learned how to pronounce many words in (Jersey) Italian, and perhaps in some ways related: I learned how to apply fake eyelashes.  Really well.

Big. Year. Bigger than my first year in sobriety (which was huge), and my second (which was even bigger).  I got sober when I was 29.  I’ll be 32 on Monday.  That span is incredible and unbelievable to me.  I have almost two and a half years sober, and I started this blog on day 3 (I think).  

Things aren’t perfect.  New growth brings new challenges, and this pattern will continue throughout the rest of my lifespan.  But, I am living this life.  I’m here for it everyday.  I no longer hide behind the haze of alcohol; procrastinating from the bottom of a vodka bottle in a feeble attempt to put off the fears associated with life.  I have tolerated immense pain in sobriety without picking up a drink, because I know to the depths of my core that alcohol will never fix or even adequately bandage any feelings I have.  The only way out is through.  

Today’s meeting was a Big Book meeting and we read the story, “Grounded”.  My favorite line and something I’ve been thinking about lately:  “I remembered that courage is not the absence of fear; it was the ability to continue in the face of it.”  More new chapters are about to begin in my life- big ones- and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have fear.  But I’ve learned enough by now to know that I just have to keep going.  One foot in front of the other.  Day by day, and allow whatever will be, to be.  

So maybe this isn’t about starting new things, maybe it’s more about recommitting to the old ones that I know work.  And as far as I’m concerned, there is NO stigma in that.

Happy and healthy New Year,

CBG

[comebackgal]

Day 769:  I want to GO.

I’m reflective tonight.  The result of having a rare evening to myself.  I have a new, very demanding, very challenging job; the exact type of job I was hoping to get at this point in my education.  I got, in short, exactly what I wanted.  And it’s HARD.  And I’m not actually sure it’s what I wanted after all.  But that’s OK.  It’s good for now.  But familiar old thoughts of wanting to purchase a round-the-world plane ticket and just escape it all have been abundant lately.  That feeling of wanting to run- to be free of it all-seeps into my daily routine; the cognitive season of escapism is ripe as of late.

This feeling is currently heightened because I just watched Wild, the true story of Cheryl Strayed (played by Reese Witherspoon) who hiked the Pacific Coast Trail, solo, following her mother’s death and her tumultuous divorce.  A lot of the film resonated deep within me, and i’m remembering the solo trips I’ve taken in sobriety; specific moments so visually sharp and emotionally-rich in memory that any snapshot would pale in comparison.  

I remember sitting on the back porch of Rhoda’s Guesthouse in St. Thomas, VI late at night, chain-smoking, eating Caribbean pastries, and laughing hysterically with my new friend Sachin, who was on a similar solo journey, and who was, of course, also from New York City.  (New Yorkers seem to find each other no matter what country they currently occupy).  We talked excitedly for hours about travel and freedom and being divorced.  I was very new in my sobriety, and I wasn’t very good at being still or knowing what to do with my hands, and so I ate the simple coconut pastries and I smoked the cheap American cigarettes in quick succession.  

Later the next day, we took an impromptu hike in foolish footwear (re: flip-flops) all over St. John, laughing and talking throughout.  We ate bad and way overpriced imported food.  We took pictures and when we needed time apart, I walked down the beach, away from him, and breathed it all in, greedily soaking up the sun as only a New Yorker who has just traveled to the islands in January can do.  

That was a wonderful trip and one of several solo journeys I took during that first year.  

Months later, right after I’d celebrated one full year of sobriety, I took myself to Costa Rica; a place I’d wanted to go for a long time.  I didn’t have anyone to go with me, and I liked it that way.  That was a long ten days, and I was challenged in many ways.  By that time, I had stopped smoking, and had become better at just existing, but I still ate a fair number of Spanish pastries, most of which I couldn’t pronounce.  The days were spent surfing; private sessions because it was the off-season and there were VERY few other people there.  I had a harmless and incredibly cliched romance with my surf instructor.  His English was far better than my Spanish, not that it mattered.  I befriended the guys that ran the surf school next to my hotel, and we joked and flirted, and there were evenings spent singing (me) and playing the guitar (them).  I briefly (but quite seriously) entertained the idea of moving down there- to Playa Grande- and becoming an investor in the new burger shack they were about to open on the beach.  I didn’t do that.  I came back to New York.  I begrudgingly went back to my third semester of grad school.  But for a long time, I wasn’t happy about it.  And for a long time, I (somewhat seriously) questioned my decision.  

A few months after Costa Rica, I went to LA by myself.  That trip turned out to be way more stressful than I imagined it would be.  For one, I had booked it in haste, and with a bit more impulsivity than I normally allow myself.  I was missing a couple of classes to be there, and as a result I had to do homework on the trip, which was an obvious buzzkill.  On top of that, I’d brazenly decided to rent a car.  I mistakenly thought that because I’d spent a fair amount of time in LA before- even living there for a few months back in 2008- that I’d be totally comfortable navigating the freeways.  This proved to be very faulty thinking on my part, and I had several panic attacks on the freeway and over the parking situation (or, rather, lack thereof) in Santa Monica, where I was staying.  Aside from that oversight though, I had a beautiful time running on the beach, exploring the beach towns, meeting up with old friends, and taking an exploratory drive to Malibu to check out Pepperdine, since at that point I was still considering moving to the West Coast for my PhD.  I remember other little snapshots from that trip, too; grocery shopping at the Whole Foods which was better and cheaper than it’s NY counterpart; getting the best gel manicure of my life on my last morning there; and attending a fantastic AA meeting in an actual meditation center (SOO LA).  

I want more of these trips.  I’ve had beautiful and awesome trips since with significant other, and I know that we will have many more.  But there’s something about solo exploration.  It’s different than anything else.  It’s lonely, and thrilling, and scary, and fun, and funny, and exhilarating, and stressful, but it’s so REAL and in the moment, and those memories seem to somehow be so much more vibrant than anything else.  Probably because they are so entwined with feeling; unique and very specific feelings that you may never again experience.  

I am content with where I am tonight; with where I am in life.  I have pretty much everything I’ve wanted and worked for.  And I am very, very grateful for all of it.  But I think deep down in all of us, there’s a quiet whisper of a longing to be free from it all; to be able to just go and do exactly as we please.  And I think that for some of us this whisper is a little bit louder than in others.  Mine is currently screaming and has been for quite some time.  I think it’s about time for another adventure.

To life.

CBG

[comebackgal]

Day 688:  Once an addict, always an addict

I don’t really want to write what I’m about to write, but I know that I have to.  I don’t want to write it because it is deeply shameful to me, but I cannot hide these things.  I do not want to live any part of my life in shamed secrecy.  

Tonight I had a bulimic episode.  It was the first time I’ve done it in sobriety.  In almost two years of complete abstinence from alcohol, I over-ate and then purged.  I have a long history of dealing with eating disorders, and was first diagnosed at the age of 15 or 16 with Eating Disorder Not-Specified; I would go days or weeks severely restricting my food intake, and then “lose control,” eating everything I possibly could, and then throw up.  This near-starvation-leading eventually to binge/purge lasted until I was about 21, at which point I entered an outpatient treatment program that helped me leave the binge/purge cycle behind.  I had to relearn how to eat, and as anyone who has ever dealt with an eating disorder knows, much like alcoholism, once you have the disorder, it never leaves you; you just learn to change your behavior.  After that initial bout of treatment, I had periodic but very infrequent bouts of binge/purge (B/P), but it never got anywhere near as bad as it had been in my late teens & early 20s.  When I was still an active alcoholic, I had my fair share of evenings where I would drink to the point of feeling sick, make myself throw up, and then drink some more, but since I got sober, I never went back; though there were several very trying times where I had to decide not to throw up.  

Tonight, for some reason, I decided to throw up.  I have several ideas for why:  1) I am PMSing hardcore right now, during which I ALWAYS feel a bit out of control with my eating. 2) I have been dieting/eating really really cleanly for about a month and a half, and have, admittedly probably restricted more than necessary, thus setting myself up for those old patterns.  3) I slept poorly last night and my anxiety has been a little higher than usual today.  All three of these things no doubt came together to create the perfect storm for me to B/P.  And because I truly believe in the recent studies that point towards willpower being a finite resource, I think I was just tapped out of the willpower required to A) Keep myself from B/P and 2) To stop eating once I felt full (another problem with PMS: I NEVER feel like I get full, regardless of how much I actually eat).

Because I am a psychologist-in-training, I am aware of the (somewhat) new research on the dual diagnosis phenomenon of bulimia & alcoholism, and none of it surprises me.  It also all fits me to a T.  Bulimics tend to be perfectionistic overachievers who for reasons specific to their environment, genetics, and a host of other reasons, feel a consistent sense of ego depletion & a need to regain control in their lives, and though I’m not fully aware of the reasons WHY I feel the need for the relief the B/P cycle brings, I do know that I HAVE that need.  

Bulimia, for those of us who have suffered from it, is like riding a bike.  It’s an addiction, like any other.  Once you’ve established the habit, no matter how long you’ve been in remission, you can always go right back to that place.  It feels very familiar, and it DOES bring that sense of relief, once it’s over and the food is out of you.  There have been many times in sobriety where I’ve felt feelings that were overwhelming at the time, and all I wanted to do was throw up.  I wanted that visceral feeling of removing every morsel from my body-- even if I hadn’t eaten.  It’s a feeling that’s very much connected physiologically for us.  But I didn’t do it.  I didn’t throw up those other times.  And I did tonight.  And I really don’t want to do it again.  The temporary relief does not match the shame felt after.  Which is also, of course, the reason (or rather, one of the many reasons) why I no longer drink.  The horrific feelings of guilt, embarrassment, shame, and illness I felt after drinking were simply no longer worth the very temporary experience of “checking out.”  Bulimia is a little trickier in some ways though, because it only really hurts the one doing it (at least in isolated incidences, which I pray to God this is).  And  alcoholics and bulimics share a self-destructive streak, but the very vivid memories of the pain my drinking caused others will, even in my absolute darkest moments when I care little for my own well-being, keep me from picking up the bottle.  It won’t always, as I (re)discovered this evening, keep me from B/P.  And that makes me sad.  Because I have learned to love myself again, and B/P-ing is not a behavior one does when they really love themselves.  So, this evening, I was off the mark.  But I don’t want to do it again.  Ever.  Even if that means sitting very uncomfortably full of food and/or emotion(s).  It’s not worth it.  I can’t/won’t do it again.

So, what can I do in the future to avoid this?  1) I can make sure I am eating enough. 2) I can accept the fact that I may not always be able to eat perfectly and adhere to “clean eating,” especially when hungry and PMSing.  3) I can acknowledge that I love myself in those moments when I’ve overeaten-- because bulimic or not, I am still human, and humans sometimes overeat.  4) I can practice mindfulness while engaging in the eating behavior; when I am able to do this, it slows me down and often times leads me to the place where I can stop eating before it becomes a binge.  

I realize that I have not been practicing self-love enough lately.  I wrote just yesterday about feeling deeply content and grounded.  And I am.  But that’s not, I’m realizing, quite the same thing as acceptance and loving myself.  I’m going to work more on that.  

This feeling I’m sitting with right now is not great.  But it’s reminding me that I have to be ever-vigilant with myself not just for alcohol, but for the behaviors that can lead me to B/P.  I am an addict through and through, and I need to be extra careful when dealing with anything that is known to be addictive.  After decades of struggling with addictions, I know that even when the behaviors aren’t present, the disorder still lingers.  Once an addict, always an addict.  And I accept that, but I CAN take steps towards avoiding the behaviors that present in active addiction.  

Now I have to move on.  I have to try as best I can to put tonight behind me, as I arm myself with understanding and a resolve to stay on the beam

Thanks for letting me share. <3

[comebackgal]

Day 686:  Independence, in the Freudian Sense

So, I haven’t been doing so great at keeping up writing every day (obviously).  I’m going to try to get better at that.  And now that that White Elephant has been called out, let’s move on.

I had a long and really nice conversation with my mother this evening.  The first of it’s kind in quite a while.  When I was getting divorced and getting sober, I talked to her several times a day.  She was instrumental in helping me to get back on my feet-- or, rather, to help me finally learn how to walk properly on my feet for the first time in my life.  But as time has passed and my life has grown exponentially, we talk far less than we used to.  It makes me a bit sad in a way, but it’s also indicative of the autonomy I needed to establish, as well as the differentiation I needed to achieve.  I am an adult.  I have been for a while-- at least in terms of my age.  But I had a lot of growing up to do, and I’ve done it (and am still doing it) in sobriety.  And as a part of that, I needed to separate myself from my mother a bit, so that I could establish my own life, develop my own ways of thinking, and generally just become more independent in the positive ways one is meant to.  And so, I’ve done that.  And now I’m enjoying establishing a new relationship with my family.  I certainly don’t have it all figured out, but I am working on it.  Tonight’s conversation was a really nice dialogue reflective of the type of relationship I want.  I’m very grateful.

In other news, I had my last therapy session on Monday.  (I can’t ignore the blatant Freudianism of the paragraph I just wrote, and this one about ending therapy.  So, here’s another White Elephant I’m acknowledging).  Anyways, it was a really solid session, and I felt properly sad afterwards; not too sad, just the right amount of sad.  It’s time for me to move on.  I’d been seeing Dr. T. for over two years.  The work I did with her was invaluable.  She was there for all of the aftermath, and all of the rebuild.  The people in my life have no doubt become almost as real to her as they are for me.  She often times remembered details even I’d forgotten.  She’d become an incredibly perceptive and sage sounding board for me, and I will definitely miss her guidance sometimes.  But, I feel the need to stand on my own two feet in terms of that aspect of my life as well.  I needed a break.  I will definitely go back to therapy at some point (I mean, as a soon-to-be professional in the field, it’s required anyways), but I feel the need to test my own Bambi-like legs out in the world, and so perhaps the transference I didn’t feel as though I was having, was, in fact present all along, because I write this, I see the clear parallel between the relationship with my mother and that of Dr. T.  Huh.  Tricky how this therapy stuff works.  

Anyways, I realize that I have been feeling very peaceful- very content for quite a while now.  And that doesn’t mean that I’ve been feeling ecstatically happy all the time.  That’s not it.  I just feel deeply grounded; richly secure.  I feel like everything is going to be just fine.  And while I’ve always known that connection, I realize that I’ve come to feel it, as well.  Things aren’t as heavy as they used to be, and as a result, I’ve found I can carry a lot more.  

Happy Independence Day, all.  

[comebackgal]

Day 675:  Ideas into Action

I missed a couple of days of writing because...well, life (and poor planning).  I already missed this outlet!  I’m glad to be back...

A nice past couple of days.  Relatively calm and happy.  Yesterday was Sunday, which has traditionally always been a bit of a down day for me-- I’d always find myself becoming a bit depressed on Sundays in the past.  But now, I’ve come to love them.  A few months ago, I put an idea I’d had for a little while into action;  I started a sober running group.  My desire to do so was two fold; I wanted to be involved in a running group that didn’t culminate their runs (like so many do) at a bar, downing beer.  And, I wanted to show others in the sober community how good running feels and to spread my knowledge of exercise’s positive effect on anxiety & depression, which so many alcoholics suffer from. I’m proud to say the running group has been a big hit.  And since it’s inception, I’ve lead a group run pretty much every Sunday.  It’s even created a bit of a buzz throughout the community and I now have a lot of recovering alcoholics and addicts approaching me at meetings and on the web to get more info.  It’s been hugely rewarding and I am so glad that I ACTED on an idea I had.  I was scared to at first, but once I saw how much interest there was, I felt compelled to move forward.  

Anyways, my Sundays have now become AWESOME.  I go to work for a few hours in the morning, then head to the meeting spot in the afternoon, lead the group through 3-5 miles, and then we high-five and take our endorphin-pumped selves out for snacks and refreshments.  And then I go to the big meeting I love so much in BK, and by the time I get back to Jersey City, I am exhausted but happy.  I have changed my Sundays completely.  That’s an example of a true behavioral reframe, and I am so grateful for that.  I only wish I had started it sooner...but isn’t that what everyone says whenever they put an idea they’ve had into motion?  

Through the running group, I’ve also met a lot more people, and thus my sober network has expanded tenfold.  I’m very grateful for this, too, because I don’t always find it easy to just strike up a conversation with a newcomer or other sober person, as recommended by the program.  But through this channel, I have a purpose, and I’ve found it very easy to talk to others about it.  This follows my own personal guidelines for trying to lead an open and fearless life.  It’s not always easy, but day-by-day, with practice, I am becoming better at it.  

One day at a time.

[comebackgal]

Day 672:  Put it out there

What a day.  Early morning beach shoot that was fun, yet exhausting.  Then working until close at the spa.  And then the second birthday party of the week with my dear boyfriend’s family.  I was exhausted, and everyone was a bit batty this evening, but it was still fun, and I still enjoyed myself.  They really make me feel like family, which is just absolutely invaluable to me.  There’s always so much laughter and togetherness, and that makes me so happy.  And I don’t have to “be on” with them.  I was shown very early on in my relationship with them that it’s enough for me to just show up and “be,” and that brings me so much comfort.  I love him & adore them, even when there are little riffs amongst the group.  Their family demonstrates lasting love and acceptance, and how beautiful that is.

I’ve been working really hard lately on all the things I need to do to keep working as a model.  I’ve built up my portfolio, met a new agency, strengthened the relationship with my long-term agency, and have just really given my all lately, and that makes me feel good because I faced some fears I’ve had in that arena and so now, if I “fail” (whatever that means), I can at least rest easy knowing I did my part.  That’s something I’ve always strived for, but when I am really honest with myself, a lot of times in the past, I’ve cut myself short-- went 95% of the distance required, but allowed fear to prevent me from going for (and thus, achieving) that last 5%.  I did it within a lot of areas of my life: school, jobs, even relationships, but I’m not doing that anymore.  I’m now really working hard on showing up and doing 100% of what I need to do, and thus far, the results have been positive.  It takes so much courage to accept failure as a possibility.  So much courage to really put yourself “out there,” even when you have doubts, but my God, I’m going to keep really giving it my all.  As far as I know, I only have this one life, and within sobriety, I’ve really been LIVING this life.  

I’ve got sand in my hair and I’m a little bit sunburned from being out in the elements today, but My God, do I ever feel alive.  And, at peace.

Sending love and light out into the universe this eve. <3