Before our children were even born, my husband and I agreed that the one principle we would never abandon in our house is that we would marinate our family in love. That proved to be successful 30 years later but awfully challenging to practice when we wanted to quickly solve problems and eliminate pain. Marination takes time and love brings healing but not before the pain. Franciscan Monk Richard Rohr has written about pain many times. One of his famous quotes is, “If you don’t transform your pain you will transmit your pain.” I thought about this for many years as I was rediscovering myself after alcohol addiction. This moment of participating in our daughter’s transformation from single to married woman brings with it great joy and deep reflection on the years she and her husband have ahead of them, including pain. I hope her childhood of marinating in love brings strength, emotional depth, richness and solace to her in the years that lie ahead.
In less than 3 weeks our daughter is marrying her high school sweetheart. The longevity of the relationship really adds to the normal sweetness of a wedding in so many ways. Neither of them had a driver’s license when they met in carpool, for instance! That’s a long time friend. To add to the sentimentality of the occasion my daughter and her fiance have chosen my lifetime friend (because our Dads became friends in boarding school in 1945), to officiate their wedding. There will be alot of history, familiarity and excitement in the church and afterward. I’m trying to conserve my emotional reserves right now, and as a “feeler” in general, this is not an easy business.
I came down with a nasty case of shingles a few weeks ago that went undiagnosed and therefore improperly treated during the incredibly painful phase for several days. This, in spite of “doing everything right” and getting a vaccine and booster to prevent. As a newly diagnosed ADHD Gen X 60 year old “young old” woman, the amount of executive function planning and executing the prevention of this horrible situation was vast (for me). And now the emotional regulation (of which I have been largely operating on a low fuel tank for 60 years) it is taking to quietly ride this situation out while the hourglass vividly dispenses with the narrowing timeframe I have for healing before the big day is challenging me. I had to quickly write this before my first gabapentin (for neuralgia pain) because of the fatigue. I’m not in control of what’s happening, of course, and this bout with a painful condition reminds me I never was. All I can do is stay calm and heal.
Oh, and to throw in some emotional confetti to the mix, I am grieving my dear friend Caryl, who would have delighted in every moment of this wondrous period of my life. Caryl would have been eager to hear minute details, including how I was feeling through every magical moment (from her perspective) of the Mother of the Bride experience. I still feel her presence and support and our friendship connection could never be broken by the separation from her death. But it HURTS alot right now. I was not expecting my daughter’s wedding to uncover a gaping hole I apparently feel from the loss of Caryl, but it did. Another situation I can’t do anything about. All I can do is stay calm and heal.
On the morning of my wedding 30 years ago, my sweet cousin Pete recalls watching my Mom just before the ceremony, and she commented to him “I think I’m going to moan!” I thought that was HILARIOUS for years. And now here I am in the same situation. Time has a way of giving us the gift of perspective but often, tragically, only after it is too late to offer the person experiencing the raw emotion from the past an expression of kindness and empathy. I don’t think I will moan at my daughter’s wedding but there is no guarantee I won’t because I have never been here before. Out of consideration for her, I plan to focus on something interesting about the architecture of the church when I feel an “emotional swell.”
This marriage signifies a change in our lives and expansion of our family and that is good. But as a Mom, I can’t help but see the darling little girl who filled my heart and home with so much life, curiosity, intensity, courage, spirit, connection and unwavering purpose moving forward without me. The same feeling I had driving away from her precious blond head walking towards her dorm at the University of Arkansas 9 years ago. Oh, that Brandi Carlile song, “You Without Me,” better not start blasting in my brain as I watch her Dad walking her down the aisle:
“There you are, my morning star, I wondered when you’d show Give me just a quick thumbs up, a wink before you go I never heard that voice before today, I remind myself to breathe I’m ever just a thought away, if ever you need me You’re gonna live a lot of life you’re gonna see a lot of years God willing, just you without me There you are, just you without me”
“You Without Me” Brandi Carlile
And so, I am choosing to view my life right now as a quiet house rather than an empty one. I will find myself again during the quiet days and on the rambunctious days I get to reunite with my adult children and their beloved people, I will simply marinate in love.
When I was very young, my Mom let me go on a mini adventure one afternoon with a nun from our small town parish. Her name was Sister Arthur, and like the name suggests, she had a (in my mind) tall stature and commanding presence. For reasons to which I was never privy, it was determined to be a good idea for me to join Sister Arthur on a little field trip about an hour away from home to an ancient Indian burial ground in search of treasures. What precocious child wouldn’t want to venture out for such an adventure?
As best I can guess, Sister Arthur must have taken me to the Towosahgy State Historic Site in East Prairie, Missouri. According to the Missouri State Parks website, this location is “surrounded by some of the most fertile farmland in Missouri….a former fortified village and civic-ceremonial center for Mississippian peoples who lived in southern Missouri between A.D. 1000 and A.D. 1400.” I believe what is pictured is what my young eyes saw that day. While I cannot remember anything Sister Arthur said to me that day, I vividly recall feeling a sense of wonder and reverence. The sight of her hands holding an arrowhead and telling me something about how it was made and its purpose is emblazoned in my memory, though exact words I cannot recall. I just remember feeling very special to have been chosen for this wondrous one-on-one field trip. I always wondered, “where have all the people who used to live here gone?”
The impact of that single exposure to something so massively important to civilization sparked a curiosity in me about excavating artifacts. I began digging and searching around my home and surrounding farmland for similar treasures, only to come up with handfuls of limestone rock, usually. That Christmas my grandmother nurtured my curiosity and gave me a rock polisher. While I never returned to the sacred Indian mound, I imagined treasures of my own from mini digs I conducted in the fertile farmland around my house. I never found another arrowhead but I will never forget the spark of interest Sister Arthur ignited that afternoon so long ago. The idea that it was possible to unearth tools that gave clues about how people thought and lived thousands of years before you was the first evidence I had ever encountered that people really are all connected.
I’m 58 years old now and have recently become reacquainted with that budding archeologist who spent the afternoon with a “scientific nun” so many years ago. I recently lost my Mom, the first person to believe me worthy of such an important field trip (or maybe she just needed an afternoon alone!), and what I keep returning to is the importance of excavating the truth. Instead of artifacts, through yoga, I have begun searching for the truth about myself. Hip pain led me to yoga and fate or serendipity or both led me to the Yoga Teacher Training I have been involved in for 3 months. One truth about myself I live with everyday is my former addiction to alcohol and the shadow of lies from that always nearby.
To maintain sobriety is to commit to the daily discipline of pursuing the truth. Lies can be alluring hiding places but they always betray you when you want protection the most. Through yoga, I have been introduced to the brilliant writings of Rolf Gates (“Meditations from the Mat”). A few days ago, I read and reread Rolf Gates’ reflection on self-study (“svadhyaya” in Sanskrit, meaning self-study and one of the five sustaining practices in the practice of yoga).
“The unconscious wants truth. It ceases to speak to those who want something else more than the truth.” Adrienne Rich
“Self-study is an aspect of the practice of truthfulness……The good news is that truth is music to the soul. There is no end to the soul’s ability to bask in the presence of the truth. Millions of people in twelve-step programs sit around in church basements by the hour, listening to one another talk about themselves. It may sound boring, but in fact it is captivating, because the people in those rooms are telling the truth. It is captivating because spending time in the presence of others who are telling the truth inspires us to do the same.
To practice this aspect of self-study, examine the level of truthfulness in your workplace, family, and friendships. How much time do you spend in the presence of people who are telling the truth? How much do you spend with people who are not? What is it like when you hear the truth? What is it like when you do not? What fears keep you from being honest? Is it true that like attracts like? Does honesty beget honesty?”
Today, as I celebrate my ninth year of sobriety, my Google pics showed me this “funny” photo I took at a restaurant exactly 11 years ago, a time when I was deceiving myself about my truth. I thought this message about day drinking was funny. I thought by throwing my life away each day, little by little, I was really having fun and attracting the right people and things in my life. It makes me sick I once believed that throwing my life away in front of my children and husband was “funny.” There is nothing funny about not being able to live your truth.
As I have slowly excavated my truths and begun building a life of honesty and authenticity, I have observed the impact of this commitment on the people I love. It has had opposite effects: some people have thrived and grown and others have recoiled and shut me out. I’m never going back to not living my truth. If you had told me at the beginning of my sober journey 9 years ago that I would one day be working at my favorite organization and pursuing a yoga teaching certificate, I probably would have tried to protect myself with a “joke” about needing wine or margaritas or some other distraction to sustain me. I wouldn’t have been able to see myself living a happy, healthy, truthful life because to me that seemed so far out of reach in addiction. My familiar pain was more comforting than the effort excavating truth sounded like.
I have found truth in the eyes of the people with disabilities my workplace serves everyday, on my yoga mat and at home with my beautiful family. Most importantly, I wake up and go to sleep each day thanking the spiritual connection that sustains me for helping me to face the truth one day at a time. In addiction, I forgot to love that adorable little girl who was so curious about life and interested in excavating truths. She wasn’t worried about what anyone else was doing, thinking or saying because she was so completely enraptured by nurturing her own loves. I recently excavated this child and oh, what a fun adventure we are beginning.
This morning as I was going through my Facebook memories (sadly the best compilation I have of all my recent goings-on socially and in general), I saw a post from 2017 of myself drinking coffee as an act of rebellion against “National Drink Wine Day.” “Bravo, You,” I said to myself, for I have achieved nothing in my life that didn’t include a little sense of rebellion against authority, status quo, ridiculousness. What surprised me after a quick Google search was that 3 years later “National Drink Wine Day” is still a thing in America. This, in spite of the fact that American women age 40 and older are the fastest growing group of alcoholics (or persons with alcohol use disorder, if you prefer) in our country today. Right along with alcohol use disorder rates of liver disease, cancer and heart disease are rising because of the poisonous levels of toxins we barrage our bodies with when we drink alcohol. But sure, let’s celebrate that “win” and Rose all day. Or not.
I’m not bashing the right of people to enjoy their wine whenever they want. Lord knows, struggling to stay sober for the past years, I have learned to accept that people will continue to drink in spite of evidence it is bad for them, just like smoking. It’s the cultural acceptance of self-sabotage that I don’t accept, hence these brief thoughts from a Woman in Recovery on a national day designated to celebrate what for many of us is simply a sad existence.
Like any revolution, great thinkers and role models are emerging from the non-drinking community. I am reading Holly Whitaker’s “Quit Like a Woman: The Radical Choice To Not Drink In a Culture Obsessed With Alcohol” currently. She compares today’s rising rates of alcohol abusers (binge drinking among women is at an all time high) to the era when Big Tobacco spent massive amounts of advertising dollars to convince consumers cigarette smoking was a safe, adventurous and romantic complement to anyone living a full life. Our collective thinking has come very far since the “Don Draper”Mad Men days where drinking and smoking throughout the business day were considered well-deserved rewards for hard work. Yet alcohol continues to hold a powerful grip on so many of us it is considered a “radical choice” not to drink these days.
I will tell you this, if I had not stopped drinking a bottle of red wine every single day in 2015, I would not have the great life I have today, and I am 100 percent confident my family would not be anywhere near the great shape they are in. People who quit drinking, even for a couple of weeks, rave about the better sleep and greater clarity they have after just a short time changing their habits. All I am saying is, I hope you will consider that there are big companies that do not have your best interests at heart that are benefiting from this campaign to celebrate drinking alcohol. And you don’t have to accept that. My life is proof of that. Today I have stronger friendships and a far greater day to day existence that a few years ago when I was “life of the party.”
No substance can substitute a real life, from the highs to the lows. And it may surprise you to know that, without alcohol doing a number on my blood sugar and energy levels everyday, I am able to think more clearly, stepping back before reacting to everything I experience, and I certainly bounce back from bad days much faster than I did in my drinking days. I’m not celebrating “National Drink Wine Day” because I have found a much better way to live without wine and I love my life now.
If you care to join me, I’ll be having a quiet cappuccino this afternoon in a warm and sunny spot to celebrate the Resistance to National Drink Wine Day. All the cool kids are sober.
I’ve written about the long period of time when my kids were young when a few businesses my husband was involved with simultaneously combusted – leaving our lives scattered in pieces to salvage the best we could. So I won’t bore you with the story again except to reference an odd phrase one of my husband’s employees repeatedly used in conversation with me to convey – I am not sure what – “We’re all playing in the same sandbox!” she would exclaim every time she saw me. Um….was it solidarity? Compassion? Manipulation? Honestly, it annoyed me because we were SO NOT in the same “sandbox,” figuratively or literally. There were disastrous and long-term financial and professional consequences from the partnerships and businesses that fell apart that affected many people – just not so much “Deb.” The memory of this strange interaction tumults my consciousness back to a feeling of deep isolation. And that’s when the addictive thinking began.
I mention this because I want to talk about trust and friendship and understanding. These are the best contexts for me to share with you that recently I chose to have a couple of glasses of wine. Relapse. That’s what my Therapist calls it. I think that is a brutal word, especially since some of the recovery literature and support groups make it sound so hauntingly awful – and shameful. I am not ashamed that I wanted 2 glasses of wine ….. twice lately …. and that I gave in to my desire. My Therapist wants to make sure I understand that the “relapse happens in the thinking a long time before the behavior” – and I do. I will be honest, both times I drank I felt utterly terrible physically for 2 days after. Nor did I get the “fun buzzed” feeling I recollected and longed for. Just swallowing a sugary drink in hopes of recapturing a feeling of escape. But the feeling never came and the after effects were awful. So I don’t think I will be doing it again. Yet my Therapist and I both want to know why I did it.
Isolation and not feeling connected are the roots of my addiction. When I look around at the true friendships, real connections, and budding feelings of purpose I have at this perfectly awkward midlife time of life, what I have is good. REALLY good. I just don’t seem to want to accept it, if that makes sense. My friend Shelley, a dear old friend with whom I have recently reconnected, helped me see something about myself glaringly obvious to her: my addiction must have somehow also been driven by the desire to escape from the natural physical changes women experience in midlife. Yes, Shelley, yes! You are right! Her compassion, insightfulness and kindness led to tears streaming down my face when she said: “You are probably just now, in your sobriety, learning to accept your body and wrinkles for what they are while other women your age have had more time to adapt.” Bingo. I’ve written about taking dexedrine (pure speed prescribed by a doctor) for (I can’t even remember the bs diagnosis – something like “unresponsive depression”). I was super skinny then. Now I am hungry all the time. But if you compare my overall health today to what it was during my skinny and addicted years – I am far healthier, though more plump, today. Shelley is helping me understand “you are not supposed to look like you did 25 years ago.” My body today is not a “mistake.”
I think comparison is the reason why I relapsed. “Everyone else” is having so much fun drinking and having fabulous bodies. I hope you are laughing because I am! Our addictions will tell us lies about ourselves and others all day long if we let them.
What will I do now? I will work harder to accept and love myself. I have learned so many things from this journey but it takes time and effort to put it all into daily practice. Drinking is and always will be a problem for me. When I drink, I am not my authentic self and it is difficult for me to get back to that. Some of today’s “spiritual junkies” tout that “Calm is my superpower.” And that sounds attractive. I want it. Like sobriety, I will do anything to get it and keep it. Now back to work.
Cheeky Street 