tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15192822383515308732024-03-20T08:11:00.564-07:00write on, yoYohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-81764726593731336912024-02-07T07:39:00.000-08:002024-02-07T10:48:11.404-08:00phone tree day<p> Yesterday was phone tree day. </p><p>Tomorrow is another phone tree day. I can’t text you and tell you. I can’t just text someone and say phone tree day. </p><p>Big event days. First day of nephews school. Skydiving day. Big party days. Sleepy eyes locking over mugs…phone tree day. </p><p>We said it in a mellow, low tone which marked the calm before the storm. Almost a whisper. </p><p>Phone tree day. </p><p>Accepted offer. Inspection. So many phone tree days to come. </p><p>If there’s no one to say phone tree day….</p>Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-45932450456535134812023-11-30T00:10:00.000-08:002023-11-30T00:10:12.891-08:00I really missed you today<p> I miss you all the time. But it’s become like a dull ache you get used to. Today was like snaggin a healing hangnail on a sweater. </p><p>No. It was more than that. It just hurt okay? I had a dream about you last night. You were pregnant. I saw you in a parking lot talking to a coworker. You rubbed your belly. You might have been about 6 months along. </p><p>I miss you so much. You’re right there. Half a mile away from me most days. </p><p>Right there. And a million miles away. </p><p>I love you. </p>Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-30031484374182940032023-08-27T15:49:00.006-07:002023-08-28T12:44:41.347-07:00my body keeps the score and holds the grudge<p>when your normal headache isn’t normal but it’s also very normal when things aren’t normal. and also isn’t a tumor. (ps, this is not about my boyfriend)</p><p>You’ll tell yourself you’re fine with it. That the drama has settled and everything is fine. But your body knows you better than you. It’ll throw headaches at you. And then more and more until you’ve had a headache for five days and know for sure it’s a tumor (spoiler: it’s not) and go to urgent care. </p><p>This is different than a migraine. It’s in a different place, it feels different, and isn’t accompanied by the same aura or light sensitivity (though you’re still sensitive to light). It doesn’t react the same to the usual cold packs and pills. </p><p>Once a week for over a month you’ll call out sick. No, it’s not work related. </p><p>You’ll get your eyes examined in the fifth week of headaches. Yes, your eyes have changed. </p><p>On the fifth consecutive day of this headache, you’ll go to urgent care. </p><p>You’ll wait for the doc in a room on a hospital bed while contorted in a position that alleviates your headache, if only a little. Your lower half lays on its side, knees bent. Your top half is twisted further so your arms can cross under you; held between your body and the bed.</p><p>You’ll discuss your headache with the (very hot) doc. He’ll ask about any new stressors since these headaches started over the last couple of months. </p><p>Then. It’ll click. </p><p>No. You are not fine. Apparently. The boundary you finally set over a year and a half ago and the resulting recent tantrums have, in fact, affected you and affect you still. You were blamed for the situation you didn’t create. “But I’m fine,” you tell yourself and your loved ones. You reach out to your therapist. “You are having a very normal response to an abnormal event,” she’ll reply.</p><p>The doc asks if you’re able to sleep. “Yes!” you’ll respond with no hesitation. </p><p>He tells you to remove the stressors. But how can you remove them from your mind? Your inner thoughts? Meditation, he suggests. </p><p>You’ll find out how hard it is to actively relax your shoulders, your neck, your jaw. It is truly constant. While actively thinking about relaxing your body, you have to remember to relax your body. When you wake in the night, your shoulders are clenched, raised to your ears like hackles. Your hands turn to fists in your sleep. </p><p>You’ll realize that while you HAVE been sleeping, you have not been getting good sleep.</p><p>The doc recommends heat on the back of your head, your “suboccipital muscles.” And tennis balls to use as pressure on the back of your neck. </p><p>You look up “homemade hot/cold packs” and find items on Etsy you can make. Just after this headache goes away. It was gone for a couple of days, but it’s back to remind you. </p><p>You try to relax, even while writing this post, unable to take a nap. </p><p>“But I’m fine.”</p><p>No. But I’m getting there.</p>Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-59890316249767798292023-08-26T12:46:00.002-07:002023-08-26T22:34:40.922-07:00pancakes<p>i didn't realize this until today. i mean. maybe i did realize this before. i probably did. i've been making pancakes for years. decades even. an eternityyyy.</p><p>pancakes.</p><p>greg taught me how to make pancakes. i was a teenager. he didn't wake me up and like, oooo...yolanda today we're going to learn how to make pancakes! it also wasn't the first time i made pancakes. i used to use a lot of butter in the pan. maybe that's how my mom made them? i just knew butter was good. not that i liked it on my pancakes.</p><p>why are we talking about pancakes?</p><p>i made pancakes this afternoon for my knight and me. i couldn't sleep last night. i was awake until 4. i even got up and made hot chocolate. the sugar probably didn't help, but i wanted what i wanted.</p><p>we were in the apartment in coronado. the ones the cult leader ...holy shit. nine of us. two sets of parents with two kids each. and a random member. nine of us in a two bedroom two and a half bath condo. apartment? what's the difference? don't tell me, i won't remember.</p><p>he was making pancakes for his kids. which meant he was making pancakes for everyone. we used either bisquick or krusteaz. i know we had both in the house. apartment. condo! ugh.</p><p>he probably wasn't even telling me. maybe he was, though, bc his kids were younger than us and weren't interested in pancakes. was i watching because he was cute? listening because he wasn't my parents and i didn't hate him like i hated his stuck up and too good for everyone wife (fuck, i did NOT get along with her. maybe she's who i learned how to be a bitch from. interesting. yes. always with the snide remarks. ooo this is good.)? this was before cell phones and you toobs. but we still walked around reading books when we could.</p><p>the two of them were 14 years older than me. i remember because on my 14th birthday they talked about how they were twice my age. or one of them was. christ with the memory. wow. they'll be 60. </p><p>where was i? pancakes.</p><p>he said you knew it was time to turn them when the bubbles showed up. maybe he had watched me flip them too soon and smash them. i remember holding the spatula on them (or was that grilled cheese? no. it was pancakes...my god...are you still reading?) to make the middle mound go away. they were always too thick.</p><p>he said the best time to turn them was when there were bubbles and the edge had started to cook. then it was an easy flip.</p><p>i remembered that this morning while watching bubbles form on pancakes.</p><p>i saw the bubbles and noticed the edges solidifying a bit. i slid my spatula around the pancake edge into the middle for the perfect flip.</p><p>the first pancake is usually a dud. i got two pancakes in a row before my first "grilled" pancake. small adjustments. </p><p>always small adjustments.</p>Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-60703624917812899992023-06-21T07:00:00.003-07:002023-06-21T12:07:52.417-07:00forgiveness<p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I listened to a podcast this weekend. Sunday afternoon, to be exact. I don’t usually listen to this podcast. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The host mentioned a letter her mom had written to her. Her mom had framed it for her as a gift. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" /><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wasn’t sure about this podcast. It’s not one I subscribe to, but it’s on my radar. The title of the episodes don’t have anything to do with the subject. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" /><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The mother’s gift to her daughter was a list of knowledge. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" /><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The host read the list aloud, taking the time to further explore each nugget. The very first thing on the list was about forgiveness. Forgiveness is not for the other person. It’s for you. By not forgiving this person, they own you. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" /><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After my world was shaken like a snow globe and I was shattered and destroyed. After I reached out to my hearts and they wrapped their words around me. After I questioned reality and my very own existence. I remembered the words from earlier in the day and said this over and over again in my head... “I forgive you I forgive you I forgive you.” I used it to drown out the sound of his voice in my head. I used it to blur out his face across that table from me. I used it as a balm on my shattered heart and twisting mind. I used it to erase him from my life; imagining a different reality. I used it as I fell asleep (finally), eyes puffy, tea cooling on the nightstand, wrapped in my knight’s arms, our heartstrings secured around us. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" /><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I forgive you I forgive you I forgive you. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" /><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Forgiveness is mine. And it’s not for you. </span></p>Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-5599230408090504052023-05-10T19:22:00.012-07:002023-07-18T14:07:52.426-07:00today is a weird day and there are a hundred reasons for it<p>5/10/23 6:55pm Weds. At home.</p><p>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.</p><p>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? </p><p>i've been shoving these memories away for decades. more than half my life.</p><p>but now. i walk toward the walled forest that holds so many memories. i'm a princess meeting and fighting her own beasts. i carry a sword, my knight's heartstring, a journal and pen.</p><div>the forest gate is weather worn and you can see through parts of it. i peek through the cracks before opening it every time.</div><p>i hear the monsters rustle as they hear the gate drag against the forest floor. i should get that fixed. but fuck it. let them hear me coming.</p><div>some monsters have been more sleepy than others. a few have been waiting for me.</div><p>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 hide and watch me.</p><p>some monsters have been small and easily tamed. others i sense deep in the forest; their eyes glow at me. taunting. </p><p>"tomorrow," i whisper to them, to me.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>i uncovered notebooks from my junior year of high school. i drive google maps passed our favorite park and save landmarks that used to be. i've pinpointed timestamps in my life that put my memories into focus. </p><p>some memories confuse me still.</p><p>i am safe. i am safe. i am safe.</p><p>721pm</p>Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-85038230794097032872023-02-22T19:39:00.000-08:002023-02-22T19:39:44.678-08:00better 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.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-57481773318334526192020-10-15T21:38:00.024-07:002021-01-26T09:44:03.325-08:00phantom limb<p>i have all of these words and feelings about you, around you, toward you. without you.</p><p>you are torture. toxic. angry. bitter.</p><p>in pain.</p><p>i wouldn't say you were a limb cut off of me. it was more a slow wrenching of a limb. constantly painful. </p><p>painful still.</p><p>you're out there. in the world. still full of anger and spreading your toxicity.</p><p>victim.</p><p>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.</p><p>losing you is more than losing my sister, my oldest sister, my big sister. it is also losing the history you hold. </p><p>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. <i>you knew.</i></p><p>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.</p><p>which makes sense, because we are sisters.</p><p>does it ever go away?</p><p>i think sometimes it might, and that hurts even more. knowing you're out there, wondering just wondering always wondering.</p><p>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.</p><p>"why don't you go cry over your dead dad's grave."</p><p>i should have slapped you.</p><p>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.</p><p>i still feel rage. and now immediate sadness. my eyes burn with unshed tears. they pool as i try to blink them away.</p><p>where did that big sister go? the one i held hands with as i fell asleep?</p><p>so much complicated grief. </p>Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-31903582908542762222019-02-26T22:10:00.000-08:002019-02-27T10:11:22.589-08:00141four 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
i don't like obnoxious people. drinking used to make them "tolerable" or i didn't care as much when i was drinking.<br />
<br />
i am currently grumpy pants.Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-18532677610199818032019-02-04T07:59:00.000-08:002019-02-27T10:02:38.293-08:00117 days - super bowli 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
i felt dumb and lame with my sprite. a wine glass was passed in front of me for someone else to taste.<br />
<br />
"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.<br />
<br />
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.)<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
oh, and we didn't drink. i didn't even think about drinking.Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-9425339338402374392019-01-25T07:38:00.000-08:002019-01-29T09:18:16.712-08:00teai 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
108 days.Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-41119570490415979332019-01-12T16:17:00.000-08:002019-01-15T12:22:49.299-08:0090 and 98 dayspeople 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.<br />
<br />
but still.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
today is 98 days.Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-5452749540572560522018-12-11T07:25:00.000-08:002018-12-11T16:26:22.750-08:0063 ish daysi'm losing count of the days! which is nice. i mean, i know the general number. oh. yesterday was 63 days. today will be 64.<br />
<br />
ANYWAY. i've been having really annoying and stressful dreams lately. it isn't because of the lack of booze, though. i've had crazy weird dreams forever.<br />
<br />
i'm planning a holiday party at work, and people are showing up late and sitting at the wrong tables. they're bringing more people than they said they would and it's a mess.<br />
<br />
there are less than 10 people at our actual holiday party, which basically just required me to make reservations at a restaurant and enter our names into an online gift exchange generator. so i don't know where this is coming from. work stress in general? maybe.<br />
<br />
i keep getting flashbacks of this dream during the day at work and it's really annoying. i think it was actually the office christmas tree decorations this year. every year it's a whole thing. the tree is lame, the lights aren't enough, the ornaments are terrible. i have NEVER decorated a tree and said "that is an ugly tree, the lights are wrong, the ornaments aren't right." in my opinion, the messier the better.<br />
<br />
ALSO WHERE ARE ALL THE COLORED LIGHTS THEY NEED TO BE ON THE TREE, DAMMIT.<br />
<br />
well. i think we found the origin of my stress. thank you.<br />
<br />
xo<br />
yoYohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-40130345368008589102018-11-25T12:14:00.000-08:002019-01-15T12:15:53.786-08:0046 days - a post thanksgiving postthanksgiving was great. i mean it was greater than great. i don't have the words. it was nice, it was mellow, it was delicious, it was perfect. we played new games, learned a new way to carve a turkey, and it was perfect.<br />
<br />
i made blueberry mint lemonade. people drank beers (beers i'm not a fan of), and there was wine and vodka. there were drinkers and non drinkers, and the interesting thing i realized (and i read this in a book that someone also realized--maybe i realized it because they pointed it out?) is that i would have been the drunkest person in the room. i would have been deep "in my cups" as my aunt likes to say. more so than anyone else.<br />
<br />
i <i>still </i>had fun. i was still loud and obnoxious. i still laughed hard and enjoyed everyone's company. i was a little bit on edge in the beginning; there was that little voice that came and went that said "everyone is wondering why you aren't drinking." i pushed it away and it came less and less frequent until i didn't notice it anymore.<br />
<br />
i was able to focus on conversations and make sure people were included in conversations. everyone pretty much knew each other, so it wasn't hard.<br />
<br />
i did wake up full of shame, momentarily. i stayed at my sister's house for the night, as i usually did when i drank heavily. i would wake up full of shame. with a headache and queasy. i would wake up assuming i was imposing on my sister and bro-in-law. how lame they (and everyone) must think i am because i stayed at my sister's house. i would wonder what stupid things i said the night before, and go into a very deep shame spiral about everything...work, friends, high school, events over the last oh THOUSAND years. and then the usual what am i even doing with my life?<br />
<br />
i woke up in that strange bed and it couldn't have been for more than a second that i started this in my head and i realized i didn't need to do it. nothing happened the night before, i wasn't hungover, i wasn't imposing.<br />
<br />
we took a group picture before everyone left thanksgiving night. i was bossy. (what!? people weren't sitting in the right place!) eyes were rolled at me. and i thought to myself... i'm still me. obnoxious and loud. and everyone still loved me.Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-49800882379524598472018-11-20T22:19:00.000-08:002018-11-21T09:32:34.522-08:00lucky thanksgiving - 44 daysis it more than luck? i am lucky that i do not have a family that insists on drinking during the holidays. well. maybe that's not true. there is a part of my family that i'm nervous to be around while they drink. but that will be during the summer.<br />
<br />
i don't feel pressure to drink this holiday season. i've surrounded myself with people who know what i'm doing and are supportive about it.<br />
<br />
i've told people, not because i wanted them to know, but i needed them to keep me honest. if i told them i stopped drinking, then i wouldn't order a drink while out with them.<br />
<br />
i'm making lemonade; a nice blueberry mint lemonade that "adults" can add their own juice to.<br />
<br />
we have games, i ordered more games because of course why not.<br />
<br />
it'll be a small batch of good humans i'm excited to hang out with.<br />
<br />
it'll be 45 days on thanksgiving.<br />
<br />
xoYohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-11131980381982370062018-11-17T21:23:00.000-08:002018-11-17T21:23:06.083-08:00You know what’s weird?Bottle openers on keychains.Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-3478589771052526242018-11-14T07:40:00.000-08:002018-11-14T09:41:40.058-08:0036 daysso my previous post. it was all in my head. by that i mean, wow, can we imagine things or what. i imagined myself opening the cabinet, the bottle, pouring a drink, and then getting drunk.<br />
<br />
when i'm faced with the actual decision, the decision is no. sometimes it's easier than other times. well. sometimes it's less hard than other times. it's not quite easy yet.<br />
<br />
my boss let me know that she and i are attending a conference at the beginning of december. in vegas. i was never a big vegas person. i didn't see the appeal. but she is. and i'm nervous about telling her that i stopped drinking. maybe i should feign being sick? stay in my room? i'm totally fine with that.<br />
<br />
interesting. telling her is ... interesting.Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-33116433499127042342018-11-08T18:49:00.000-08:002018-11-14T09:41:54.468-08:0031 days: it shouldn't be hardi keep thinking that this shouldn't be so hard. i should just, i mean, not drink and that's the end of it. right? i'm a normal person. not the "a" word. but there's a voice in my head that whispers "just one" and "they won't care" and "no one will know". why is that voice there? why is it so hard to ignore?<br />
<br />
and that voice and the fact that it is hard to get that thought out of my head is what tells me that this is the best decision.<br />
<br />
it's 31 days today that i haven't had a drink. it's a big number! bigger than two weeks, 28 days, even 30 days.<br />
<br />
i'm house-sitting at my sister's and bro-in-law's house. they have a cat and i am obsessed with her. i'm mostly there to cater to the cat and make sure she doesn't lock herself in or under anything she shouldn't.<br />
<br />
there's booze in the house. a lot. they host a lot of parties, they have friends who come over, they have booze for parties, friends bring booze for parties, they have booze for themselves.<br />
<br />
they have booze i used to drink. i could still drink.<br />
<br />
i was having a hard time knowing i would be there with all the booze, and that they wouldn't mind if i had any of it. just there. mine for the drinking. and then i thought i was making a big deal out of it, and then i asked my sister to hide the booze. and she asked "all of it?" and then i realized how dumb it was for me to ask. i just wouldn't drink it! or i'd put it away. i asked her to just put away the vodka and any whites they had in the fridge.<br />
<br />
she didn't. she was busy, or didn't think i was serious, or forgot. whatever. WHATEVER, i just wouldn't drink it.<br />
<br />
i got there tuesday night and saw it there, kind of chuckled, and thought myself so good for not thinking about it (but i did think about it). then last night. my countdown (count up?) alarm went off at 9:10, reminding me that it had been one more day in my pile of tiny days. and then i thought of the vodka in the cabinet. the other opened bottles of booze. the wine in the fridge, the beers in the fridge, and whatever else was in the fridge.<br />
<br />
and then i made some tea and played around with the cat and watched tv.<br />
<br />
at home, i don't have booze. all the booze is gone. like not buying chips for the house. i can't eat just one, or a handful. i'll eat it all. same with booze. i don't want it, i don't need it, i don't buy it. so when the 9:10 alarm goes off, i sit contentedly, knowing that i'm not going to leave the house at that point to get booze.<br />
<br />
but 9:10 rolled around at my sister's house, and it's all there. right there. all i have to do is get up and pour a glass or open a bottle. i could easily buy more to replace it, or not even replace it because they don't care.<br />
<br />
so this morning, as i got a coffee pod from the cabinet below the cabinet full of booze, i thought about moving it. where would i put it? take it to work and leave it there? i could do that. then what, bring it back tomorrow and spend friday night with it?<br />
<br />
i got the milk from the fridge, behind the cranberry juice and between a variety of beers, and looked up and stared at all of the beers. and i said fuck it.<br />
<br />
i put the beers in a bag, with the vodka, and a few proseccos. i set it on the counter. i took a picture of it. i was worried the bag handles would snap. where was i going to put this?<br />
<br />
in my trunk.<br />
<br />
between my trunk and myself in the house, there are plenty of obstacles. the kitchen, the coffee maker. the tea keep, water. if i made it past all of that, i'd have to get my keys. unlock the garage door, unlock my car, and get to the bag. i put obstacles in my way.<br />
<br />
i'm still considering not sleeping there tonight.<br />
<br />
31 days. is it getting easier or have i been lying to myself? i've been staying away from people/places that put my sobriety in jeopardy.<br />
<br />
sobriety. what a weird word. "my sobriety". what a weird combination of words. a friend of mine used that in a text today, when i texted her a picture of the booze and told her what i did.<br />
<br />
it's a thing i have now, i guess. a sobriety. a sobriety of my own. my sobriety.<br />
<br />
i ordered another bracelet. this one will say:<br />
<br />
you don't even like it<br />
it is not worth it<br />
<br />
my talismans. talismen? my wonder woman cuffs.Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-4801958920795184882018-11-05T21:20:00.001-08:002018-11-05T21:20:25.516-08:0028 days!¡<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinNWrI_zXPeFg8ekzuASPP_KCosKuXgnfbd2Texw7Us_3Jq6fuBMV35bYmmnm0gfB_TNmYl9geDrUjYoHeHs8InLYmRnJwccyFqp3oZ67AjKFmFxVyIMLSZbP9MHhTdQsB78mkfZ9ek9Q/s1600/C8643961-1822-4FBD-9881-EA9EE17BD606.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="336" data-original-width="750" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinNWrI_zXPeFg8ekzuASPP_KCosKuXgnfbd2Texw7Us_3Jq6fuBMV35bYmmnm0gfB_TNmYl9geDrUjYoHeHs8InLYmRnJwccyFqp3oZ67AjKFmFxVyIMLSZbP9MHhTdQsB78mkfZ9ek9Q/s320/C8643961-1822-4FBD-9881-EA9EE17BD606.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And a little medal-looking badge. A chip? ;)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This is the longest in recent history that I haven’t had a drink. We’re talking at least five years. Probably more. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I feel silly. But also serious. And grateful that I’m doing this now. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
But kind of silly that I’m making it this big deal. If it wasn’t a big deal, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Like, the fact that it’s hard for me not to drink says a lot, and that I made the right choice. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Also, PS, crabby and blue today. I blame the sugar yesterday from the peanut M&Ms and piece of chocolate chip cookie. And also that other cookie at lunch today.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Tea helped, the Yogi Detox flavor. Must drink more water. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
xo, yo </div>
<br />Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-27857218420781515632018-10-31T21:57:00.000-07:002018-11-05T16:42:48.293-08:00goodnessgoodness is in this first sip of coffee<br />
quiet drives in the morning<br />
a fiery sunset turning the air pink<br />
old friends with framed words<br />
old friends with big words<br />
late nights with tea<br />
mid days with tea<br />
mid nights with tea<br />
early mornings and coffee<br />
(you. guys. <i>early. mornings</i>.)<br />
flannel sheets<br />
books before bed<br />
waking up rested<br />
before the alarm<br />
discovering winding roads and hidden lakes<br />
words etched in a bracelet<br />
weekend mornings<br />
sleeping in (and not because hungover)<br />
<br />
this peace<br />
this calm<br />
this clean slateYohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-18667575955962279282018-10-29T21:11:00.000-07:002018-10-29T21:11:53.864-07:0021 days !! ¡¡Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-79181831755173006382018-10-26T20:46:00.000-07:002018-11-06T16:03:44.829-08:00i wanted to come home to you and tell you my secrets.instead, i made tea and thought about all the secrets we shared over a decade ago. all those whispers in the dark.<br />
<br />
which didn't help any.<br />
<br />
and then i googled "why people shouldn't date when newly sober".<br />
<br />
and then i read. and it made sense.<br />
<br />
and then i sipped more tea and went back to <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Sober-Diaries-stopped-drinking-started/dp/1473661900/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1540838400&sr=8-1">my book</a>.<br />
<br />
still, you linger. and i wonder. and imagine those words coming out of my mouth.<br />
<br />
what do i even want? is it even fair? it can't be fair. it's not fair. i shouldn't.<br />
<br />
this is stupid. is it stupid?Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-26149541799677463002018-10-25T07:27:00.000-07:002018-10-26T11:05:39.862-07:00that annoying personi feel like i'm an annoying person shouting at the rooftops about how amazing it is not to drink, and how bad it is to drink. i mean, maybe not the last part. but i do want to talk about it with people, and most people in my life drink.<br />
<br />
i'm <strike>kind of</strike> obsessed with the blogs and the instagram accounts and the books and articles. and it's all mostly new information to me! EVERYONE SHOULD KNOW THIS WHY AREN'T WE TALKING ABOUT IT? i talk about space! the environment! and people have conversations with me about it!<br />
<br />
i know i just need to mellow out a little bit.Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-6489044067187657542018-10-24T20:06:00.002-07:002018-10-26T11:06:14.953-07:00today was a hard daywork was stressful. i’ve had harder days at work.<br />
<br />
i ate more salt and sugar than I should have.<br />
<br />
i feel blue and needy.<br />
<br />
all i wanted today after work was to face plant on the couch. and I told myself that was okay. so i did. and i’m downing a huge glass of water and making tea soon.<br />
<br />
tomorrow is for laundry and sewing. and less salt and sugar.<br />
<br />
maybe the same neediness. looking forward to being less blue.<br />
<br />
maybe i’ll be green or purple tomorrow. or a nice fuscia. yes. fuscia.Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1519282238351530873.post-64961421581534255352018-10-24T19:04:00.000-07:002018-10-26T11:06:37.466-07:00cravingsyesterday i went to the store. for tea. because new evening habits and all. i acknowledged the pull to the wine aisle and perused the frozen section. potstickers! teeny tiny steak appetizer bites! i hit the granola bar area and bought a box of granola bars i forgot i didn't like (brought them into work today), and walked down the baking aisle because i thought that's where the honey was. for the tea, you know.<br />
<br />
stopped there for a while. have you seen all of the "cup of cake" and "cup of brownie" stuff they have out lately? because man. BUT, no plain old regular chocolate cake. only dark dark chocolate and other combos.<br />
<br />
so i got a cup of brownie.<br />
<br />
AND THEN a blueberry muffin mix. did you know it also works for pancakes?!<br />
<br />
and today i'm a bit frustrated at work. which is refreshing and also annoying. i didn't think the frustration would go away? and i guess i am dealing with it differently. it seems to pass quicker? or i don't rumiate as much? i could be making that up.<br />
<br />
i'm having cravings for salty/sweet things. OH! i also bought two containers of cookies for the office. because i wanted a couple and knew i couldn't keep them in the house.<br />
<br />
after i unpacked at home yesterday i realized what i had done with the salty/sweet snacks. i wondered how they would affect me, since i removed the daily dose of sugar.<br />
<br />
so. something else to keep an eye on.Yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14515522021380382847noreply@blogger.com0