#mlrecovery

[measuringlife]

The John Mayer song 1983 has always been a favorite, however, if I were to write a song that was an ode to a year (and one day I just might since one of my not-so-secret dreams is to write a Broadway musical) it would be a song titled 1997. For me, 1997 was a big year of changes. It was the year I transitioned from the same private Catholic school I was at for grades 1-8 to an all-girls Catholic high school. It was the year we got a desktop Hewlett-Packard computer and AOL at home. It was a year when I was getting really into music, both the pop music of Hanson (who I still love) and the rock tunes of Eve6 and Bush. Rushing home to watch my beloved Carson Daly on MTV or listening to Z100 on my new cd-player boom box. 1997 was also the last year that my home wasn't "broken." Well, in all honestly my home was always broken, but after 1997 it became broken to the outside world. My parents separated and my Dad moved out in June 1998 right as my freshman year of high school ended leaving my sister and me to be primarily "cared" for our mentally unstable alcoholic mother. For both my sister and I, 1997 is a crystal clear frozen moment in time, it was the end of our innocence. I think that is the main reason why I love all the 1990s nostalgia, particularly the music. Over the last few weeks I've attended some fantastic concerts - Incubus, Hanson, and Darius Rucker especially when he's singing Hootie tunes (fun fact Cracked Rear View was one of the first CDs I ever owned, the first was the Clueless soundtrack). For me, music is so cathartic. It's painful and healing all at the same time. Going to concerts is one of my absolute favorite things to do in the world. I'd like to think I go to more concerts than your average 35-year-old, but for me, concerts are a combination of church and therapy. One of my mantra's on my recovery and healing journal has become you have to feel it to heal it. Music lets me feel and heal in a way that makes me feel safe. #recoveryjourney #healingjourney #selfcare #selflove #nostalgia #abandonment_issues #brokenhome #childofdivorce #adultchildrenofalcoholics

[measuringlife]

Growing up with an alcoholic mother in a dysfunctional household I took on the role of “hero child.” This is a role my inner child has continued to carry with me. In the last 5 years due to neglectful/disinterested bosses and authority figures my inner child manifested as a workaholic. Things hit an all time low last summer due to insurmountable work stress and lack of staff/structure/support. It took hitting rock bottom to seek out the therapy and support in #ACA that I needed to begin this recovery journey. As I approach my peak season at work this year I hope I can maintain the boundaries I’ve set and maintain my emotional sobriety. #adultchildrenofalcoholics #selfcare #aca #acoa #recoveryjourney

[measuringlife]

Cha-Cha-Cha-Changes

So I realized I don't think I mentioned here that ~2 weeks ago my boss told me he is leaving for a new opportunity elsewhere. It took all my self-control to not be like GOOD RIDDANCE. That’s half true, he is a very nice man, but he never made any real effort to understand or support my work. He didn’t intentionally harm me, but there were so many opportunities where he could have offered help or suggestions when I was a 1 person office and he never did. Clearly he’s been “done” for some time and that shows up in his lack of interest in investing in me or my work. 

With that being said the whole University and my division are going through strategic planning processes. I am no stranger to these and have been a part of them at previous institutions. I know this is a time to give ideas and be heard. With this has also been re-org talk which in the case of my work makes SO MUCH SENSE. I’ve been thinking about where in the org chart I am, and where my team belongs. 

Late last week I heard an interim person was going to be tapped when my boss leaves which is normal (spoiler alert it’s not me, nor would I expect/want it). However yesterday I’m in a meeting and my VP (aka my boss’s boss calls me). I was near her office so when I got out of my meeting I popped by and we were able to chat. She told me about who she named as interim and how they are going to lead that team, however, she said that she’d like ME to report to her in the interim because: 1. I don’t make sense on the team I’m on and 2. she wants to get a deeper understanding of my work and the needs of my area to be best supported. 

DUDE! I feel great. She NOTICES ME and VALUES ME! I am excited to see how I can leverage this opportunity and see where it takes me!

[measuringlife]

Parallel Lives

So as I’ve mentioned here this summer I came to terms with my identity of being an Adult Child of an Alcoholic (ACA). I started learning more about this identity last January after a particularly traumatizing Christmas at my mom’s. 

It’s unbelievable how much my mother’s addiction has shaped me. The more I read and talk with my counselor and ACA group the more I learn about myself, how to cope, and how to choose myself despite being manipulated by an addict. I was taught that anything my mom didn’t essentially like/approve of/suit her was “bad.” And more than anything I have this overwhelming desire to be a “good girl.” 

I get guilted for not living in New York or jumping at her every need. She’s 66 (today actually is her birthday which led to a stressful call) and physically healthy. Heck she’s intelligent and funny too. Nothing I do/could do (even again my better sense) is going to help her. She needs to change for herself PERIOD.

This summer I came across this blog and holy hell it’s like I WROTE it. The weirdest part is that she starting writing the day I went to my first ACA meeting. There’s some amazing honestly, sadness, but also humor here too. If you love someone struggling with addiction or just a fan of good writing check it out

http://grumpysunshine.com/

[measuringlife]

Counseling

Through my job’s Employee Assistance Program I’m able to have 6 free sessions with a counselor. I just had my 3rd session this morning. I actually took it upon myself in late June to inquire about setting up an appointment and around that time when getting coffee with a trusted colleague (and having a complete breakdown) he also suggested I meet with her. I’m glad I have. 

I haven’t gone to much counseling the last 10 years or so. I saw 1 or 2 therapists in high school around the time my parents separated and my Dad moved out. I also saw a school counselor in high school when I was going through some friend drama and after a car accident I was in as a new driver.  

In college, I didn’t see anyone and really didn’t feel like I needed to. In grad school I had a faculty member who was a “confidant” of sorts and given her sociology background I would argue she was a pseudo-counselor. We mostly talked about me grappling with the fact that my Dad quietly came out of the closet as a gay man (have I ever shared that here before? I’m not sure - it’s still something I struggle to talk about since he died before I could fully embrace and understand) and how he was not out to my Mom and many other people back in NY (at this time he was living in Florida). 

6 months after grad school my Dad unexpectedly died of complications of gastric bypass surgery. I had just started a new job in Texas only 2.5 hours from my Dad who was also now in Texas. So I went back to counseling for about 6 months before I moved to Alabama, that was 2008.

I’ve had loving and wonderful friendships and found community here, but since 2008 I haven’t sought professional help. This summer was a wake up call for self-care and not letting negative patterns repeat themselves. So my plan is to meet monthly with the work counselor for the remainder of the year and then I’ll likely find a counselor to see outside of this short-term work benefit. I am also planning to continue my ACA (Adult Children of Alcoholics) meetings every other week. These meetings conflict with my FAVORITE Body Pump class and going to this class will also bring me joy, so the plan is to rotate between the two every week.

My lesson from today’s counseling session is: I’m ENOUGH

[measuringlife]

This is what a month of self care looks like for me. After being forced into "survival mode" at work for many months, I began to notice a pattern in myself and my emotions. This is still a newly realized identity, but one that has shaped me more than I ever realized. I have a lot of work ahead of me, but it's nice be part of a supportive community with shared experiences. ACA borrows many traditions from AA, so today I was awarded my 1 month coin along with someone who earned their 4 year coin. #atimetoheal

[measuringlife]

Measuring Me: Rock Bottom

June I think may forever be a triggering month for me. This week marked two years ago sick I hit rock bottom. Today at my Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACA) meeting our reading was about rock bottom. I’ve experienced more than my fair share of lows, but never did I understand the hall consuming despair and spiraling that leads to hitting rock bottom.  

It feels both like yesterday and a lifetime ago. I was in such a dark and hopeless place. I wasn’t sleeping and I was crying non-stop = together that was a toxic mix especially when driving.  I remember after a long string of sleepless nights and hysterically crying while driving to work. I’m not proud to admit this, but there were moments that I *wished* in my overtired hysterics that I would lose control of the car and get into a car accident that would hospitalize me for a period of time. I didn’t know how to prioritize myself or set boundaries and I was *hoping* for some external force to step in.

Thankfully while in the throes of this time I had the wherewithal to know I needed some professional help and set up a meeting with the counselor through my employer’s employee assistance program. I actually had my first meeting with her on the last day of my major events season, it was a Tuesday. I survived 6 weeks of hell, that had had a 5 month build up of hell.  I don’t remember if I cried in that first meeting, I may not have had any tears left at that point.

Even in my fragile state we were able to cover enough to have her encourage me “go directly to ACA, do not pass go, do not collect $200.” It’s funny a few months before this meeting around the holidays I had learned that ACA (Adult Children of Alcoholics) even existed. I think I looked up if there were any local meetings - thinking surely there weren’t because somehow I would have known about them. I was wrong they existed. I found a meeting, less than 2 miles from my house on Wednesday night. A week and a day after that first meeting with the counselor I walked through the doors to this meeting - the reality was my soul limped in since like many other trauma survivors we are the walking wounded. I cried through most of the meeting, I think out of relief. I finally felt like I fit somewhere and this sense of calm washed over me.

Bit by bit clawed towards the daylight while healing myself in the process. Last June, I got myself a life coach and joined his group coaching program. I was forced to dig deep, in a way that ACA never pressured me to dig, but as I’ve now learned you need to “feel it, to heal it.” As whole as I felt last June, I’m thrilled that this year I am not just surviving, but I am thriving. My boundaries, my self care, my recovery, my relationships, my finances, my fitness, my writing, my time management, my goals, my purpose...they are all the best they’ve ever been and all at the same time. If things can go from not just good to great, but okay to great in a year then I’m sure as hell curious where I’ll be from great by this time next year.

I’ve always loved the notion of a Phoenix rising from the ashes. Other quotes that I clinged to during the burning were “It’s always darkest before the dawn.” and “If you are going through hell keep on going.” Finally, I hated to cling to was “It’s not happening to me, it’s happening for me.” As mentioned I didn’t classify how I felt 2 years ago as suicidal, but I sure as hell wasn’t well. I would be remiss not to add - if you or someone you know is considering suicide, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255) or text “home” to the Crisis Text Line at 741-741 or go to suicidepreventionlifeline.org. If you haven’t heard this song about suicide and the lifeline from Logic I highly encourage you to check it out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kb24RrHIbFk

[measuringlife]

Measuring Monday: Animal Lover

Inspired by all my pet sitting, here is my free-write about being an animal lover

I just passed my 6-month mark of my pet sitting side hustle. I sit through Rover and now also independently due to repeat clients and referrals. My friend AY(I really have a lot of friends with A names) I think first mentioned Rover to me because she asked me to watch her senior pup and said something about “usual Rover sitter” or something. So back in the fall I checked in on her little girl, taking her for walks, making sure she had food and water, and also gave her some attention. From there I decided to look into Rover, then set up an account, had some pet owner friends write some references/recommendations for me and then I was off. I think I had the profile up for like a week or so before I got my first request. I set up a meet and greet with the owner and pets and then I was off to the races! I have to say I have bonded with 90% of clients and genuinely get sad to say goodbye to them. Thankfully most of my clients are repeat clients so I get to build a great relationship with these pets. I sit mostly for dogs or dog owners who also have a cat, however lately I’ve had a few cat only clients and they’ve all been great too.

Pet sitting has proven to be a lucrative side hustle. As a high strung dog mom I get it, Freddie is old, extremely particular, and is now on 4 different pills a day taken at 3 different intervals. The whole pet market has exploded thanks to Millenials who are opting for pets over children like me. People want the best for their family and Freddie is my family and 90% of the pets I sit for rule the roost much like Fred. I get satisfaction both in spending the time with the animals, but also knowing that I am giving comfort and peace of mind to the owner.

I do have to say I’m still surprised that I am such a good dog mom/pet lover because I certainly grew up in a home where pets were things, not family members. I won’t say the animals in my home were neglected, but they were not given a life that I would want any animal I own to have. They were often in crates or tied up, not groomed often, or taken to the vet regularly. I remember as a child feeling very torn about how to treat the animals. I wanted nothing more than to have a dog sleep in my bed, but my mother wouldn’t have it. I wanted to take the dogs out for walks, but my mom didn’t want me outside by myself with them. So when it came down to it, at the time the pets weren’t worth causing drama with my mom.

I’ve had my childhood pets on my mind and in my heart lately, especially when I see how I am so capable of loving all dogs and cats - as much as Freddie is the chosen one, I also sort of thought maybe I only loved him so hard because I got him when I was so young and so soon after my dad died, but I see how I am capable of loving animals period. In my Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACA) meeting last week, during my share I had planned to talk about what I just wrote, but in that moment I also made the connection that as a child I could recognize the poor care or lack of care our pets got, especially our two little girl dogs, but it wasn’t until that moment that I realized that our two girl dogs were living a parallel life to my sister and me. As a child I saw the dogs weren’t cared for properly, but I wasn’t able to recognize that my sister and I weren’t cared for properly either. That was a huge A-HA moment and will hopefully help me push through continued denial or minimizing of how I grew up.

My sister and I at least got out of my mom’s house unlike those pets who all lived extremely long lives. Skippy, a miniature poodle, my parents got before I was born and he died when I was in 3rd grade lived to be 17.  Our cat, Amber, who we got a year or so after Skippy died lived to be like 21. When I got a little older we got two Maltese, Molly and a year later we got Beeper. They lived to be ~16 and ~13 respectively. I gotta tell you if nothing else, growing up like we all did in that house did anything for us,  it made us resilient AF. These pets also learned to thrive in adversity. I hope to see these childhood pets across the rainbow bridge one day and we can have a good hug and cry together. Until then I will love and cherish any and all animals in my care.