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Day 2,796 – Demystifying Meditation with Magic Shell

Dear Sobriety,

I am so excited to talk to you about sitting quietly! Seriously! It’s my new favorite thing to do! So much so that I do it for 20 minutes twice a day!

My dear partner was instructed on Transcendental Meditation (TM) in 1975. After he shared his experience with me, I decided I needed to at least try it out for myself. If there’s a way to tap into the type of calm that my partner carries, then yes, please. Sign me the fuck up. And yesterday, if not before!

He said there are over 350 peer reviewed research studies published in the most highly respected medical and science publications! “Go ahead, Google it,” he said. I did. Sure enough, I learned there are 380+ peer-reviewed research studies conducted on TM published in over 160 scientific journals and conducted at numerous universities and research centers worldwide. Science backs this up, friends!! SCIENCE!!

I’m not here to sell you on TM. So if you’re about to cancel me because you think this is going to come with a price tag, here’s a chance to change your mind.

I recommend the type of mediation practice – mantra based – TM touts, but I don’t think you HAVE to have a mantra assigned by a TM instructor to be able to gain the benefits and learn how to “do it correctly”. Because we have the internet now – unlike the 1970s when my partner learned.

Where I’m located, TM instruction is only offered once a month, so I had a bit of time to start building up a routine before being assigned a mantra of my own. In that time, I did some internet sleuthing and found a really cool article on Harvard Health Publishing explaining some of the benefits of a consistent, mantra-based meditation practice called The Relaxation Response: A once (and future) meditator tries the relaxation response for stress.

After I read that article, I found a YouTube of Dr. Herbert Benson Teaching You The Basics of The Relaxation Response and used that as my “guide” to self-start my practice.

The first mantra I chose was “peace” and I felt good with that. I continued my self-start journey by googling TM mantras and “trying them on” to see how each felt inside. It’s hard to explain, so you’re gonna have to trust me until you start your own practice.

It was fun for me. I kept coming back for more and THAT is what made me realize that there might be something to this.

As someone with ADHD, PTSD and a whole slew of other mental health acronyms behind my name, getting my brain to be quiet for five seconds is a feat – let alone 20 minutes, twice a day. But I can do it with a mantra. Easily.

My experience with guided meditation has been ho-hum at best. I always found myself fidgeting and hoping that time would speed up, so I could get this over with and on with my life. I got all the things to do, don’t ya know?! All the things!

Saying my mantra, I’m not fighting off thoughts. I’m able to experience the moment. I’m able to treasure the moment. I’m able to live the moment.

Recently, I’ve even let go of the need to check the clock. One of my first concerns with starting my TM practice was:

How do I know when 20 minutes is done?

First of all, it’s ok to open your eyes to check the time. You’ll find you’re not ruining any of the Meditation Magic just because you need to be aware of when your work lunch hour is up. That’s real life.

~ How I made time tracking easier ~
I keep a clock in direct line of sight. I note the time when I start, do mental time math and add 20 minutes (this is not a skill that comes easily to me), then I close my eyes and start. I peek as needed. Over the last two weeks, I’ve peeked less… and less… and less… And the last couple days, I’ve just opened my eyes and it’s right at 20 minutes. It’s so fucking cool!!!!!

I’m not asleep when meditating. I’m fully aware of everything happening around me, but I’m soaking in a deep, deep well of calm. Each time I leave that calm, I’m coated in a thin, invisible layer of peace. With each session, that layer gets a tiny bit thicker.

Think of it like Magic Shell on an ice cream cone. The first time you dip an ice cream in Magic Shell, it’s immediately covered in an opaque shell of deliciousness. But you have to be careful because that shell can be easily shattered.

But if you dip it again… and dip again… and again… See where I’m going with this? I can’t be the only one who’s put so much Magic Shell on their ice cream that they needed a steak knife to saw into it, right?! I digress…

So right now I’m walking around with two months of Meditation Magic Shell on me and it’s really starting to show in my lack of reaction to life around me.

The thing is… there’s not really a lot of “evidence” to show you how much it’s helping me. What’s showing to an outsider is probably not a lot – other than a stupid grin on my face. But what’s happening inside my head is astounding. I’m not reacting to things that would normally spin me the fuck up and I’m not overstimulated.

Let’s get real for a sec: I’m on my period, my hip hurts like fuck because it’s still healing, I had to get new rear brakes unexpectedly this week, a coworker yelled at me in the office on Friday and my energy vampire has been a complete fuckwit this week. Oh… and work is absolutely stupid stressful still. But none of that has even started to crack through my Meditation Magic Shell. What?! What?!

Also, my focus is out of the fucking roof, I’m more present in conversations and I have insatiable hunger for information on self-improvement.

Speaking of hunger for self-improvement, since starting my meditation practice, I’ve read three fiction books and am halfway through my fourth. I’m also simultaneously reading two other nonfiction books. I’ve listened to one nonfiction book-on-tape (yep, I’m still gonna call it that) and started another – I have at least three more in my queue. And I’m retaining this info. This is on top of working my 40 hour a week job, time with my partner, time with friends and community, eating well, meditating, and getting hip-friendly exercise in.

Oh! And my self-talk has improved immensely! I knocked over a big cup of water while cleaning my kitchen cabinets and, right on cue, as soon as that cup made impact with the floor, my inner critic started berating me. I literally stopped myself and said outloud, “It was an accident MonicaSue. Just get a towel and clean it up.” And I did. And then I moved on. It was that easy.

I’m so curious to see how my practice continues to grow. I’ve become my own voyeur watching me grow from inside my electric meatball (aka 🧠) and I couldn’t be happier about it.

Posted on by monicatbd

Day 2,793 – Words Have Power ~ Tap In

Dear Sobriety,

I’ve been on a journey of self-discovery and growth since getting sober in 2017, but maybe even more so after starting my meditation practice two months ago…

While meditation isn’t the subject of this blog, I must mention it because it’s allowed me to tap into a new level of motivation. I have an insatiable hunger for information on how to be a better me right now. I’m piling it on my plate as fast as I would at the Chinese buffet after I see they put a new stack of piping hot plates out.

Suffice it to say, I’m inspired to learn and my focus is here to support that (another benefit of meditation).

While listening to Jen Sincero’s You Are a Badass Every Day: How to Keep Your Motivation Strong, Your Vibe High, and Your Quest for Transformation Unstoppable (highly recommend btw), I noticed the way she used the word “quest” in lieu of “goal” a couple of times and it got me thinking…

I know that if I find the right words, I’m able to shift my perception and, quite possibly, my attitude about a person, place, thing or idea. I can go from not wanting to do something to fully embracing it by doing absolutely nothing outside of flipping a few words around. Because, I’ve learned, if I can make something sound fun, or “gameify” it, to coin a term I learned from a couple of dear friends, I’m more apt to do it.

Try it for yourself! Instead of saying “goal”, replace that with “journey” or “quest”.

Here’s how I did it: “this is my weight loss journey” vs “this is my weight loss goal”.

~ Why it works for me ~
The word journey just sounds more engaging than the word goal at a base level. A journey also implies an adventure. And an adventure implies there’s going to be more than just the possibility of reaching the finish line. It makes room for each individual event that may happen along the way. And that accounts for not only the possibility of ups, but the reality of downs. Or even the periods of feeling stagnant and like nothing is happening at all.

Journey (noun): an act of traveling from one place to another.

~ Another way to think of it ~
I love the movie Lord of the Rings because of all the twists and turns they experience along their journey, but there are points in that movie where I’m bored or feeling impatient waiting for the fiery dragon to come back on screen.

Those periods of boredom and stagnation are also real parts in my weight loss journey. I didn’t realize it at the time, but in hindsight I can (mostly) see that my stagnant periods were actively building, if nothing else, a new level of patience in me. I’m able to then see the “this too shall pass” life lesson. And this is all by just changing one word: “goal” to “journey”.

With one word change, I’m able to understand that there’s probably going to be BS I have to deal with along the way. But with one word change, I can accept that the BS will ultimately feed into some amazing character and personality development.

Posted on by monicatbd

Day 2,757 – In Service to Mother Eath

Dear Sobriety,

My entire adult life I’ve thought:

I’m just one person. My recycling won’t make a difference, so why bother?

Welp… I’m glad I finally decided to bother because in the last couple of months, I’ve really started changing the way I do things at home. It just took one angst-fueled, uncomfortable trip to the recycling place to learn the lay of the land and now I’m a recycling fool! And I couldn’t be more excited!

Living alone, I continue to be surprised with the amount of stuff that I sort and drop off. A week’s worth of junk mail, yogurt cups, salad containers, soup jars and broken down cardboard nearly fills my little hatchback.

My favorite part is the unexpected therapy I get every time I have glass jars to take. The bin is perfect for chucking things against the inside wall. And I think Drop Dead Fred said it best:

I love those breaking noises!

Once I got my routine down, a whole slew of unexpected net positives have resulted:

  • I started noticing how much less I was putting into my garbage can. I live in an apartment complex with shared dumpsters and now I don’t have to trek my cat’s shit to the dumpster as often. Why didn’t I start this sooner?? Oh and less in the bag means less bags used too! That’s logic!
  • I’m changing what I buy based on the packaging now. For example, instead of plastic pouches of wet food for my SunnyCat, I’ve switched back to aluminum cans.
  • I’m even shitting differently! I’m one roll into my 24 pack of bamboo TP and lemme tell you… switch. It is more expensive, sure, but it’s so freaking soft on my hiney. And… get ready for this… the sheets tear at the perforations. Yep. Pick your jaw back up off the floor and press Add To Cart. Mother Earth will thank you for choosing sustainability for her.
  • Free dopamine. Knowing that just me really can make a difference is huge and it makes putting out the effort literally joyful for me. I never expected rinsing out my yogurt cups to be a fulfilling task in the slightest, but it truly has become something I look forward to.

So yeah… I guess you could say that me and Mother Earth are getting pretty serious about each other.

Posted on by monicatbd · 1 Comment

Day 2,724 – Why I’m so passionate about sharing my story.

Dear Sobriety,

Shortly after my first divorce, I learned my ex-husband had placed “odds” on me.

He predicted once our divorce came through, I’d either end up in the psych ward, jail or dead. Those were the only options he gave me.

Since getting sober, I’ve made it my personal mission to not live up to his expectations. Part of that is purposely embracing both light and dark sides of myself – as well as every shade between.

I don’t want to hide from the life I’ve lived, simply because, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s been bumpy at times, sure, but I think we all go through varying degrees of that from time-to-time.

Instead, I want to shine a light on it. I want to celebrate the fact that a person can succeed even when others are betting against them. This post is me turning my metaphorical flashlight on.

This is the first period of time as an adult that I feel like I can say I’m “stable”. I don’t particularly like the word, especially with my mental health history, but let’s go with it cause it helps me paint a picture for you in the form of a timeline…

My milestone life events have all surrounded romantic relationships. And most of those have been tumultuous, at best. Life threatening, at worst… yeah. But let’s put a pin in that for now because I’m just trying to convey the sense of chaos my life has been, not get into the weeds.

Since this is a timeline, I’ll use age ranges as a scale.

  • Age 0 – 16: Lived with parents.
  • Age 16 – 18: Highschool relationship started.
  • Age 18: Moved into a shared apartment during trade school → Moved back into parents’ house after I graduated.
  • Age 19 – 20: First full-time job → Move out of my parents’ and in with highschool boyfriend → Break up with highschool boyfriend and move to my own apartment→ Get back together with highschool boyfriend and move into a different apartment together → Break up with highschool boyfriend and move to my own aparment.
  • Age 20: Engage in relationship with highschool crush to make highschool ex-boyfriend jealous. Crush and I didn’t move in together. Instead we spent most of my non-working time drinking at his mom’s house before he turned 21. Once he turned 21, we broke up because my 21st birthday was still months away. I shit you not. I got jealous because he could go out wherever without concern if he got carded. It was within weeks of his bday that we broke up and then…

I met my soon-to-be first ex-husband at work (getting into relationships with coworkers is also a vice I had). That relationship was nearly a decade, so I’ll dig into the weeds a bit here.

  • Age 21: Moved in together less than three months after meeting.
  • Age 22: Bought a house → Got married.

Sidenote: around this time I began spending varying periods of time in psych wards. This pattern continued to progress throughout the entirety of the marriage.

One day I’ll dig into my mental health journey here, but that’s not what I’m focusing on today. Just a gentle reminder that significant portions of my memory are gone – with this marriage being the main chunk of time that’s missing.

Where were we?

  • Age 23 – 25: Sold the house → Moved to the East Coast for his job. I was lucky enough that my job transferred to the same place.
  • Age 25 – 28: Moved back to the Midwest and bought a house. That marriage finally ended and then I really started entering a tumultuous time in my life…

Ope! One more interruption to help with context: My alcoholism was progressively getting worse throughout all of this.

During the entirety of my first marriage, any time he went on business travel – which was significant at times – I made drinking my first priority. To be honest, I was lucky I kept my job as long as I did. And when I did lose it, it was conveniently timed with a layoff. Wait… I’m getting in the weeds again.

Months after my first divorce came through I met my soon-to-be 2nd ex-husband. So we must be at…

  • Age 29 – 29.5: Met 2nd ex-hubs → Got engaged two weeks later → Got married two weeks after that. Screw you, 90 Day Fiance! I can ruin my life in 30 days as long as I stay within state lines!

Did you know how dark my humor is? It’s pretty dark and talking about my life resume helps me get it out to polish it off. Because that’s how I store my trauma. So thanks for reading…

Where were we? Shit. We haven’t even made it to 30 yet, so I’ll fast forward a bit…

  • Age 29.5 – 30: Moved in with my parents temporarily and filed for a restraining order against my 2nd ex → 30 days later moved into my own place in my hometown → Filed for my 2nd divorce.
  • Age 30 – 31: Really boring relationship with another coworker. While we didn’t cohabitate, we did spend nearly all of our waking hours together in a gross, clingy and unhealthy way.

There also was the chase down the highway with him too… but overall it was a pretty boring relationship.

But then… I met Butthead (another coworker).

If I’m going to get this out of my fingertips tonight, I’m just going to approach it like an ADHD train of thought and let it all out in one breath!

  • Age 31 – 35.5: Moved in with a roommate after my 2nd divorce → Started dating Butthead → I moved into my own apartment → I moved into his house → We broke up and I moved into my own apartment → We get back together and I moved into his house → Got laid off from my job → I got fucking sober → Started a new job less than a month after getting sober.
  • NOVEMBER 16, 2017 was the first full day that I did not drink alcohol and I haven’t consumed a drop since then.
  • Age 35.5 – 37: We break up → I move out on my own.

Oh! Watch how the brakes of life start squealing when I start accepting and then embracing sobriety. It’s almost like life is literally slowing down after this.

  • Age 37 – 38: I move to a new apartment and not because of life pressures. This was the first time I’d ever taken more than 30 days to find and move into a new place. Most of my moves were short-notice and unplanned, as things tend to be with break-ups.
  • Age 38 – 39: Get back together with Butthead one last time. It was COVID. ‘Nuf said → During COVID, the job I had required me to be onsite and my early COVID anxiety would not allow that, so I actually responded to a random recruiter email and got a job contracting at the company I’m employed at presently.
  • Age 39: A week after I had foot surgery, my dad passed away unexpectedly.
  • Age 39 – 40: Finally realize that the relationship with Butthead wasn’t making either of us happy and ended it.
  • Age 40 – 41: Met my partner → shoulder surgery → neck surgery 1 → neck surgery 2.
  • Age 42: I think Colonel Sandurz from Spaceballs said it best, “We’re in the ‘Now’ now.”

If you’d like to see him say that, here’s the YouTube. After reading this far, you need a break, no doubt, so I hope you do check out that video.

Wow… so now we’re here. I’m at this point in my life where I realize that the last few years I’ve been living ready for a major life event requiring me to once again, literally, pick up my life and move.

While there have been life events – job changes, break-ups, surgeries for myself and my loved ones, death – I’ve finally realized that I’ve been able to carve out a place of solace for myself in the midst of it.

I think maybe it’s time to lean into the comfort of that thought a bit. Allow myself a bit of grace for all the hard work that I’ve done in-spite of things outside of my control. Hug myself for the resilience I’ve gained in the process. Acknowledge that, yes, things were really shitty at times, but I’m still here and I like to think there’s a reason for that.

A reason for me. Maybe even a few.

Posted on by monicatbd

Day 2,592 – Money Shot… … No. Not what you’re expecting.

Dear Sobriety,

Ignoring your problems doesn’t make them go away. Believe me, I’ve tried.

Something I’ve been putting off since my last divorce is creating a budget for myself. FYI, my last divorce was finalized in 2013. How I’ve been surviving since then has been a combo of repeated debt consolidation and hoping for the best. Pretty official, eh? Jesus. It makes me sick to think of all the crap I’ve voluntarily ignored and how much stress I could have avoided if I’d have just…

**insert any number of logical and financially responsible decisions here… list them all here, if you’d like**

… but nope. I can’t think that way. Because if if’s and but’s were candy and nuts, we’d all have a Merry Christmas. But they’re not. And I’ve had far too much candy for the holiday season already, so I definitely don’t need more. What? Am I digressing? Never!

Regardless, the actions have been made and I can’t allow myself to get lost in the endless merry go round of “what if”. That doesn’t do anyone any good and to be honest, it’s just not relevant information anymore. There’s no magic button and since I never buy lottery tickets, there’s no possibility of an easy out, so I guess that means it’s time to do work.

There’s going to be grumbling. There’s going to be pouting. There’s going to be a lack of nonsense at times – that’s the hardest part for me. Amazon’s stock is probably going to go down from my lack of purchases of random silliness and slut clothes. I’m going to have to deal with that gnawing debate of “need” vs “want” and make the financially responsible decision each time regardless of how much fun the other decision would possibly create.

Blargh! But I don’t wanna!! I think Harry from Resident Alien says it best,

> This is some bullshit.

Let’s be honest… it can always be worse. At least I’m not in a cervical collar anymore!

In good news, I’m learning that cleaning adds up cumulatively just like not cleaning. Things seem to continue to get a little nicer at home and I feel like I’m thriving – as opposed to existing – in my personal space again.

Also, when getting my laptop and paperwork in order before starting my budget, I found my remote shutter! Either I or ADHD misplaced it the other day, so that was a nice little surprise to kick off my budget creation and keep me motivated to follow it through.

Adult responsibilities are not my forte. I’ve continually proven that. However, since I’ve gotten sober, I’ve also repeatedly proven that I am ever-evolving in a positive direction. There may be steps taken back here and there. Sometimes even in a row. But the consistent want to make myself into a better person than I was yesterday is my main driver to wake up in the morning now. And I think that says a lot.

Posted on by monicatbd

Day 2,565 – DIY Cleaning Spray: Leave a little sparkle wherever you go!

Dear Sobriety,

Sometimes I think we get in our own way and make things difficult with too many choices. I never know what’s going to work and work well when it comes to cleaning and different sprays and foams and lions and tigers and bears! Oh my! There goes my anxiety! So lately I’ve been actively working to simplify things in all facets of my life. Welcome to the facet that gets a nice shine on it. 🧼

I am by no means a specialist in how to get stuff clean. But I am a dirty bitch and I put this DIY cleaning spray through it’s paces today and I have yet to be disappointed. My only complaint is my hands are dry from the alcohol, but I’ll take that because I haven’t had to worry about my pets, plants, clothes, staining, bumping into shit, fumes, etc, etc, etc.

So far, I’ve used it on:

  • Kitchen surfaces
  • Bathroom surfaces
  • Shower / Tub
  • Living room / Bedroom surfaces and tchotchkes and nonsense that makes me smile
  • Mirrors / Glass
  • Blinds
  • Floors

So now that we know we’re dirty, how do we get clean?

🫧 DIY Household Cleaner 🫧

  • Glass Spray Bottle (my personal preference, but plastic is fine too)
  • 1 Cup Rubbing Alcohol (I use 70%)
  • 1 Cup Distilled Water
  • 1 Tablespoon White Vinegar

Combine in bottle with a shake, shake, shake.
Spray on surface and wipe away built up bullshit with microfiber cloth.
Smile. You’ve done something positive for yourself today.

Need grit for soap scum? Add a sprinkle of Borox on the dampened surface and scrub with your Scrub Daddy!

For mopping, I just mixed larger quantities and swish swished my way around like I knew what I was doing.

Posted on by monicatbd · 1 Comment

Day 2,455 – That was a lot to go through.

Dear Sobriety,

Started getting some pressure in my shoulder and early nerve pain symptoms a couple of weeks ago.  The feeling has been reminiscent of the beginning of my cervical disc surgery failing the first time.  I contacted my surgeon who took new X-rays and I have no screws loose!  It’s so fun to be able to say that to people. 

Nope. All eight screws are still where he left them and everything is good as far as that goes. I asked for a prescription for Physical Therapy to keep some medically trained hands on to help not only relieve the pressure in my shoulder and arm, but also quell the anxiety in my electric meatball. 

Knowing surgery can fail is one thing, but actually having it happen…I’m learning that adds a level of terrifying spice to every facet of your life.

So today was my first PT appointment and during the eval, I described my symptoms and explained my shoulder surgery and two neck surgeries and the therapist’s response was, “Wow. That was a lot to go through.”

Yes. It. Was. Three surgeries in less than a year is a lot.  And I haven’t given myself a chance to sit with that thought until now…

Posted on by monicatbd · 2 Comments

Day 2,453 – No Pain / No Gain

Dear Sobriety,

This is the fourth month in a row I’ve been on the top 10 members list at my gym. You’re ranked by sessions completed and in July I topped the list.  I’ve never been a gym rat before this and that made me wonder…

Would I have signed up with my gym had I not been in severe pain?  Pain relief and mental health were the two main reasons I joined. 

One bicep tendon repair and two rounds of cervical disc surgeries later…

This is the fourth month in a row I’ve been on the top 10 members list at my gym… those thighs tho.

PS I love ellipses almost as much as alliteration.

Posted on by monicatbd · 1 Comment

Day 2,446 – Learning to Draw: A Life Epiphany

I’m both excited and terrified to write this.  Because writing it makes the thoughts real and that means I can’t hide from them anymore and I have to take action.  Because that’s how my brain works. 

Hi.  I’m Monica and I’m not just flighty and impulsive.  I mean… I am, but I have ADHD.

This blog is going to be about how I’m almost 42 and have just had a major life / mental health epiphany.  A lot of pieces of my story have just fallen into place in the process and that’s sometimes good and sometimes it’s hard to deal with.  This is a little of both, but it’s been very healing in the process, so more than worth it IMHO. 

Over the last couple of years, there’s been some mourning going on for my younger self.  I’ve been going through an awakening of what ADHD actually is; how it so clearly affects me; and how I’m trying to learn how to use my brain better, tbh.  I’ve been over here berating myself my whole life for not fitting in with how I think when that’s actually not a bad thing. It’s just so blatantly obvious now that I’m upset with myself for not seeing this sooner.

Bonus feature: I just took my watch off to make it easier to type.  You may need to pull up your Log from Blammo to sit for a spell because this might end up better than bad.  Maybe even good?  *inserts link to Ren & Stimpy Log commercial*

My life up to moving out of my parents house at 18 was awesome. I did excellent at school and always kept my nose clean, if you will.  Or at least, I didn’t get caught doing anything so stupid that it caused irreparable damage in my adulthood…

…And as I type that last statement,  I’m making an “ehhhhhhh” face.  But outside of the first time I got drunk and that whole sequence of events at 16 which I’ve previously written about elsewhere…

I honestly feel I not only had a great and full childhood, but that my parents also gave me the freedom to be myself in the process.  And they all rejoiced.

However, being the independent, beat to her own drum gal that I am, I wanted to get out and on my own as soon as possible.  And I did.  I went to trade school and within 9 months of graduating highschool, my boyfriend at the time and I moved out on our own.  And my life started going to shit.

This is where the backstory starts…

I really like art, but I’m no good at drawing/painting/creating anything intelligible, so I love coloring books.  There is a clear foundation there for me to express myself inside.  Just like living at my parents house.  They had clear and established boundaries and expectations set for me (ie get good grades, stay out of trouble).  As long as I stayed within those lines, the colors didn’t have to match.  I could use whatever tools I had available to create within those lines.  And that’s really where I learned to have my fun: being ingenious and figuring out how to do the most with what I have.

When I moved out, I knew there were going to be bills and responsibilities.  I made a budget and stayed on track and colored within the lines that my boyfriend and I were creating.  But the lines were much lighter and I would find holes in them that I could easily exploit.  Even when it was to my own detriment.  Please see: Fuck around and find out.  And as such, the next two decades of my life were filled with letting my alcoholism, unhealthy relationships and repeated debt consolidations create the lines I would color within.

And boy have I colored.  I have colored so spectacularly.  Everywhere and anywhere.  There’s a little piece of Monica all over this world and I’m wonderfully unforgettable.  And I mean that in the best and worst possible ways because… them’s the facts.  

“Infamous is when you’re more than famous.”  Ned Nederlander, The Three Amigos

This is when we finally arrive at the sobriety period of Monica’s life, but she needs a little more time to figure out how to life on life’s terms without an all-consuming crutch.  That shit is hard to do because I was really good at drinking.  When you take away something that takes up 100% of your time outside of your job (which, let’s face it, you only go to because you need money to buy more booze), you gots to figure out what to do to fill that time.  And that’s when you start to pay attention to yourself.

Which leads to the next step… self-awareness.  I am not a line creator.  And I’m ok saying that.  

This is quite the Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride of a blog, eh?  I knew I took my watch off for a reason.  

So in my 6.5 years sobriety (holy shit holy shit holy shit – I’m so proud of you, me), I’ve been learning.  I’ve been listening.  I’ve been bitching about the fact that I’m so fucking aware of and with myself all the time.  But in the process, I’ve learned that I like being with myself most days and that I want to continue improving.  So I continue to listen and learn from and about myself.  I see where I can use improvement and now take the steps to do so.  And I’ve been seeing a lot of that lately.  I’ve been having too much fun and have been using the excuse of “I deserve this because not everyone has to go through two neck surgeries” and it’s time to start facing reality and setting boundaries for myself.

That means I have to finally admit that I have to create some lines for myself. Some lines that work for me.  Some lines that even I won’t find a way to squirm my way out of.  I’m excellent at creating simple and effective processes and I’m really good at solving problems, but my love to experience life at full volume and my impulsivity have always led me down a very memorable, but, at times, unhealthy path in life.  

It’s going to be hard to corral myself, but one little fact I do know about myself is that I’m excellent at cat wrangling.  In fact, so much so, feel free to creep out my LinkedIn, if you know me irl.  I actually have “cat wrangling” listed as a skill.  

So yeah.  That’s where we’re going to land this one, I think.  To be continued, no doubt, because there’s no end to this stream of consciousness.

Posted on by monicatbd · 3 Comments

Day 2,434 – A Message at the Gym

Maybe it’s time to start resurrecting this blog…

Dear Sobriety,

I wasn’t expecting to get a message from my dad at the gym tonight, but I did.  By the way, he passed away in 2022.

As I was walking out of the gym, I stopped to chat with one of the staff members – we’ll call her “Angel”.  She’s a neurospicy, gen-x, hippy chica like myself, so we get along great.  We’ve had some long winded chats about spirituality and how that looks for each of us.  In doing so, we’ve found we share a lot of the same beliefs.  Or maybe better said, we share a lot of ideas on possibilities.  I don’t know what I believe.  But I have a lot of thoughts about it.  I can tell you what I don’t believe more firmly.  But that’s not what we’re here to discuss tonight.

As I stopped to chat with Angel, we once again began hitting on the spiritual realm.  I kinda wanted to get home, but I do so love where our chats go, so I stayed a little longer. 

Her daughter had committed suicide in 2022 and I think I give her a safe space to talk about it, so we did.  She started in on how the other side looks like to her; what her higher power looks like; like, we were going deep.  And… I kinda wanted to disengage and go home.  

I was super sweaty and exhausted.  It was after the work day and I just wanted to begin the Jersey Shore and chillax portion of my evening.  As I began to disengage, I started to get dizzy.  

I know I’m hot after I work out and it is a pretty toasty day today, but I wasn’t overheated by any means.  I’m always well hydrated and I was well fed today, so I wasn’t dizzy for any biological reason it seemed.  Either way, it didn’t matter.  My body was beginning to make a decision for me.  I’ve passed out on more than one occasion and I was starting to see the spots.  Next up would be my ears ringing and then I would be on the floor.  I had to sit down.  So I did.  And I’m so fucking glad I did.

My dad passed away unexpectedly from a heart attack on January 24, 2022.  I got a call from one of my brothers the night before about 11:00p letting me know that he’d had a heart attack and they were taking him to the hospital.  I was unable to drive the hour to be with my dad and family because I had surgery on my right foot one week prior.  (This is hard.)  And because of that, I wasn’t able to say goodbye to my dad.  The last time I saw him was the day of my foot surgery.

Around 7:00a on January 24, 2022, my boyfriend at the time picked me up to drive me to the hospital to be with my family.  On the drive over, I got a call from my sister letting me know that dad had passed.  I overheard my boyfriend describe how I reacted to someone else once.  He said I howled like a wounded animal when that call came in.

My dad is my everything.  He taught me how to hold a flashlight and take no shits from my four older brothers and my older sister.  He’s been the one man that’s never given up on me.  Always encouraged me.  Always been there even when I fucked up.  Again… and again.  And he’s gone now.  And that fucking hurts.  Bad.

But back to the conversation with Angel.  She had started talking about messages from the other side and that was the first time I mentioned my dad.  And at his mention, she said, “He needs you to know he couldn’t have passed over if you were there.”  And I started bawling.

It’s been really hard without him.  He was the bridge between me and my mom.  She and I are very similar and we know it.  Hers and my relationship has become strained at times since.  I didn’t speak to her, or the rest of my family, for at least six months after dad’s services – once my family obligations were completed.  I didn’t want to be at the funeral and everyone knew it.  

There’s been a lot of introspection since then.  A lot of time has passed.  Some healing.  Some acceptance.  I enjoy time with my family now.  I still hate holidays, but I’m not angry that I know he’s not going to be there anymore.  And I’m not upset with myself that I couldn’t be there that day.  

I spend more time outside because he’s gone and for that, I’m grateful.  I’m trying to be more patient with myself.  I’m trying to take better care of myself.  I’m trying to do the next right thing and not be a dick.  I think he would be proud.

I don’t know what I intend the message to be with this, or if there even is one, but it’s helped me process a little more of the grief that’s inside and that’s good enough for one night.