bipolar

We Lost a Friend Today (Trigger Alert)

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This is an especially tough day. Let me paint you a clear picture. I wake up an hour after my morning call still with fever and congestion. The flu is literally kicking me in the ass. I got some disturbing news about someone I was once interested in. And I just continue to fight through. In Buddhism, we are grateful for obstacles, because the more challenges you have in your life – you are not stagnant. I have for sure not plateaued by any means in regards to today. That’s for damn sure.

When I walked into the break room at work this morning at 10:30 exactly someone came up to me and gave terrible, terrible news. Her relative committed suicide. Meanwhile, I didn’t exactly know this girl. I never met her. But I knew And you all knew her, too. She was one of us. One of our family. She suffered from bipolar (and psychosis).

Over the last few months my dear friend at work had invested time and trust into our talks about her relative. She is someone who isn’t like us and just needed to vent for the most part. I was there for her and gave her my advice as someone who has been through and is currently going through the troublesome times. A few months ago she told me that Natalie was doing well. When she described her current situation I instantly felt in my gut that Natalie was far from doing well. She was manic. And what happens after mania? A downfall. I predicted it and knew in my heart that she wasn’t okay, but never do I imagine that someone will fall down so hard. I know it happens and I’ve seen it happen. But I always want to have the benefit of the doubt that the disease is not as controlling as it is. But it fucking is! It pains me to say that. At least it is when you’re not receiving the proper care and you don’t WANT TO receive it either.

Last Friday she was going through a time that I grew familiar to years ago—before the awareness, before the therapy, before all of the hard work put into my life, before the sobriety, before the correct support—she was depressed. The depression that can only be described to the sane as a deep, dark hole full of solid nothingness. Where no light shines, because it’s too far into the earth and where our own light can’t even shine because it’s too hidden buried under any sort of stableness we never knew. The darkness that keeps us awake at night and wakes us up in the morning. Mornings where life is the most scary monster we could ever imagine and a smile is only a mask we were so that the sane can stop asking us questions.

I knew her feelings all too well that when I heard the news today I cried not because I felt for her family or the fact that it is a true tragedy. I cried because I know what went through her mind when she jumped in front of the train. It brought up the feelings that I had almost nine years ago. The night when I swallowed 60 xanax and somehow was jolted to a reality of pain. When my boyfriend at the time called me a selfish bitch and hung up on me and never spoke to me again. The Christmas I ended up in the hospital eating coal (what an ironic twist in fate) singing Amy Winehouse’s Rehab to cheer myself up in front of the nurses because if not I was going to really go mental. It was the day when my sister saved me because she happened to answer the phone.

But she didn’t have that. Natalie was so dark into the hole and somehow the universe was able to swallow her whole. The pain I have when I think of how much we all could have been there to save her, posing as her safety net with open arms because we understood her sadness.

It’s a sad day in my world today because her light is brighter than ever in this world since she has passed.

Here comes the sun…

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I can feel it. My concentration is back. I’m focusing more than ever on work. Work is going fantastic. Not worried about my love life anymore. My son is happy. And I am musically driven. Why? Vitamin D. That’s all it is.

It was a beautiful weekend and I went for a long hike in a beautiful state park, went sledding a few times, and got so many things done around the house. I’m almost finished quite a few projects and I couldn’t feel more content. It’s no coincidence that because the sun is out, I’m feeling great.

However, an underlying fear is that I will feel too great in only a few short weeks. I’m nervous about traveling for work in a less than two weeks because well, that irritates my mania, and because I will be extremely relaxed and hyper. There’s no other explanation for it. Meds haven’t changed, and I’m doing the same exact things.

These are reasons why being in a relationship for me right now is just not right. I can predict my moods when I feel the subtle changes, but I will never be able to entirely control them. The sun is a love-hate relationship for me. I am accepting when he is there, but I’m pissed when he makes me ecstatic.

This is when I become annoyed with the fact that I have this disease and I can’t do much about getting rid of it. The shit ain’t going anywhere!

I have to remember that I’ve come a long way and to just enjoy the moments I have that are truly wonderful.

Chaos is simple.

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Constantly I hear the words ‘unconventional’ and ‘crazy’ fly out people’s mouths and being used in the same sentence with my name or some pronoun to replace it. But for me, chaos is simple. Difficult is easy. Complex makes sense. It’s structure, stability, and sanity that are a struggle. Why? Is it because I’m a lefty? And I think with my right side of the brain. Or maybe it’s because I’m allergic to chocolate and strawberries. Oh no, maybe it’s because I’m a hybrid. Nope, I’m pretty sure I know why.

I mean, let’s face it – bipolar people strive on drama and chaos. Not that I’m into drama per se, but I need some sort of drama in my life. And if that means waiting until the due date to pay a bill or scheduling three events in one night – that’s my fix. That’s what I need. It makes sense to me to feel overwhelmed than to actually live life like a normal human being.

My sister asked me today why I always wait until I have 3-4 loads of laundry to do instead of just doing it once a week. I told her because that’s what makes sense to me. Of course, it’s not logical to most people – but it makes fucking sense to my brain. I didn’t need to defend myself, but she always feels the need to make me feel incompetent even though she isn’t trying to.. She’s telling me what she believes is best. And maybe that’s why I become uber sensitive to others’ words. Because what they feel and think is best isn’t what I think. My perspective is skewed. Better yet, my perspective works for me. Someone like me.

Think about it, if my normal is a rollercoaster for most, then wouldn’t their normal be my rollercoaster? If we could just reverse things and look at everyone’s views in a more empathetic fashion, we would judge less and accept more. Living in a world where my norm is the irregular, I have always thought that my brilliance was something amazing. But really, it’s just our normal. I can’t explain why I feel the way I do, so I shouldn’t need to feel as though what I do feel is eccentric. It’s just different.

I wouldn’t go too far in saying that my brilliance is sheer genius, because it’s far from it. But for me, walking into a room and creating a catchy song on the spot out of a few ideas someone throws at me is simple. For others, they would need years. Looking at a piece of wood I can create a beautiful artistic piece in my mind and go about it and possibly finish it within a few hours. For others, they would need weeks. What I get done in a week, most would accomplish in months. So for me, chaos is simple. I always see a way, a solution, an intricate, yet doable path. For a straight line with structure, I see boring. Slit my wrist now.

Life is an empty canvas I want to fill with color. I don’t wish to take a beautiful painting and cover it with white paint.

Pretty on the outside, Damaged on the inside.

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My mother told me tonight that she doesn’t think I have bipolar.

Three words.

What.

The.

Fuck?!

Just because you can’t physically see that someone is hurting doesn’t mean that they’re not. This saying could go true for just about anyone and I am so hurt. My oldest sister had a freak accident (I have yet to really talk about this and probably will hold off for as long as I possibly can) on my 30th birthday last year and everyone is coming to terms that her life is forever changed. It’s apparent (because it’s physical) that she is handicapped. For someone like me, with a mental illness, if you haven’t suffered in a similar way, everyone expects for you to heal because they can’t see it. So if I am smiling or have a good day, a good month, or a good year, I am fine. But that’s not true. Very far from it, in fact.

Denial.

To know that the person who loves me most in my life honestly believes that I am completely fine and don’t suffer pains me. How can my mother believe this to be true? She has known about most of my psych ward visits and all of the depression I have suffered, because I tell her. But because she can’t feel it or see it, it doesn’t exist. Not to her. She honestly thinks that because I live a somewhat normal life (granted, she lives over 200 miles away from me), I must be fine.

If someone like my mother believes I am okay, I wonder what most people think who know that I suffer. Probably most. They probably just feel as though I am emotionally high maintenance or that I am a complainer. I’m pretty exhausted at the moment and slightly on a high because for having a day where almost everything went wrong, something went very right towards the end…

I’ll continue this again at some point. There’s much more to be told. For now, I will accept the fact that my mother will never fully understand me. Three more words.

Fuck.

My.

Life.

Crossroads & Crying.

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Something has been bothering me lately and I am not quite sure what it is. There has been a lot of trauma in the last six months to my life. Turning 30. Sister’s tragic accident. Grandmother (only grandparent I’ve ever been close to) dying. Finding new family. Dealing with the norms without having my sister to cope. Med changes. New job position. I mean, it’s a lot of changes and I have been “acting” really cool about it.

Today I was watching this movie of what I thought was going to be a romantic comedy and boom, she dies. A romantic comedy turned drama in an instant. Something triggered emotions inside of me and I lost it. I was hysterically crying. And I just let it go. I needed it. Like what the fucking fuck!? Who loses it while watching an Anne Hathway flick? Answer: me.

I imagine I have been holding a lot inside of me, and it’s natural to just have it all surface at once. My own emotions ambushed me and it wasn’t pretty. My eyes were bloodshot and swollen and usually I feel better after a good cry. But I didn’t. It was one of those I wouldn’t be able to talk kind of cries that occurred. I think I have been letting a lot of feelings build up inside of me.

One thing that has happened is my love life. It’s non-existent; I’ve been so focused on my music.

Today is one of those snow days where you get stuck inside, a surprise blizzard per se, and for me… it gives me time to think. The worst place for me is an idle mind.. its’ the devil’s playground, and it’s not pretty. No matter how much I tell myself how much I don’t need a relationship (because I’m not good at them) or how much I don’t want to be in love, I suck at it. I want so much to be in love. I have fucked up so many of my romantic relationships, whether they ended because I did it or because they did it – I am terrible at it. I’ve only been truly in love once and now in hindsight, i realize it was mostly my fault.

As someone who has bipolar disorder, you are emotionally high maintenance. It’s up to the other person in the relationship on whether or not they are tolerant enough to handle your craziness. I was needy when I was depressed, I was bossy when I was manic, I was all over the place when I was in a mixed episode, and when I was having a panic attack – the last resort was to commit suicide. I mean, who in their right mind can be with someone like that?

I realized that I was crying because I feel unworthy to be loved. Is it true? Who knows, it’s probably the depression talking. Apparently there’s someone for everyone – but I need someone who is going to be able to handle my lows. My highs and my middle-ground is great, my lows aren’t that often. But when they’re there, they must be scary for the other person.

So many crossroads in my life at the moment and I’m unsure of how to handle them all. The old Trinity would just go head first and not look. But now, I have a lot at stake. I treasure my relationships with others, and that means I need to think of what’s best not only for myself, but for everyone else as well, in the long run.

I am frightened. I wish I could force myself to cry. I wish that after I cried I would feel better. But I don’t. My fears and emotions are buried underneath a huge ass pile of shit. It wasn’t the best snow day. If I could, I would just cry myself to sleep.

Stability = No drama = Boring = Missing Something

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Once you are diagnosed with a mental illness, you constantly find yourself trying to heal yourself or rid yourself of something. Picture yourself sick with the flu and vomiting out the bad and the next day just feeling much, much better.

vomit

Well, it doesn’t work like that.

Especially when something’s fucked up in your head. In my case, most of the real hardcore changes came during sobriety.

My first sponsor told me, “The drama will cease at some point and you’re going to miss it.” Smart woman because 1) I didn’t think I had drama! (little did I realize, or does anyone realize when they live a drama-filled life?) 2) she was totally right, I do miss it. As strange as it might sound, sometimes I try to find a reason to cry. I don’t know if that’s a crazy-person thing or just a person-crazy thing. Tonight as I lay in bed and my head is spinning around a million and one ideas (racing thoughts), I think to myself, maybe I’m sad. And I tried to find some tears, and instead all there was was empty.

insomnia

Am I depressed I thought? No, I had a pretty great day. Maybe I’m manic, that’s why I can’t sleep. I mean, maybe those are possibilities, but I began to dig deeper and what I realized was that I don’t have any drama. I haven’t had true drama in a very long time. Granted, there are things that happen in my band from time to time and at work someone may piss me off, sometimes I get a call from a 1-866 number about a debt I didn’t pay off years ago that is now haunting, but when push comes to shove, my life is a million times better than it ever was years ago.

That can definitely say one thing about me – my life was one fucked up mess if what it is now is heaven compared to let’s say 2007?

However, it does tell me that I am maturing somewhat. As I sit here typing away furiously, my son is passed out snoring next to me, and my stomach hurts because all I put in my stomach was a slice of pepperoni pizza (too lazy to cook tonight), I realize that I am doing something healthy. I am feeling like a complete and total shit, regardless of how things really, truly are (aka fantastic) and I am writing about it. Blogging is nothing but cathartic… for me. In the past, a moment like this probably would have never presented itself because my life was a constant ball of drama, but if I did feel an unknown emotion and didn’t quite know how to handle it – I would cut. I would slice. I would punch my hand into a wall. I would scream. I would yell. I would cry. I would drink. I would smoke. I would take a bunch of pills. But I don’t do it anymore. I write.

Why is it that with the absence of drama, I am going stir crazy? It’s the same type of feeling when you’ve been locked in your house because you haven’t escaped because you’re either broke or snowed in or sick. It’s like my body craves it. My mind is addicted to it. I find myself almost shoplifting from time to time little things from the store so I can get some sort of a high. The void of drama is hurting a piece of me. The insanity part of my being needs to be fed and I am not quite sure how to rid of this feeling. Yes, writing will only hold me over for a few hours until I doze off and wake up tomorrow to the hullabaloo I have created in my life of work and music. More importantly, how do I handle these emotions when I am older and not full of energy? What do I do then?

How do I channel my nostalgia for drama into a healthy appetite for sanity?

Parenting: Breaking the Cycle on Religion.

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As humans we tend to think that how we parent our children is the best and most correct way. True and untrue when you really put it into perspective. We know our children best, who could raise them better? But the reasoning on why we think we are truly doing it better than our parents is plain bullshit.

There are cycles we should definitely break as the generations continue and change (not necessarily improve always). Slapping and choosing your switch isn’t done anymore as that is known as child abuse. But our grandparents would swear by it. Other parents knock using the time out system, but in some cases with my parenting–it works.

I had a run in with my mother the other day about religion and it really got to me that she just could not see my point. Then I had a very pensive attitude about the entire conversation on repeat in my head on the way to New York a few days ago and came to one of those “ah-ha” moments.

Let me step back into the story a bit and go over this with you, so you can gain a clearer picture of the events that occurred just last weekend.

Mom: I think you’re straying away from Christianity. (meanwhile she has no idea I am a practicing Buddhist–I’ve tried to steer clear from this conversation because I am attempting to create more healthy boundaries with my mother)

Me: No, I found myself.

Mom: I don’t understand what I did wrong. You don’t love God anymore.

Me: I don’t understand what that means. How so?

Mom: You don’t attend church. It’s so important for you to raise your son with God. I was a teacher for 38 years. Children who were religious were such good students. Children who had no religion had no conscience and were terrible.

Me: Don’t you think that has everything to do with bad parenting, not with the fact of whether or not they were raised in church?

Mom: (silent)

Me: Just because I don’t attend church every Sunday doesn’t make me less of a good person. Take this for example, many Christians I know attend church every Sunday and have miserable lives where all they do is judge everyone who doesn’t share their same ideas. To me, that’s not “Christ-like” whatsoever. It’s small-mindedness. I don’t need to prove my love for God by stepping into a sanctuary and paying tithes every month. I’m quite content knowing that what I am doing in my heart and loving the way I should love makes me a good person.

Dad: So let me ask you this.. If your son died, where would you want him to go? Can you answer that? (becoming more defensive)

Me: Are you saying that I should say Heaven?

Dad: It’s just a question. If you don’t believe in our religion anymore, where is your son going to go if he dies?

Me: So basically what you’re saying is that you want me to raise my son in your religion so that YOU can feel better about yourself in the long run? So that believing that there is a heaven we all go to after we die will make you sleep better at night? Are you trying to manipulate me?

Mom: Raising your son in church is the best thing you can do. I don’t know where I went wrong. You used to preach when you were a little girl. You loved God.

Me: And I still do. But God is different to me. He is not some man in the sky anymore who I will fear. He doesn’t judge me. To me, my Higher Power is the universe. Everyone has God inside of them. God is in all of the energy we have. It’s humility. I know I’m not the biggest thing out there. But I also need logic. A man in the sky who waves a wand around and created everything is not faith. That’s just a replacement for our human answers unable to give us a solution. So in turn we rely on faith-based organized religion. And in the long run, it destroys our society in so many ways. It also creates biases. It creates judgements. It creates wars. It creates hate. It creates hypocrisy. It creates ignorance. We are using religion as a means to allow us to live blindly without investigation. That’s not what I want to do with my time. I hated walking into a church every Sunday being forced to listen to some man who was just as fallible as me telling me how to live my life according to a book created by people who wanted to use church to control society at that time.

Mom: Every verse in the Bible means something. It’s there for a reason. God wrote it.

Me: Men wrote it. Men just as imperfect as us.

Mom: God wrote it. How can you say that?

Me: Because it’s the truth. You can’t even argue with that. Yes, it was inspired by God. Jesus wasn’t Christian. Buddha wasn’t Buddhist. Religion is created by followers, not leaders, who need something to rely on. Instead of being religious, Mom. I’m spiritual. I go by my own journey, not the stories of others. Theirs are inspiring, but not mine.

Mom: So you think all of the stories are false?

Me: I think the meanings behind the stories are what makes the Bible good and those meanings get lost because people are so wrapped up in over-analyzing it. Take the story of Adam and Eve for example. There most likely wasn’t a piece of fruit, it was probably greed or sex.. it was symbolic. Evolution created men over time, not seven exact days.

Dad: What do you think the Bible is then?

Me: The message of Jesus was love. Love yourself. Love your neighbor. You will suffer. When Jesus was on earth the Pharisees condemned him, people disliked him, he was crucified. That is a sign of what humans constantly do. They praise, they destroy, they forget, and continue the cycle. I can’t do that. Jesus’ life is very important to me. Do I think he was the son of God? In a way, we all are. But he taught so much to us. He maintained relationships with people who were outcasts and asked many questions. He was inquisitive. He spoke his mind. His actions were his message. Everything he did was also culturally relevant to his time period. I will not follow his actions and words verbatim, but I understand the message he was trying to send. Similar to Buddha’s message. And I seek enlightenment. I seek a shift in my inner soul and inner being. I’m not worried about what everyone else is doing. For you, it works to attend church every Sunday. But for me, most of those people think that my sister/your daughter’s being homosexual will condemn her to eternal damnation. That’s ignorance! I refuse to associate myself with that sort of thinking. I wasn’t put on earth to judge. I’m just living my life. As freely as possible. I pray all of the time. I absolutely love my life so much more now with a clearer mind. I know I’m not alone. I will not raise my son in that environment, one on the surface that seems peaceful and loving but really is full of judgment and cruelty. I will break that cycle and I hope you can respect that.

Was I wrong? Most likely, the fact that I am open about my forward-thinking probably crushes my mother. And I understand that. But I have suffered enough in my life to belong to something where I don’t have to. I am old enough to choose which beliefs I would like to continue to have. I will not allow a religion to control who I am. It was freeing to say those things because once I said it, I knew I had forever made up my mind. And damn, it felt good.

Bipolar Relationships: Joint Custody

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Joint Custody is a court order whereby custody of a child is awarded to both parties. In joint custody both parents are custodial parents and neither parent is a non-custodial parent, or, in other words, the child has two custodial parents.

That’s a nice way of putting it. Here is the real definition:

Joint Custody is a way for two parents to argue constantly over who is doing more and who the other believes is more happy. The pinnacle of these fights usually begin around tax season time when one parent believes they did more for the other. The time when these fights seem to dissolve is around the child’s birthday when the two must unite in some way to have their child at their happiest moments. Both parents whole-heartedly believe that what they are doing individually is best for the child. Both parents answer to single parent issues and know that even though their child may suffer from time to time, everyone is happiest apart.

For the past two and a half years I have been a single mother not only on paper, but also in real life. In some fantasy world my baby daddy believes this means parenthood is a constant competition. fatherTonight I put a stop (at least for some time) to this ridiculousness. Basically, he was complaining because our son had the same sweatshirt on two school days in a row. OK. I can see that if you lived in a white picket fence world this is fine. However, I don’t. We don’t. I live in the city with sky-rocket high rent, bills galore, and in some months paycheck to paycheck lifestyle. Other months, it’s wonderful. It just all depends on what consequence my new self must serve because of the madness I lived for over a decade. AKA bills I forgot about six years ago and now they found me. Yup. Happens all the time.

I had to take a deep breath, because Mercury Retrograde has really gotten to me today and I responded with, “Some days I can’t wake up. It literally takes every single part of me to move out of my bed, dress Kai for school, pack him lunch, dress myself, and drive him to school on time.” I think back to a few years ago where my structure was completely out of whack and I couldn’t even do that. Baby Daddy hasn’t resided with me in so long I guess he had forgotten. I needed to remind him. Now in a “normal” relationship’s custody battles and conversations, this would be possibly insane to hear. But for me, I have come a long way.

Only a few years back I didn’t do my laundry. Still I struggle with that. Easy = struggle. Difficult = all too familiar pain I can deal with. I’m unsure of why that is exactly with me. Instead of being hard on myself and constantly thinking I’m a fuck-up and a loser, I need to pat myself on the back and reward myself for the smaller things in life. Because all of these small responsibilities add up to a big deal.

pat myself

Setting healthy boundaries with those around me, people I love and people I don’t, is so important with my mental illness. With an illness like bipolar where you just shoot up and down like a jumping bean, I need to structure my life in schedule and in relationships.

When he responded back to me he was quite calm and said that he did forget and he doesn’t understand. He only understands reality. That pained me to hear because even after all of these years he still doesn’t get it. I don’t know why I honestly believe that people without the illness will ever fucking get it. Because they will never. Until you go through darkness and euphoria, you will never truly know what it feels like to have this curse blessing disease. He did promise, however, to be more understanding and more supportive of me emotionally. He said he will always be there for me. That made me tear up a little bit and almost miss him. Nope. Can’t go down that path again. I said, “Thank you,” and hung up the phone.

I will continue to try my hardest as a single, bipolar mother, but it’s never going to be easy. Ever. I’ve accepted that. I wish there was a manual of some sort.

manual*Sigh* Good night, guys. It’s been a tough week. I’m glad it’s almost over.

Tinder: Always a Twist

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For many single adults out there today, there’s an app called Tinder. The “straight” version of Grinder, Tinder is an application where you simply swipe left or right on someone’s photo. It’s a simple little game you might say and it’s highly addictive. Only a few weeks ago did I write about throwing in the towel on dating. I guess that’s the beauty of bipolar. Your emotions escalate and drop and you make decisions based on your moods. And when your moods go up again, well they may, in fact, change.

Tinder dating app photo

I have met some great people through this app in the last year and a half of being single. The sweatshirt I am wearing at this moment actually was created by a buddy of mine who I met on a date over a year ago. The date went nowhere and we went on another date maybe six months later, but we have remained business colleagues and friends. His business makes money off of me now.

My first Tinder experience was interesting. We met, had great chemistry, a few dates later had sex, and I began to take an interest in him. Until I found out that a girlfriend I knew for a very long time had a date planned with him. He told me I was being childish and unflattering when I told him my thoughts. She still went on the date and slept with him. He left her like trash. Girls suck. Guys are dogs. I learned that quickly.

girls suck

Then there has only been one real dating experience through Tinder I should say that lasted for a few weeks and that was about one year ago. Let’s name him Bob. I swiped right on Bob and we matched. There was instant chemistry over the phone calls we had and he was from my area (Philadelphia/South Jersey). We had a mutual friend and she even vouched for him. Bob came to meet me after one of my shows and instantly grew a crush on me, or so he says. The first night we hung out, we slept together. Definitely not a good thing on either of our parts, but we are both adults. The casual dating began to turn into something more. It had only been about six months or so since I split with my ex-boyfriend Steve. My heart wasn’t quite ready, but my vagina definitely was. We met each others’ best friends, I hung with him on his birthday, and he even spent the night at my house (which usually doesn’t happen with guys I am not interested in). Things were going great until I made a dinner reservation for him at a restaurant he has always wanted to go to but had never been. He told me I was too nice and he wasn’t ready for a relationship. He became cold towards me. To this day, I’m pretty sure he met another girl on Tinder and was more into her, but that I will never know. Months go by and he dials me up about a month or so ago. I go to his place, we hook up, and something didn’t feel right. The next day I go onto his Instagram page and he has a serious girlfriend. And it looks as though they met right around the time I originally met him. Wow, my instincts were right. Thank you universe for protecting me. He would have been cheating on me if I was his girlfriend now. I’ll be happy if I never speak to Bob or see him ever again.

bad date

Two weeks ago I decided to dust off my Tinder app and do some swipes. I have been on dates here and there, but nothing that has truly sparked my interest. I have met a really great guy, but the monologuing type. I am not quite sure if he is into me or if he is into himself more. Another guy I refuse to meet up with because well, the first few messages we had between each other he sent me almost a full body nude. The third guy, well it has been just fantastic. But I refuse to count my chickens before they hatch. So I won’t say much about him. However, I will say a little about the evening I met him.

I’m working, having a busy day as usual and I meet up with an old friend. When I say old friend, he’s someone who knows my SHIT. We spent some time in the loony bin together back in late 2012 and I can appreciate his craziness. There are two people I have kept in contact with from mental institutions (and I’ve been in quite a few over the years). And he is one of them. We caught up since we hadn’t seen each other in a while. He said he lost my pilates mat somehow between his move and owed me some drinks. I ate a few appetizers since it’s Sober February. I felt bad leaving him to go on a date with someone he actually knew (the third Tinder date is a buddy of his), but it felt so good to be myself with someone. For a couple of hours we talked, laughed, and busted each others’ balls with sarcasm. He encouraged me to go on my dreaded date since he knew the guy was good peoples. So I did.

I get into my car, drive to my neighborhood and walk into my date. Right away, I think of what my friend just told me (he couldn’t see us together) and he was right. But I’m not trying to judge a book by its cover so I continue to walk over to the man smiling at me with a ridiculously hipster-looking mustache. Two hours into the conversation and neither of us have barely touched our drinks, I am smitten. This was the best conversation I have had with someone in years. He gets me. The fact that he did Peace Corps (I work for an adult education nonprofit catering to low-income immigrants), loves music and is knowledgeable about it (I’m a musician), hippie (i’m a fire spinner, nuff said), has been through some shit (no comment necessary), the list goes on and on.. We were so open and honest with each other, I even admitted my favorite movie to him–Howard the Duck. Oddly enough, he knew it and loved it the same. Our date was longer than six hours and ended with a wonderful kiss (even though I had no idea of what to do about his mustache) and some amazing hugs.

I’ll keep you up-to-date with how it all turns out. But to be honest, I’m not expecting anything from it. What I do know, is he is one of those people that if I do mention my disease to, wouldn’t be too bothered by it. And that feels nice.

#SoberFebruary

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The worst best night of my life was on December 26, 2012. I was without Kai for Christmas the first year ever and drank myself to almost death. So much so that I realized I had a drinking problem and that next fateful morning I walked into was the infamous “rooms” in every city in America. Those in the program will know what I’m referring to because that is what we named it and called our second home. Those outside of the program have a stigma against Alcoholics Anonymous and just think it’s a place where people who aren’t thriving go to get away from drinking (at least that’s what I thought it was). I had no idea what was in store for me when I walked in still drunk, a dirty white sweatshirt, hair a matted mess… I received a chip for 24 hours (they give you one if you even have part of one day since it’s mainly about you attitude towards a better life).

To this day I’m not quite sure if I was ever an alcoholic, or if I was actually just so buried in my bipolar emotions and addictive personality. What I do know is that I never had a better family that taught me more about who I truly am and the tools that I needed all along to prepare me for everything life has to offer me at this point. These are some of the tools I gained during my 21 months of sobriety:

1. Having a positive attitude. This seems like an easy thing to do, but it’s not. Especially when you throw a mental illness and motherhood into the mix. At times it can seem as though everything is going wrong, but you can’t put a limit on your strength. Once you do, you almost definitely will fall apart. Cognitive behavioral therapy has truly helped me with this over the past 7 years. Changing small things such as “I am ugly.” TO “I am NOT ugly.” OR “I am beautiful.” Thoughts turn into actions. Actions turn into beliefs. Things as easy as waking up on a dreary, rainy day.. And knowing that the rain is there because the crops won’t grow. This helps overcome any addiction.

2. Honesty. Wow, this is just such a difference in my life. From excuses to white lies to hidden agendas – it’s all about honesty. Living in a city like Washington, D.C., where the majority of the people here are all about gaining power, you start to realize that you must be honest with yourself and everyone else. Being perfect with your word is a must. If you are not, then everything else you do is just going to go down the tubes. I could rant endlessly about this bullet point, but I think you get the gist of it.

3. Moderation. When I took up tai chi over a year ago, I learned how to even live moderation through smoking a cigarette. Everything, whether good or bad, should be done in moderation. There are no blacks and whites in life. Doing something too fast or at a snail’s pace, not good. Nothing is ultimately wrong or right. Everything is in degrees of. Once I started living that in everyday life and every day actions, my mind began to process differently.

4. Counting Days. At first this may seem tedious, but it shows you your accomplishments. The phrase “One day at a time” is very true. After counting 21 months of sobriety, I really started to see how far I had come. How far I could go in my life. And visually knowing that all good or bad moments shall pass.

5. Be gentle/Forgiveness/Compassion. In so many aspects this is crucial. When you make a mistake, you can’t be hard on yourself. When letting go of a bad relationship, you can’t think of all of the good times in the past. You must be gentle to yourself. You must let go gently. It’s a very Buddhist type of mantra, but it can make or break you. Holding onto things that are out of your control can really take a toll on your deepest emotions. Holding onto hatred or terrible feelings dissolves something inside. It takes more effort to hate than it does to forgive. You allow the hatred to escape your heart and peace enters in return.

6. Sharing my feelings. Going to the rooms and sharing was something every sponsor I had told me was something I had to do, especially when I was feeling the most down. “Checking in” was a common phrase I heard, and even though the person may not have felt that it was important to share – it was always helping at least one other person in the room. In addition, you needed to share with other sober people, mostly your sponsor. You were held accountable for your actions. Even though I am no longer a part of the program, I still follow this rule constantly knowing that when I am faced with depression or mania, I check in with anyone in my support system. This could be my therapist, a family member, and now, you–this blog.

7. Being of service. This was so good for me because I try to do this everyday. Doing something for another person, even if it is listening to their problems is a great escape to getting out of your own head. In doing so, I don’t allow the committee upstairs to overtake my thoughts and put me down a dark hole. And when I do something good for another, I in turn feel better about myself. It gives me energy.

8. Structure. From small to big things, having a routine and a schedule for everyone is key. Maintaining a schedule has allowed me to focus on my priorities. It has also allowed me not to forget everyday things and important dates. From brushing my teeth twice daily to picking up my son from school and cooking a meal everyday, to doing laundry each week (or every other), to band practice every Tuesday, to limiting my shows to only 1 per week. This has allowed me to do more and even schedule in rest and relaxation.

9. Getting my alcoholism under control. Once you get your alcoholic head into place, everything else falls into place. You have to make it your number priority, over your children, over your family, over yourself. Putting your health as number one allows you to enjoy and care for everything else important to you. I struggled with this at first, but now I completely understand and stand by it.

10. Prayer. When my alcoholism was out of control, when my emotions were running wild, I only prayed when something terrible was happening. In the program and through sobriety, I really learned how to be grateful. This is such a powerful tool. Even when the bad shit was going down, I learned to be thankful for it. To know that this too shall pass. That this was happening for a reason to add to my strength. This was something I was supposed to be living through and feeling. As a practicing buddhist, I am quite amazed with how chanting has also really inspired me. The combination of tai chi, chanting, and prayer to my Higher Power, has really shifted something deeper inside of me. It’s totally inexplicable, but it’s the most amazing feeling I have ever had. Now when the depression creeps in, I know that it is just my disease. It’s not me.

Now, in celebration of that enlightenment period in my life, I have committed to a sober February each February every year for as long as I can withstand. Even just last night, when I usually drink with my band during rehearsal, I usually wake up feeling a little more under the weather each Wednesday. This morning, the sun beamed in through my blinds and I woke up full of energy and happiness. To be sober again for four days has felt like such the improvement in my life! I can’t wait to see how I feel after 28.

If you would like to join me, it’s not too late. Feel free and post about it. I have four others doing it with me. Have any of you ever tried sobriety?

Cheers Xx, Trin