I Used to Sniff Lines in Toilets, Now I Meditate (Sometimes)
Alright, Let’s Be Honest From the Get-Go
If you’d told me four years ago that I’d be writing a book – let alone one about trying to live without numbing the shit out of life – I would’ve laughed in your face. Probably mid-way through a line at some random house party, pouring my trauma out to a stranger who definitely didn’t ask. That was me. I was chaos in heels, vodka in hand, numbing everything I could because feeling anything felt like too much. Responsibility… No thank youuuuu.
Now I meditate… sometimes. Not every day. Sometimes I’m just lying on the floor wondering what the fuck I’m doing with my life. But I do it. Sometimes. And sometimes is better than nothing.
This book isn’t some five-step plan to enlightenment. It’s not here to tell you to get up at 5am, journal for an hour, drink green juice, and align your chakras before breakfast — although I’ve tried them all. It’s not polished, it’s not perfect, and neither am I. It’s a flick-through, dip-in-when-you-need-it kind of book. For the ones who are tired of pretending they’ve got their shit together.
I’ve tried to be the barefoot, crystal-waving guru. I really did. In early sobriety, I slapped on that Buddha mask hard, thinking if I just did enough yoga and lit enough sage, I’d stop wanting to self-destruct. Spoiler: it didn’t work. Because underneath it all, I was still me. Still the girl from Wakefield who used to neck vodka just to make it through the day. Still someone who sometimes feels the urge to call someone a c**t in traffic. Still someone who sometimes rolls a joint when I know I probably don’t need it — but I don’t beat myself up for it anymore. Because I’m still here. Still trying.
This isn’t a self-help book. This is a “fuck it, let’s try” book. A “maybe this will help today” book. A “just give me something to hold on to for now” kind of book.
I’ve written this for the ones who are fed up with numbing their lives away. For the ones who’ve tried to be seen by telling their trauma to the wrong people, hoping someone would come along and save them. For the ones who’ve shouted into the void, “I can’t keep doing this,” and meant it. This isn’t about becoming someone else — it’s about finally stopping the running and saying, “Alright. You’ve got this. We can feel this.”
Because I get it. I’m not perfect. I still have urges. I still have dark days. But I’m learning how to stay. Learning how to sit in it. Learning how to feel it.
You don’t need to be fixed. You’re not broken. You’re just tired. Tired of the noise, the pretending, the fucking performance of it all. So here we are. You and me. No filters. No bullshit. Just truth. And maybe some laughter, maybe some crying — both are welcome here. Both are needed. Because this isn’t about numbing anymore. This is about finally feeling, even if it’s messy as fuck. Feeling our way to Freedom.
..... To be continued, let me know if this is something you would read.