#and i've also now gone and given myself an anxiety attack because of what i was thinking about. great

[briefcasejuice]

i don't have a continuous/relentless internal monologue in the way people usually describe it but i am always thinking about something

[leatherbookmark]

so a v fun thing about being anxious

about having potentially hurt others is that like. when i was a kid no one's really went -- fuck, yknow what, when i was a kid no one even SHOULD have gone "i'm upset because you did X" at me because i was a fucking kid. i was stupid, i didn't know shit. this didn't stop my mother from making her displeasure with whatever i've done glaringly obvious, with her loud sighs and cold silence and the handful of seconds that passed slow as molasses every time i'd say sorry and hug her, and only after those several seconds she'd hug me back, as though she was letting me know just how much i hurt her and how reluctant she was to forgive me.

(which, by the way, she passed on to me. whenever someone hugs me as an apology, i need a moment to hug them back. and it's not because i don't like physical contact, i'm touch-starved as fuck. i hate it so much.)

the fun thing about being constantly on watch for the signs of having hurt someone who's Not Willing To Even Talk About It, Because They Have Given Up, And Also, You Should Know Better, is that you can't just turn it off. i can't go "oh yeah, from now on i'll just ignore this".

and also like. my mother practices this form of emotional economics in which she neatly catalogues every little thing i do that could potentially be brought up as something that hurt her, but is blind as a mole to the signs that i am hurt. and also, it appears that i've had a resting bitch face ever since i was a baby, because whenever someone came up to me like "you seem upset", it was never "has something happened, and can we fix it", but rather "why are you being huffy, can't you see it's ruining the vibe".

and so. in result. i have no, idk, guidebook on others perceiving me and my emotional states. because the default is just being ignored or misinterpreted and attacked. and so. is this person acting like they don't notice my (in my eyes) very obvious distress just... not an expert in my body language? are they ignoring me on purpose to teach me a lesson? how do i express myself in the first place so that i appear human, and not "dramatic" and "attention-whorish"? what's the socially accepted way of being sad enough that your friends/loved ones/if apply notice and go "hey, you seem sad, wanna talk about it?", but not enough that it's obnoxious? etc, etc

on top of that my mother's side of the family loves this thing where they say something is totally fine (but it actually isn't), or do something for themselves (but actually it was all for me), which is like. not only am i not worth talking to, like, seriously, not only are people prone to hiding their discomfort from me, but also i'm somehow this kind of person that people make sacrifices for, who then doesn't appreciate them properly.

so even if i really try to switch my anxiety off and ask someone if there's something i've done, and they say no, i... can't trust them, can i. every single time people say it's fine, or are nice to me, or compliment me, how can i be sure that they're not just being nice because they're nice to everyone? or that they're forcing themselves to tolerate me, because they're good people?

logically, it seems far-fetched that everyone would just pretend to tolerate/like me while secretly hating me/harbouring grudges, but it didn't... stop... my mother....

[one-abuse-survivor]

I'm terrified of moving out.

I go through physical, emotional, and verbal abuse, but the kind that's considered normal and even encouraged in my culture. I genuinely do love my parents and I know they love me back because the abuse bits don't happen regularly and my parents have no problem in letting me go out with friends, buy me gifts, or stuff like that. The just... loose their temper sometimes.

But I'm about to be old enough to move out and they're letting me, but it still makes me scared. Because even though they're not restricting, they conditioned (i think) me into the perfect child and my interests and hobbies became acceptable to them and having anything else outside my parents' approval doesn't appeal to me. I'm pretty sheltered I guess.

So moving out to the world scares me.

Leaving my siblings alone scares me.

Finding someone else who also abuses me (like a roommate or a partner or friend) scares me.

Handling myself scares me. Because I'm still so dependent on my parents. I can barely take care of myself (exercise, brush hair, shower sometimes) daily.

Doing adult things like taxes and rent scares me. I can barely take care of myself.

I heard that trauma gets worse when you're out so going through that while living by myself scares me. I do have some friends, and they're amazing, but they won't always be there.

You totally don't have to answer, but I saw that you were accepting asks and well decided to try it out. I love everything you've been doing and you're pretty amazing for that.

Hey, nonnie. I'm really sorry you've had to go through so much. You deserved so much better than what your parents have put you through.

I really understand your fears. Living alone and becoming independent after a lifetime of child and teen abuse isn't easy, that's true. And, from personal and second-hand experience, I can confirm that in some ways, trauma does get worse for a little while after you leave an abusive situation. Basically, the moment your body realises you're safe, the first thing it tends to do is shut down all the trauma you've gone through so you can pretend it never happened and survive the immediate aftermath of it. This is scary, because it can make you question your decision of leaving, and make you feel like you made up your abuse. Then, throughout the next months, at any given time, the trauma may hit you like a truck via resurfacing memories, emotional flashbacks, nightmares, or anxiety attacks, to name a few possible PTSD symptoms. New symptoms you've never experienced before can sometimes appear during this time.

But this is the kind of situation where you have to get worse before you can get better, and once you do start to get better, life becomes so, so much easier, bearable, and enjoyable. And it's possible to get to a point where your body and mind's default setting is genuine calm, instead of anxiety, hypervigilance, or survival. The bad days can become the exception, and stop being the rule. And getting to that point is so worth it.

I know it all sounds really scary, nonnie. But I think it's also worth noting that the more you postpone the first painful steps of the process, the more you prolong your suffering.

And it's okay to do things scared. You don't have to have it all figured out just yet. You don't have to be perfect at taking care of yourself. It's okay to tackle things one at a time. It's okay to ask your friends for help when you need it. It's okay if some days all you can do is survive and leave everything else for tomorrow.

If it helps to hear, when I moved out, one of the first things I had to learn was just to feel like I was worthy of eating. And I still have trouble feeding myself on my own nowadays, but I learned to ask for help and it's now very rare for me to skip any meal. Also, I've been slowly able to figure out things like paying rent and bills, writing a CV, making a doctor's appointment, renewing legal documents, buy train tickets... One thing at a time and throughout several years! Some things I'm still figuring out or haven't even tackled yet, like taxes or driving without an adultier adult by my side. But, thanks to all my previous experiences with facing scary things and overcoming them, I know now that not feeling ready yet doesn't mean I won't be able to tackle those things when the time comes.

And that's the best part about recovery and independence! Every time you overcome something that felt impossible and terrifying, you'll build your confidence, and it'll be a little bit easier to believe that you'll be able to face the next new situation that life throws your way.

I'm rooting for you, nonnie. There's a better life waiting for you at the other side of the immediate aftermath of trauma.

Sending all my support your way ❤️

[internutter]

The good news is I recognise the cycle...

The bad news is that it's doing me very little in the way of good so...

Long post under the cut.

A little bit of greentext format for context:

> Be me > Over fifty. Body decaying around me > Shot knees. Bone spurs. Asthma. Lingering 'Rona after-effects to be determined when I discover what they are. Also hefty Autism comorbs fucking all this up > Only twenty-four hours I get custody of Beloved because current Throuple arrangement [FTR I am cool with this on normal circumstances] > My left foot locked on Fuck You Mode so walking around is not my best activity .> Staying home and doing nothing is not Beloved's best activity even when one broken arm is overloaded with hardware [Long story involving a scooter, a downhill slope, and a gravelled driveway] > Explaining Fuck You Foot(tm) results in staying in bed most of the morning [I had DM'ing at 4AM, waking up at 3AM to do that and needing a nap but also having anxiety attack as well. Yay. Not] > But did get to read chapters to Beloved which is Mutual Fun Time(also tm) > Finally time to ship Beloved off to Adorable, but agree to a lunch > Beloved has heard my Slow PLN to switch my tower's OS to Linux, and spontaneously decides to get me a present (!!!) > It's a thumb drive and an SSD, all to help with the transfer > Except now I need DETAILED INSTRUCTIONS > OncomingCloudOfDoom.gif > Have lunch, get Beloved onto the train, go home > Make my offerings for the Temple of Notes [aka, my daily tale and attempts at gaining an audience] > Some confusion when I think the thumb drive is USBC-only > Took an hour to find out it was pansexual > Properly formatted SSD (yay) > Started getting instructions on how to shift all my data and files > Clarify where the SSD is plugged in > Read at 1:25PM > Ask a question > Radio silence

So I get on with everything else and finally feel tired early in the afternoon. Woke up at about 9-ish, still dealing with that good old persistent anxiety attack feeling that's been bothering me since YESTERDAY. Hooray.

I got up and decided to put myself on the Nebuliser in case it's Just Asthma Again. This has happened to me before.

Nope.

It's 11:30PM

I know how this is going to go now. Because I have established what the pattern is. It's not going to help though.

Need hand-holding for a process that involves DETAILED INSTRUCTIONS

Ask what I think is a salient question

Receive radio silence

Do not move forward on the process until instruction is given

Get yelled at for this [NB: No actual yelling is involved, just frustration and the personal aura of personal and intense shame]

So I've gone off at my other two via our personal group chat, just accepting the inevitability of being yelled at for my flaws. Might as well get it over with, right?

But I'm still feeling a little bit like...

Because I know the people I love best are going to be disappointed in me.

I could really use a hug, but the people best for doing that are far, far away.

Cute pix of fluffy things, virtual hugs, or, if you're inclined, doodles of Blorbo From My WIP [IYKYK, if not - don't bother, it's cool] will be appreciated.

I need to get to sleep so I can be awake for a thing in about nine hours. And I could probably do with eating a food.

[dorefasolsido]

37. This past year...

who were your favorite singers, musicians, or bands?

BTS, counting all of their solo releases and projects.

what were some of your favorite foods?

Sushi, always. I also tried Korean for the first time and loved it!

what was your favorite dessert?

Chocolate souffle from my favorite sushi restaurant.

what was the best thing that happened to you?

I got a better job, got two little nieces from my cousins, got into book translating which was always my dream.

what was the worst thing that happened to you?

I mean, nothing particular comes to mind, I think I was just generally having a hard time because existential crisis and anxiety about the future and possibly a sprinkle of depression.

how have you grown as a person?

I don't feel like I've grown that much, but I feel like I managed to care a little less about what other people think.

what have you learned?

That I can get a job even with an interview. I've always despised interviews and avoided jobs that required them (lots of freelance work doesn't), but this year I kind of had to do it, and even though it was awkward as hell, it worked out somehow.

how old did you turn?

28. Ew.

what did you do for your birthday?

I was feeling especially horrible for my birthday, so I didn't really do anything. My friend was moving to Germany around that time, so she had a farewell party on my birthday and I went to that instead of celebrating.

what did you accomplish?

New job, translated a book.

where did you live?

Same place I've lived for the past 9 years.

who was your best friend?

Sam, as always.

This past year, have you….

made a new friend?

Nope. I met a few people though.

lost a friend?

Not quite, but sometimes it feels like that might inevitably come.

made a new best friend?

Nope.

lost someone close to you?

Nope.

attended a funeral?

Nope.

attended a wedding?

Nope.

gave birth to a child? 🤰

Nope.

“came out of the closet”?

Well, to myself, you could say.

traveled?

Yes, Germany, Belgium, Rome and Transylvania.

felt depressed? 😔

Yes.

felt happy? 😃

Yes.

felt at peace? 😊

I think I did a few times, though most of the year was riddled with anxiety.

felt overjoyed? 💃

Yes, and I remember the specific moment. A rare moment this year when I thought to myself that life is totally worth it.

felt blessed? 😇

Probably, here and there.

felt amazed? 🤩

For sure, when I was travelling.

fallen in love? 😍

Nope.

had your heart broken? 💔

Nope.

got a new car? 🚗

Yes! Well, not new, but my parents finally gave me and my sister their old car and got a different one.

graduated? 👩‍🎓

Nope.

experienced something miraculous? ✨

I doubt it.

had a better year than last year?

No, 2022 was definitely better.

had a worse year than last year?

Yup.

been to see the doctor? 👨‍⚕️

Actually no.

been to the hospital? 🏥

Nope.

had a severe allergic reaction? 🤧

Nope.

had COVID? 🦠

Nope, as far as I'm aware at least.

found out someone you knew had COVID? 🦠

Yeah, my dad did for a week in September. And probably a few other people too, but honestly, it's not that big of a deal anymore.

used an epi pen? 💉

Nope.

had a fever? 🥵

Nope.

had a migraine? 🧠

Nope.

gone on a date? 🌹

Nope.

written in a journal or diary? 📔

Well, I'm working on this survey blog a bit more seriously now.

given someone a hug? 🤗

Yup.

cut your hair? 💇‍♀️

Yess, I cut off most of it, now it's shortish. So much easier to deal with.

danced around your living room? 💃

Yes, ahhh I love dancing.

prayed? 🙏

Nope.

worshiped Jesus?

Nope.

read the Bible? 📖

Nope.

discovered a new favorite book? 📕

Tbh, I don't know if I read Convenience Store Woman at the beginning of this year or the end of last. So I'll say maybe.

gone to church? ⛪️

Nope.

went for a walk in the fall? 🍁

Yup.

set up and decorated a Christmas tree? 🎄

I haven't, but my mum has.

threw up? 🤮

Thank God no. Last year was traumatic enough. And by that I mean I threw up once and almost had a panic attack.

almost threw up? 🤢

No no, let's move on from this now.

discovered a new music artist you really liked? 🎤

Dreamcatcher is pretty cool.

discovered a new song you really liked? 🎶

Of course, plenty. I'll go with Like Crazy by Jimin though. Or Amygdala by Agust D.

seen snow? ⛄️

I have indeed.

seen beautiful fall foliage? 🍁

Yesss.

gone to the beach? 🏝

Yes, we went to the beach near Rome. Didn't swim though.

rode a bike? 🚴

I think I did. I wanted to do it more.

rode a horse? 🐎

Nope.

swam? 👙

Yup.

worn makeup? 💄

A tiny bit.

done a craft project?

Nope.

made a scrapbook page?

I think I did at the beginning of the year. I have to get back to that.

written an essay? 📝

Yes.

painted something? 🎨

Nope.

drawn something? ✍️

I doodled here and there. I'm terrible at it, but I love it.

sketched in a sketchbook?

Same answer.

written someone a letter? 📝

Not this year.

been to a concert? 👩‍🎤

Yup, but sadly nothing too spectacular.

driven a car? 🚘

Of course.

kayaked? 🛶

Nope.

gone on a cruise? 🚢

Nope.

made a big purchase?

Well, plane tickets and apartment booking for Rome.

moved to a new home? 🏡

Nope.

got a new pet?

Hmm, well not technically, but we kind of have another cat. She comes to our backyard every day and we feed her, so she mostly just chills there. She doesn't like being touched, though, but she's still always around. We got her neutered this year too.

lost a pet?

Nope.

gotten a tattoo?

Nope, but I'm very much thinking about it.

gotten a new piercing?

Yup, got one and changed the other one.

started a new hobby?

Kind of, I'm finally going to the gym and taking different classes there. My company is paying membership, so I had to take advantage of it.

worn a mask? 😷

Nope.

felt afraid to leave your house?

Nope.

celebrated your birthday alone?

I didn't celebrate it, alone or otherwise.

celebrated Christmas alone?

Nope, family lunch as always.

went for a long walk through the neighborhood?

Oh yeah.

Favorites of this Year (Pick one for each.)

Song:

Gah, fine, Like Crazy by Jimin.

Book:

Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata.

TV show:

The Fall of the House of Usher this year for sure.

Youtube channel:

This year I've been back into gaming and discovered the MoreAnt channel, so I've been binging his horror games and other stuff.

Food:

Sushi.

Dessert:

Chocolate souffle.

Drink:

There's this wonderfully delicious strawberries and cream soda in our new K-food supermarket. I'm absolutely obsessed with it. Fruit soju too, but I can't always drink soju.

Friend:

Sam.

Thing you did:

Went on a first proper trip with my friend group.

Place you went:

Transylvania!

Person you spend time with:

My sister, most of the time.

Thing you did for your birthday:

Went to a goodbye party to see off a friend who moved to Germany. It was a fun little picnic.

Celebrity:

BTS.

Website:

Youtube.

Emojis:

I like the teary eyed one, I'm on my laptop so can't be bothered to do it, but yes. Also the deep in thought one.

Colors:

Blue, black, purple.

Restaurant:

Moon Sushi.

Tea flavor ☕️:

Idk, been drinking a lot of mint.

Final Questions!

Would you say this past year has been a good year overall?

Well, not really. I mean, I had plenty of good moments, looking back, it's just that mentally I wasn't doing so well most of the time.

What are your goals for the new year?

Travel somewhere new, maybe try solo travelling. Read more. Write more (not just for work). Keep up with the gym stuff. Try to say yes to more opportunities. GO BACK TO LEARNING JAPANESE.

How old will you turn next year?

Why do these questions like to torture me... 29.

Did you make any big mistakes this past year?

Nothing much comes to mind.

Do you have any big changes coming?

Well, just adjusting to driving the car around a big city and paying all related expenses.

How will you be celebrating New Year’s Eve this year?

I'll be at my favorite cover band's New Year gig with my friends.

What was the best day of this year for you, and why?

I think probably 15th or 16th July. It's kinda silly, but basically, I went to a gig with my friends and we had a ridiculously good time. My friends' brother and I were making up these weird choreographies for songs, everyone seemed to have really enjoyed themselves, the energy was just awesome. Then I was walking home early in the morning as the sun was coming out and just thinking to myself how these moments are what life is all about.

What did you spend the most time doing this year?

Working, probably.

Happy New Year everyone!

[samayla]

The Morning Pages

I'm a couple of weeks into writing "The Morning Pages" - which is a couple of weeks longer than any other journaling stint I've ever attempted - and I thought I'd share a few of the things that I've learned, about myself and the practice.

For those of you who are unfamiliar, "The Morning Pages" is a journaling practice from the book "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron. It's supposed to be a creativity booster, a way to train your brain to get over roadblocks by committing to writing three pages of whatever is on your mind, every day, no matter what.

Now, a disclaimer - I have never read "The Artist's Way." There are, however, any number of excellent videos about it - and more specifically the Morning Pages themselves - on Youtube.

Onward!

★ No one will ever read my Morning Pages. Ever. I don't even reread my own writing. I flip through the pages sometimes, just to admire the pages and pages of handwritten text, but this style of journaling is not for reading, which brings me to my next point...

★ The Morning Pages are not for blow-by-blow, faithful accounts of my day. I approach my Morning Pages with one key question in mind:

Which thoughts are too heavy to carry around with me all day?

This is my brain, hauling around all kinds of junk and shoving it in my face all the time.

To be fair, I love my brain, and it's not all junk. A lot of it's pretty amazing stuff, but I don't need all of it all the time.

My life is hard enough without my brain dumping extra junk into the mix all the time. Also, I had nightmares about the Labyrinth Junk Lady as a kid. So I started writing the Morning Pages to give myself a place to put those things aside. There's a pretty little moth on the cover of my journal, and he can carry those thoughts instead. He's a tough little dude. He gets the ugly, messy, tangled thoughts I would never, ever share with anyone else. He gets those white-noise-tv-static kind of thoughts that try to eat my brain. He gets all the whining and crying and cussing and internal debates that stop me making decisions. He gets the meltdowns and the tantrums and the panic attacks, and he also gets those hyper-elated-bubblegum-in-my-hair kind of happy thoughts that are great, until they get in the way. He holds onto them for me, so I can let them go. They're not gone, just set aside in a safe place, in case I need them later, and that relieves so much anxiety for me.

★ Sometimes I don't have any thoughts like that to unload. I write my shopping list instead. I scribble down the song lyrics that are currently stuck on repeat. I ask dumb questions - like is the French Tuck named after Tan France, or does he just like it because it sounds like it could be? I draw stars or flowers or zigzag lines that mean nothing at all. I write in huge letters that take up three rows each. Flipping back through, those days make me smile.

★ Sometimes I just stop early, before hitting that magical three page mark. Despite all the videos saying it's basically three pages or die, I have not died yet. This shouldn't be a torture device, nor should it get in the way of real life. I didn't write at all the past two days, and guys? The world did not end. My migraines mean there are days when I have aphasia and can't make words happen, or my fine motor skills are trash and writing my own name feels like trying to dig out the Bread Basket in a high stakes game of Operation. I don't write much on those days because it frustrates me - but I could, because no one ever has to be able to read it, but I don't have to, and that makes me powerful. Sometimes my day launches before I'm even out of bed, and there's just no slowing down until my head hits the pillow that night. I don't write on those days either, because it would be just one more thing on a day that needs less things in it already.

★ I need a bit of a ritual to get my brain into Morning Pages mode because there are mornings when my brain just doesn't want to do it, for no very good reason at all. By having every session start with the same couple of steps, I don't have to think too hard to get started. Every entry starts with a little star at the top of the page. This started as a quick way to make sure my pen was working properly, but it makes me happy, so I've kept on, even though I have a really nice pen at the moment. Then I open the writing session with the date and "Good Morning!" - even if I've put off writing until later in the day. The greeting gets one whole line to itself, so I'm already making progress toward that three-page goal. Whenever I'm done, another little star goes at the bottom of the last page, just to close the session and help my brain switch gears again.

★★★So what has this done for me?★★★

I've caught myself thinking things like, "Oh, man. This would be a perfect topic for my Morning Pages. I should save it for that." But then, more often than not, just knowing I could write it in there is enough for me to let it go, right then and there, without any conscious effort. I get to my next set of Morning Pages, and I find myself writing about something completely different. My priorities are free to shift like that now. Instead of stewing over things, I can put them aside, and later on, with a little perspective, I discover that some of those things weren't all that important anyway.

I feel lighter and more in control. I think Intentional is the word. I feel like I'm here on purpose, doing things on purpose. I'm getting better at noticing which things are worth worrying about, and when I feel overwhelmed, I am better able to see my way clear of it.

I feel less pressure to be perfect in my other writings. "Just getting the words out" is easier in the Morning Pages, because I know no one will ever read them, and that's made me realize no one else will ever read the early drafts of my other writings either. I switch up my handwriting in my journal all the time. Some days it's chicken scratch. Others, it's perfect cursive. Or all caps. Whatever I feel like. And for someone who is embarrassingly concerned about the aesthetic of whatever I'm writing, that has been massively liberating. I started a writing journal for Magpie Grace recently as well, and a few pages in, I discovered that I preferred writing in it in all caps. In the past, I might have started over so the whole thing is in all caps, or given it up entirely as "ruined," but now, some is in caps, some is in cursive. No big deal.

[samtheflamingomain]

25.21%

I've been sober for 3 months today. 92 days. 25.21% of 2021.

I could've posted more updates, more milestones (it took a LOT not to post on Day 69) but I wanted to kind of save it up for a Big Day. It was also a decent way to continue to incentivize my continued sobriety: a full pass to do a shameless, hardcore bragging sesh.

Anyway, this post comes in 2 parts: the TL;DR for those who only want the gist, then more in depth on my ability to stay sober, the lasting effects of rehab, etc.

I tried my damnedest to pare this absolute novel down, but it's long, so feel free to dip out if you just get bored. Onward!

TL;DR: I went to rehab the beginning of July for 3 weeks and haven't had a drop of alcohol since. I've lost weight, I'm more healthy, my daily anxiety level went from 8 to 2, I haven't had an anxiety attack in 3 months, and everything generally just seems... easier. My memory and concentration have improved. I've been productive and I've been meditating every day. I'm saving money, and while I sometimes fantasize about getting drunk, that's usually all it is.

Honestly, it's been much easier than I expected, but I think a lot of that is because for the first 3 weeks, the time in which I would usually break down and start drinking again when trying to get sober myself, was spent behind a locked door. So far I haven't had any days where I was close to giving in. I haven't had many days where I've been depressed about it, missing it or really tempted. Maybe 3-4. I've basically just gotten on with my life as if alcohol doesn't exist.

To wrap up the short version for those ready to peace out, I'll leave it with a bit of advice.

I don't feel qualified to give any specific advice, because my story feels very unique to me, and I honestly don't think what worked for me will work for MOST people. Sometimes people spend a year in rehab and still drive straight to the liquor store on their way home.

That said, there's one thing that I've found pretty universally true: you have to really want it. For a while, I floated about without much of a "reason" to stay sober. I don't have a spouse, kids or a job I've been fired from, so I didn't see the point.

It's taken me a while, but after not being "convinced" by a few superficial "reasons" like weight loss and saving money, I thought I needed something more... permanent? Consequential? I now realize that my "reason" for getting sober at a young age after only a few years of alcoholism is that I don't want it to get to a point where I'm hurting other people, drinking myself into multiple lasting health problems... I don't want it to become permanent or consequential.

Anyway, that's my two cents. If you do have something like kids or trouble keeping a job, definitely use that as your reason. But for anyone who's a pretty "functional" alcoholic like I was, "not letting it go on long enough to become disfunctional" is a good enough reason.

This is going to get stupid long, so feel free to walk away now, just glad you read this much and it really does mean the world when people listen to what I have to say.

Now some more things in depth. I'll go in chronological order: what made me get sober, what I took from rehab (and what I left), and how it's been the past few months.

I started drinking when I got kicked out, manic out of my mind and homeless unable to sleep. It took a while until I was able to sleep without alcohol, but by then the addict brain had taken over. I'd tried a few times to get sober myself, but I never made it more than a week without, and always got back to daily drinking after a few months maximum.

Some people need a "wake up call", a "last straw" or a "rock bottom". Something external to make them realize they can't go on as they are. For me, the catalyst was my health, which is more of an internal reason I suppose. I didn't have a heart attack or liver failure, but my anxiety was getting uncontrollable and I knew it was directly tied to my drinking.

My life had been starting to feel tolerable, and I was more financially secure than ever before. Things were looking up... except for the alcoholism. This is a weird analogy but the only one that makes sense to express why, if I was doing so well on paper, I decided to go to rehab: you have to sweep before you mop. If I hadn't been in the place I was, I don't think I would've been successful at rehab. I had to sweep up the cat turds from the floor of my life before I was able to mop up the shit stains with sobriety. I know, I'm a true wordsmith.

When I finally called the hotline that hooked me up with a bunch of different rehabs, I knew I was in for a wait. It was about 5 months from that call to checking in, which isn't too bad considering I've been on the waitlist for a neuropsychiatrist in ALL OF CANADA for 4 years.

That brings us to July 12th, Rehab Day One. I've gone in depth in multiple other posts but to touch on it briefly, if I had to describe my experience in a sentence I'd say "the place I went to got very lucky with me".

What this means is that, of the 5 people in my group, I think this exact program was only ever going to help me. At the same time, I didn't even know what I would need, but this exact program was 90% of it. I didn't think 3 weeks would be long enough, but for me it was. The hours-long, repetitive, basic-ass CBT groups held 5 times a day 7 days a week was absolute torture for everyone but myself. While it was a drag to spend an hour on defining what a cognitive distortion is, the routine and repetition, something I've never gotten out of any outpatient program, helped me to really absorb the information and let it rewire my brain.

I've always said that I'm someone who should be spending an hour a day with a therapist for the rest of my life, and while that's not even remotely feasible, this was as close as it's ever gotten, and it proved me right, because it worked. I've done biweekly therapy for a short time but even that didn't come close to the way my brain changed in those 3 short weeks.

This program required absolute commitment and open-mindedness. This isn't because it was hard work or difficult concepts, but quite the opposite. While I hate the entire concept of art therapy being used as a cure-all for mental illness, I willingly got out of my bed, went downstairs and tried doing a dot mandala for an hour because I'm willing to try anything to get better. A lot of people might think they are, but really aren't. To use the mandala as an example, one guy was really into it, I wasn't, but we both finished. The other 3 tried, messed up a few times, and then scrolled through their phones. When I say this program necessitates complete engagement, that's not a compliment. It shouldn't be a chore to engage with the program. It shouldn't take me actively saying "I know I've known this basic concept since 4th grade, but maybe hearing it again will help" to get something out of a rehab program. So again, in every way, I got lucky, and so did they.

Before I finish with the rehab section, having had a few months to reflect on the whole thing, I now have an endless list of things wrong with it. I arrived, greeted by the most jaded and disillusioned of staff, and quickly became disturbed and at points concerned with just how negligent the staff are.

Maybe it's because I've been on the psych ward where they won't even let you have shoelaces and shine a flashlight on your face every half hour through the night, but it could've been so incredibly easy to sneak in alcohol. I brought 2 full water bottles, fully expecting to have to dump them out upon arrival, but they said "nah it's fine". Is it though?

Then there were actual counsellors there who were... okay. I recall one, the one I thought was the smartest, reading a handout aloud and coming across the word "delve" as in "let's delve into..." and stumbled, then said she doesn't know that word. The room was silent. As she pulled up Google on the screen I said, "it means to dive into it". She Googled it anyway. Synonyms include "dive in". If that was the only example I wouldn't mention it, but this was the first of at least 10 words she had do Google, none past a 10th grade level, from HER OWN MATERIAL. From that point on it became clear that they had no fucking idea what they were doing.

We had one last one-on-one counselling session before we left and the counsellor just filled in boxes to questions on her computer, rephrasing everything I said to fit into the buzzwords and "lessons" we'd "learned". Example. Me: I do think I'm better able to catch myself thinking 'oh I can just have one drink' and say 'no I can't'." Her: "Okay, so would you say that you can recognize negative cognitive distortions like permission-giving thoughts and counter them with a more rational and less emotional mind?" Like girl, blink twice if your boss is holding your family hostage. She gave me some papers, detailing all the online courses they were signing me up for and options for more treatment they'd be sending me, a phone number to call and a phone appointment for the next Monday. I never got that call, the phone number is a hotline, I never got a single email from them, and given how shitty they really are at their jobs, I didn't feel the inclination to try and get those resources. If they even exist in the first place.

In summation, it was a place where it was physically impossible to get alcohol. That's really all I can say in its favor. Oh, and they let you have your cell phone.

Now on our timeline I'm back home. I want to kind of analyze why it's been easy for me.

I often said that my main goal of going to rehab was to lock me away from alcohol long enough for it to reset my brain. Most people thought that was naïve, but that's exactly what happened. But I'm well aware that my experience of "instantly became sober and literally hasn't had a single hard day in 3 months" is absurdly unusual.

I put this down to a few things. Firstly, I'm on seven different meds for my mental health. Almost all of them have their effects dulled or even eliminated when you drink. So when I noticed my mood, fatigue, memory, concentration etc all getting better at once - right about as I left rehab, I don't think it would be a stretch to say that all those meds started working properly.

Secondly, I've been keeping myself busy, but that's something I've always been good at. Now I specifically choose to undertake projects that will eat up a lot my time and put me in a state of flow. I recently made an entire card game from scratch, and let me tell you, I didn't think of alcohol for a week.

Thirdly, my other goals now get in the way of alcohol. I'm getting old and my body is deteriorating. But I've always wanted to do just one last season of gymnastics. Well, I need to lose weight for that to happen. I've already lost 35 pounds, and after another 20 I'll be ready to go. Also, I used to spend more on alcohol per month than rent. Even though I've done a few shopping sprees lately, I haven't come remotely close to how much I was spending before.

I want it more than anything. I want to be sober more than I want one night of "fun" that will more likely than not lead me back to where I was a year ago. I never want to need anything as much as I needed alcohol.

Lastly, just a few more random thoughts.

A lot of people, myself included, worried about the fact that I work at a bar as a cook, but honestly the entire time I'm there I'm thinking about food, not alcohol. If I'm hanging out with some regulars before/after, I can watch them drink and be perfectly fine with my coffee, because the coffee is $2, and I used to spend $20 after every work shift.

I also decided in rehab to start taking better care of myself as best I could. This started with getting my second vax which I'd been putting off, then an eye appointment, then new glasses, then a dentist appointment where I was informed I need to do $3000 worth of work on my implant that's erroding my bone matter, so that sucks, but I caught it early. I've also been meditating every day. In just 3 months, I've made pretty big improvements to my self-care and my daily routine.

One of my fears about sobriety was "missing out" on "having fun". A few days ago, all my housemates got together to play Mario Party, and it was kind of my first night doing something social while sober. It was a breath of fresh air - I wasn't constantly running to piss, I didn't worry about running out of alcohol, I didn't get sloppy and obnoxious as I can sometimes do. I even came very very close to winning my first game of MP. When I reflected on the night, I realized that, if I'd been getting drunk the whole time, I would've sucked at the minigames, been a hindrance to anyone unfortunate enough to be teamed with me, and likely would've stopped caring about the game itself after the first few turns.

Yesterday I was making my 4th pot of coffee of the day when I realized there was a full glass of wine just sitting on the counter. I had absolutely no idea where the hell it came from - nobody in my house drinks wine. I shrugged and poured that sweet sweet bean juice. It was only when I sat down and took a sip of coffee did I find myself thinking automatically, "this tastes so much better than wine". I only realized then that it had been rose wine, the only kind I've ever been able to tolerate. It was the ultimate moment of possible temptation, and the thought of just chugging that glass - as I may've done in the past - didn't even cross my mind.

I'm so glad to be where I am. I'm about to undergo some serious financial changes - i.e. going absolutely broke - but drinking isn't gonna help that, so I'm cautiously optimistic.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

[fatpingu]

My Secret Guardian

Chapter one - The band T-shirt

Warning: Explicit language, depression and anxiety 

"Are you okay?"

Those words didn't mean anything anymore. They all lied to me. They asked me the same question every day, but they didn't care about my answer anymore. It's okay tho. I lied too with a simple "yes."

I had felt wretched for several years, and I guess my coworkers had noticed it. Nobody tried to actually find out what was wrong with me. They only asked if I was okay, and then patted themselves on the back for being a good samaritan. I didn't blame them for not caring, I probably wouldn't have either. All I did was sit at my desk looking like I was tired of living. Which i was. I did the same thing every day. I woke up at 6 am, got to work at 7:30 am, ate lunch at 12:45 pm, got home at 5 pm, ate dinner at 6:30 pm and went to bed at 9 pm. And to spice things up, I sometimes had mental breakdowns incorporated into my routine.

About two years ago, I had my first panic attack and I couldn't stop crying. I was at a conference and stood in line for lunch. Suddenly I felt everybody staring at me. I was really insecure about my body and feeling all those eyes on me while I was getting food. No thank you. I could feel them judging me with their eyes. Judging how much food was on my plate. I hurried out of the room and went to the hall. Then it started.

My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. I couldn't stop shaking or crying. My body got all heavy and it felt like I was going to die. Since that day, my mood has been severely decreased.

Nobody helped me back then either. Except for one guy. I vaguely remembered him, but I knew he helped me.

I had trouble standing and was kind of stumbling around. He guided me over to a chair so I could sit down. I didn't really look at his face. I just stared at his hands in mine while he talked to me. I know he tried to help, but I didn't really listen to anything he said.

I did however notice a tattoo on his left hand. A very small one. I couldn't really see what it was. It was probably pretty old and faded. For some strange reason, that tattoo helped me with my breathing. I stopped thinking about my panic and started to focus on what in the world that tattoo was supposed to look like. But before I could look properly at the guy, he was called into a meeting.

I left the conference after that. There was no way in hell that I would've willingly walked back to all those people, while my eyes were red and my cheeks stained from my makeup.

"Have you heard about Sarah?" I overheard my coworker ask another. She probably didn't know I was in one of the bathroom stalls.

Sarah was my boss who had been sick on and off for the last 6 months. We had an... Okay relationship. She was the only person I liked at my job and I was one of the few she didn't hate.

"They fired her."

I could feel my heart clench. My hope for Sarah to come back to work was the only thing that kept me there. I hated my job when Sarah wasn't there. She was the only one who actually generally cared when she asked me if I was okay. I would still lie and say yes, but her concern made me.. Kind of happy.

My coworkers left the bathroom while still talking about Sarah. I didn't feel like leaving the stall yet. I could feel the tears rolling down my cheeks.

Throughout the 5 years I had worked at the firm, I had gone through multiple bosses. Sarah was my second boss, but got transferred to another city. Two years later, she came back and became my boss again.

That's it! I thought to myself. If Sarah isn't coming back, I'm quitting. I was sick and tired of that shitty job and being around those fake people.

I wiped my tears away and walked out of the stall. This was the time. I was going back to my desk and I was going to write my notice.

I walked out of the bathroom and headed straight to my desk, not noticing that someone was talking to me. A hand grabbed my shoulder and I froze. That grab had scared the living shit out of me, but I tried not to show it.

"Uhm.. excuse me? I didn't mean to scare you, but do you know where Sarah Holland's office is?" a deep voice asked me.

I turned around to see a man dressed in some denim jeans, a purple band T-shirt and holding a backpack in front of him. He definitely didn't know the dress code.

"She isn't here right now. She is on sick leave," I told him while still looking at his clothes. If he was trying to get a job here, he definitely chose the wrong outfit.

"Oh i know.." He mumbled quietly. "I'm her substitute." I stopped scanning him for a second and looked at his face for the first time since we started the conversation. He was older than I expected. He had an awkward smile on his face, but it was very welcoming. He also had the darkest eyes I had ever seen in my entire life.

"I'm Alexander by the way," he said and fumbled to get one of his hands away from his backpack without dropping it. I reached for his hand and shook it.

"Her office is over at the left door," I told him and pointed to Sarah's office. He thanked me and walked to the direction I had given him.

You know.. Those jeans do look good on him I thought to myself while my eyes scanned the backside of him. It's a damn shame that attire isn't suited here.

The next day came around and as always my shift started at 7:30 am.

I walked over to my desk, sat down and turned on my computer. The laptops at this firm always took forever to start up. While I was staring at my computer, waiting for it to accept my login, I heard some loud noises coming from Sarah's office.

I went over to the door and placed my ear near it so I could hear what was going on. I had only been standing there for about 10 seconds before the door flung up, making me jump back in shock.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to snoop around! I just heard-" I stopped myself from further embarrassment.

"Oh it's okay! You probably heard me dropping my laptop," Alexander answered, probably as embarrassed as myself. I stretched my neck to the side to look into the office. As I saw the broken laptop on the floor I could confirm that it was indeed that that had made the noise. Jesus Christ I thought to myself as I looked back at him with eyes wide open. I could tell that it was an expensive laptop.

"First real day at the job and I've already broken the inventory," he nervously laughed.

There was no need to make things worse, so I offered him mine. My job position didn't really need a laptop, it just made it a hell of a lot easier. He accepted the offer, took my laptop and went back into Sarah's office.

I sat back down at my desk and started to write customer orders down by hand. It took me about 30 minutes to write down 11 orders.

Why did I lend him my computer? This fucking sucks! I thought to myself as I scribbled down another order.

My hand started to cramp from writing nonstop. I wasn't really used to using a pen instead of a keyboard. Hopefully the people who were going to read this could translate that scrawl.

Lunchtime rolled around, and I had managed to write down half of the day's order and give myself arthritis.

I walked into the lunchroom, grabbed my oatmeal and sat down at the empty table. I had been so tired the day before that I didn't really feel like making a proper lunch.

"What a healthy lunch!" a deep voice suddenly exclaimed. I looked up from my food and saw Alexander standing at the other side of the table, holding a store bought sandwich.

"Do you mind if i sit here?" Words I haven't heard in a long time. No one ever wanted to sit and have lunch with me. To be fair, I wasn't really that fun to have lunch with. Other than the fact that I hated my coworkers, I didn't really have a lot in common with them to hold a proper conversation.

"Go ahead" I almost whispered. There was a good solid 10 minutes where neither of us were talking. He was probably just as awkward as me.

"Thank you for letting me borrow your laptop. That was really nice of you," he smiled as he took a bite of his sandwich.

"No problem," I quietly nodded. It was clear that neither of us was used to small talk.

The majority of my colleagues had left the room. Probably to go out to smoke or to pee. The ones that were left had their own quiet conversation by themselves.

My mind started to wander as I discreetly tried to look at Alexander without him noticing. He definitely wasn't my age. I shot him to be around 15 years older than me. He had brown curly hair that clearly didn't want to cooperate. His beard was hardly a beard. It was very patchy. My eyes trailed down to his shirt. A band T-shirt yet again, but not the same as the one from the day before. He must have noticed my confused eyes, because he suddenly stopped eating and looked down.

"Do you like my shirt?" He smiled, looking very proud of himself. My eyes glanced up to meet his. To be honest, I did. It was a yellow AC/DC shirt with a canon on it. Above the canon there was written "For those about to rock." I couldn't help but to crack a smile. His smile was so contagious.

"Yeah it's pretty cool," i smirked, letting my guard down. But it came up again pretty quickly. "But just so you know, that type of clothes isn't very professional and if you want to work here, you have to put some effort into your outfit!" I hissed.

His smile faded a bit and he looked down at his food again. It wasn't the first time i had snapped at one of my coworkers, but it was the first time i felt bad afterwards.

I looked regretful down at the table, wanting to be anywhere else but there. He started to fumble with his sandwich and my eyes followed his hands.

He had strong hands and what looked like a birthmark on the left. He had his nails painted black. Well.. the majority of the nail polish was chipped. It wasn't really a bad look in my opinion. I liked it when men didn't care about gender norms and did what they wanted to. Lucky for him, the company dress code didn't say anything about nail polish, so he could continue to wear it. He just needed it freshened up.

There was such a thick awkward silence in the lunchroom, that you could practically hear the lightbulbs.

The rest of my colleagues had left, and it was only me and Alexander that was still sitting in the room.

Why was I such an asshole to him? He had been nothing but nice to me. I wanted to apologize so bad, but I was too used to self sabotaging, that all I could do was stay quiet.

Alexander finished his sandwich. God he was a slow eater. "I don't really have anything nicer to wear," he almost mumbled. I looked up at him, trying my hardest to stop frowning.

"How come? Aren't you like 40?" Those words sounded so much meaner than I anticipated, but they had already left my lips before I noticed. He smiled at me, clearly without taking any offense to my words.

"Ah yes.. A man of my age should be able to doll oneself up," he joked. I couldn't help but to laugh. It was just so unexpected since I basically mocked his age.

His smile widened and he seemed generally happy by my response. "But in all seriousness, I haven't really been needing a suit. That's why I don't have one," he smirked. "And yes, I'm 42 years old, but I don't look older than 68." I rolled my eyes at him. That was just such a dad joke.

And speaking of dad, I wondered if he was one. To be fair, he had the age for it. Before my mind drove completely off, my phone buzzed, indicating that my lunch break was over.

When I came back to my desk, I had gained some movement back in my wrist, but each time I tried to write something, the pen felt fifty times heavier.

It didn't really help that I couldn't concentrate either. Did Alexander hate me now? It actually felt like he wanted to be friends and I was just being such a cunt to him. Would it have killed me to complement his shirt? I really liked it and it would have cost me nothing to just say that when he asked. And why did I even care about his outfit? He could do what he wanted, I wasn't his boss. On the contrary, he was mine. Well for now at least. I had already sent my notice to the headquarters, so i would be gone in two weeks anyways. Why did I even care if he hated me or not? I knew my other coworkers didn't like me, and I didn't care. But why do I care now?

"Hey! How is it going with the orders?" a baritone voice almost yelled, making me jump in my chair.

"Jesus Christ! You don't have to give me a heart attack!" I barked, looking up to see Alexander. He was smiling at me, even though I had yelled at him for what felt like the 100th time that day. He looked down at my paper to see what probably looked like hieroglyphs. He narrowed his brows and looked back at me.

"Are you okay?" he asked. My heart sank a little. I could feel the concern in his voice, even though he was only asking because of my horrendous handwriting.

I took a breath, trying hard not to be an asshole again or to lie for that matter.

"No. My wrist hurts like hell," I answered while shaking my head.

"Why didn't you just tell me? I'll go get your laptop!" He walked away so quickly, that I didn't get to say anything else.

Stop being so fucking nice to me, i thought to myself. In what felt like a split second, he had returned with my laptop.

"You idiot, now you won't have anything to use," I sighed.

"I don't want you to hurt," he said calmly.

Well that's too fucking late.

"I already ordered a new one that will be here tomorrow, so it doesn't matter if i miss 3 hours of work. I can catch up with it tomorrow."

I stared at the laptop, then back at him, then back at the laptop. I hated that he was being so nice to me.

"Well.. I better get to work then," I said as I started typing on the keyboard. He didn't leave my desk. I could almost feel his eyes burn into the side of my face.

Was he waiting for a thank you? It was my computer that he gave back to me. I didn't need to thank him. Did I?

My head turned and I looked up at him. My eyes meet his. Those eyes were like black holes. They were so dark, that you couldn't distinguish the pupils from the iris, and they sucked you in like real black holes.

He smiled at me and started to walk towards his office. "Call if you need me," he shouted as he closed the office door.

Fuck my life. I could feel my coworkers looking at me. I hated unwanted attention more than anything. Why the hell did he need to shout? The traffic warden down the street probably heard him.

I looked around the room to catch the people who were daring enough to stare at me. It didn't seem like it, but I knew some of them had definitely gawked in my direction. I hated it so much.

It was so anxiety inducing. My hands began to shake and I could feel the cold sweat starting to form. It was the event at the conference all over again.

Before my thoughts had a chance at eating me up from the inside, a sound came from my computer. It was an email.

That dumbass forgot to turn off the sound after he borrowed it. It was so freaking loud, that it almost scared me.

I tried to calm myself with some deep breaths, before opening the email. It was a link to a YouTube clip from Alexander.

He gave me back my laptop so he could sit and watch YouTube on his phone? What a boss indeed.

I kind of didn't want to watch it, but I was also really curious. I put on my headphones and started the video. It was an old video of Paul Hunt doing gymnastics while dressed as a little girl.

It was probably one of the funniest things I had ever seen. It was so hard, trying not to laugh out loud. It was almost like he knew I needed a distraction from what was going on.

I looked behind me at the door to his office. Closed. It must have been a coincidence then.

5 pm rolled around, and it was time to head back home.

After I got my laptop back, the customer orders almost wrote themselves.

My colleagues had already left the building, but I was a little bit behind schedule, so I stayed a little longer. I kind of enjoyed the silence.

I could work in peace without the usual distractions. There was always the casual gossiping, the sound of long nails clacking on a keyboard or my personal favorite, the fake ass laugh when someone tried to convince a future customer over the phone. God I hated that job.

"Are you ready to go home for the day?" I looked behind me in surprise. I had been 100% sure that I was the last one left. I guess not. A thing that I had noticed about Alexander, was that he was really good at sneaking up on me.

"Yeah, but why are you still here?" I asked curiously while packing up my stuff.

"I wanted to make sure you got to your car safe," he replied.

My car was literally parked 30 feet away from the entrance, so there was no need to worry about my safety. Sure, there had been times where my tires had been slashed and i had to call a cab, but that was probably just some teenagers thinking it was funny.

I turned off the lights and walked out of the building with Alexander right behind me.

"You don't need to walk me to my car. I'm not a child," i insisted. He looked over at my car and giggled. "Well tough luck, 'cus it's parked right beside mine."

We walked over to our cars, but he didn't get into his before I started to pull out of the booth.

What was he so worried about? And why did he even care? He is so fucking weird, I thought to myself as i drove home.

I picked up a pizza on the way home. After destroying my wrist for five hours, pizza was definitely the thing I needed.

The rest of the evening was spent on devouring a whole pizza, half a bottle of wine and some stale cookies. I had only eaten two portions of oatmeal the entire day, so it was safe to say that I was indeed starving. The wine was just a bonus.

After i was done eating i looked through YouTube to find something to fall asleep to. It had become this weird habit. Such a big habit even, that I literally couldn't fall asleep unless there was some background noise.

I looked at the recommended selection and found the perfect one. Another Paul Hunt video.

Damn, even at home he's still  helping me, I chuckled for myself. I pressed play and snuggled up under my blanket.

"Paulette Huntanova is back. Dazzled the crowd at two previous.."

Chapter two