today is a weird day and there are a hundred reasons for it

5/10/23 6:55pm Weds. At home.

i've been in a funk. i recently purposely looked through old boxes and collected old notebooks. i knew they were around, i knew (hoped?) they were safe, and i knew they contained deep pain. i didn't want to read them.

but i've been in this garbage (not garbage actually, very helpful, but allow me the shit talking of therapy) of recovering memories from my past for about ...i could count. 8? 6? 3? months? 

decades. more than half my life.

i cracked open a gate. the monsters rub sleep from their eyes. i'm a princess at the edge a forest, meeting and fighting her own beasts. i carry a sword, my knight's heartstring, a journal and pen.

some monsters are more sleepy than others (snooze button for lyfe). others have been waiting for the tiniest crack in the wall to push their feet through.

what a fucking FEAT to stop running and stare down these beasts. i knew some would be running fast enough at me to overtake me when i stopped. i knew others would lag behind.

some monsters have been small and easily tamed. others i sense deep in the forest; their eyes glow at me. taunting. 

"tomorrow," i whisper to them, to me.

more monsters, still, lurk. no glowing eyes, no thundering footsteps. it's these monsters that i walk toward, expecting their fire. my faithful knight warms coffee for me, whispers strength into my bones. i leave camp early before the sun rises. we know these are my monsters to meet. the promise of my knight's arms and shoulders when i return sometimes (most times) the only thing that keeps me walking deeper and deeper into these woods.

i am safe. i am safe. i am safe. i whisper to myself as i explore notebooks and news articles. i whisper to myself as i sleep away from my knight.

my childhood home was sold recently. i have clicked through the hall and stood in the backyard of so many memories. i can still see the footprint of the literal stage that was built to hold the pulpit of a beast who would lurk and prey on our lives forever.

i uncovered notebooks from my junior year of high school. i've pinpointed timestamps in my life that put my memories into focus. 

some memories confuse me still.

i am safe. i am safe. i am safe.

721pm

better than that. this. him. her. it. you are better than and not in the sorry for way. better than the most you could ever dream of. better than the thing you most fear. better than that which you dread. as good as the greatest you could never imagine. you are as perfect as the dreams you will realize. as comforting as the fireside s'mores. as strong as i don't pity you. as strong as the foundation you built and stand on. you are the flesh that you think you're dying in. and the muscles, power, beauty, raw power the bones, the strength, the grit and love. you are.

phantom limb

i have all of these words and feelings about you, around you, toward you. without you.

you are torture. toxic. angry. bitter.

in pain.

i wouldn't say you were a limb cut off of me. it was more a slow wrenching of a limb. constantly painful. 

painful still.

you're out there. in the world. still full of anger and spreading your toxicity.

victim.

it hurts me. i think back to the times i miss you, and it is eons. lifetimes ago.  when i was small and we fell asleep holding hands. when we swam in your pool and had sleepovers at your house.

losing you is more than losing my sister, my oldest sister, my big sister. it is also losing the history you hold. 

oh, now i think of that small girl in her big sister's bed and my eyes sting with tears. my heart hurts. you were there. you knew.

it's not a losing of pain, cutting you out of my life, because i still feel it every day. it's a dark and thick pain; an undercurrent. while i might not think of you every day, i still feel the current connecting us.

which makes sense, because we are sisters.

does it ever go away?

i think sometimes it might, and that hurts even more. knowing you're out there, wondering just wondering always wondering.

i should have slapped you that day. that day in the sun next to your car, i should have slapped you. but at the last second i adjusted and shoved your shoulder instead.

"why don't you go cry over your dead dad's grave."

i should have slapped you.

our relationship (if you can call it that) should have ended years ago. it shouldn't have lasted as long as it did. but the boys. we kept you in our lives because of the boys. we wanted to be in their lives.

i still feel rage. and now immediate sadness. my eyes burn with unshed tears. they pool as i try to blink them away.

where did that big sister go? the one i held hands with as i fell asleep?

so much complicated grief. 

141

four months!  well. a little while ago was four months. i don't even check it every day. i was checking off the days today to see how many days it's been. and i got kind of meh about it.  what's the next big number?  180 i guess? six months? but there's also 150, which is a nice round number, five months.

i'm much more selective with who i hang out with. i'm afraid i'm isolating myself and losing friends. but that could just be me being dumb and not reaching out. i know they're there.

i don't like obnoxious people.  drinking used to make them "tolerable" or i didn't care as much when i was drinking.

i am currently grumpy pants.

117 days - super bowl

i didn't think it would be a big deal, but i'm glad i had options for the big game.  i could have stayed home, but i needed the fresh air and the company.

i'm not a fan of the super bowl.  i don't follow it at all, don't care who wins (but really, anyone but the pats). despite that, i had a few invitations to choose from, which really means a lot to me.  all of them knew i didn't drink, and they still invited me.

i was worried the invites would stop, or slow down because i made people uncomfortable by not drinking. i declined a lot of invites, and i still do.  depending on my day, stress level, mood, i might not want to put myself in those situations. not because i'll drink (but there's always that possibility), but because all i sometimes want to do in those situations is drink.  because everyone else is and what the hell i could probably just have one, right?

i told my sister i'd stop by her house and say hi to people, eat a bit, and head to a friend's house. my sister's house would be full of people and loud, my friend's house would be just us, quilting software, a puzzle, food, and conversation.  oh, and the game on in the background.

at my sister's house, she was drinking prosecco out of a wine glass, which looked exactly like chardonnay, which was (is?) my drink of choice.  someone else showed up with a nice bottle of red and her own bottle of vodka.  others brought beer and the whiskey was poured.

i felt dumb and lame with my sprite.  a wine glass was passed in front of me for someone else to taste.

"busy season" is coming up at work and i miss turning my brain off. i miss that feeling of floating, of not caring, that easy way of falling asleep.

but i know it's not real sleep.  it's not restful sleep. and i know the sugars in the booze will wreak havoc on my body, mind, mood the next day, and the cycle will continue. (maybe i need that on a bracelet - body, mind, mood.)

it was awkward when i left. i kind of just announced it. it didn't seem like a jovial light-hearted place to be and i can't put my finger on why.  was it me? were people more serious because i was there? did a couple have a fight before getting there? was it always this awkward and serious and i just didn't notice it?  were they awkward because they knew i wasn't drinking?

i went to my friend's house and it was just what we wanted. the tv was on, i read about the new software, we talked about quilting, about friends, events coming up. we snacked, worked on the puzzle a bit, watched commercials.  and a football game was on in the background.

oh, and we didn't drink. i didn't even think about drinking.

tea

i don't remember when i stopped making tea in the evenings.  i needed it in those "early" days. i put "early" in "" because i don't want to get cocky. it's currently 108 days and while it seems like a lot right now, i know it's a drop in a bucket.  in those early "holding on by my fingernails" days, 100 days seemed huge! like once i got there, i'd be okay.  i am okay, i am "better", whatever that means.

i stopped making tea. i used to make it every night...to convince myself that i was preparing for sleep, that i was winding down instead of a bottle of wine, it was a mug of tea.  oh, the tea.  so much tea!  a shelf full of teas.

sleepy time tea, night time tea, chamomile, vanilla, lavender.  instead of a mug of wine, it was a mug of tea.  i preferred a mug or tumbler of wine because it was more steady than a wine glass.  how many times did i spill wine on my couch?  when did i stop using a wine glass and switch to a mug?  it had been years.

where am i going with this?  oh. tea. winding down. i'm reaching for books and sashiko in the evenings while catching up on DVRd shows.

108 days.

90 and 98 days

people are cool about it. it's less of a big deal as it first was. i do miss drinking occasionally.  one friday was rough and i was seriously considering hitting the store for wine on the way home.  i acknowledged that i hadn't slept enough the night before and i was probably dehydrated.

but still.

so i called a friend.  well.  texted a friend. i messaged and texted other friends.  thought about going to my sister's house, usually a haven for me, but i knew booze was even more accessible there.

so i went home and met my friend and hung out. i felt silly asking, or, accepting help. it wasn't as big of a deal once he was there. but i don't know how it would have gone if he wasn't there.

i passed 90 days!  it was a sunday, i think. i meant to take a picture of my bracelet that has been there through all of this...but i haven't been wearing the bracelet. what was once a talisman, a reminder, a mantra "you do not need it", a thread i clung to...is something that i think is in my purse. or on my dresser.

today is 98 days.