Let’s add a nice phlegmy cold to the shingles and see how it changes the numbers. I don’t know why I thought my recovery from these blasted shingles would be linear. I adore linear for about 75% of my world and the above graph for the other 25%. Since I like to control things, I’d like to choose the 25%.
But I started feeling better! I chopped wood! I tried going back to work and then found a great excuse to quickly get the hell out of there. I got so frustrated that I actually did the math to calculate how long till my retirement. Spoiler alert: it is not close.
I know that I will do myself no good if I stress about recovery or missing work or working from home or my participation level at home or how well I am performing as a mother or looking towards upcoming events.
I was just thinking this morning, how can I wrangle my boobs for Transformations so I am comfortable and still look nice. I want to make a big deal of this last Transformations but anything more than a T-Shirt is painful and, at best, very uncomfortable without a bra. I also tried a bra on Monday and it was a hard pass. Gen Xers don’t freeball.
The very last Transformations is coming up this weekend. We have the moon and I want to take her out and show her a lovely Lawrence, KS evening. I want to do makeup and all that girly stuff that she loves. I have pictures of me in jeans and a hoodie as well as a nice dress from past Transformations.
It all just makes me tired and anxious. I hate anxiety! I’m sure anxiety loves that.
It feels like I have been sick forever. I added a cold to this ball of awesome this past weekend. What is my body trying to tell me? How can I better serve myself? What is it that I need in this moment? Use your training, Holly.
A quick google search on recovering from shingles only tells me to steer clear of people as long as I have open wounds. I have not had open wounds for a month. I still cannot move without pain, cannot wear my trusty over the shoulder bolder holder, and don’t know if I am supposed to ignore the pain and press on or rest. I am frustrated. I am tired. I am grumpy and worn down. And I am sick of all those things as well.
The new routine with the moon lends itself to less down time. I am so grateful to my person who has been taking art classes and exercise classes and generally doing her own thing. She has been taking care of her while shingles and joint custody have taken my time. It’s very inspiring to watch. I am so grateful that we have built this life together. It is, and I pray it will always be, the backbone. If my recovery is my foundation, then this life with my person is the ground level, the cornerstone.
Thanks to all who continue to show up in physical life, digital life, spiritual life, and mental and emotional life. I dig you all. Love, Holly.
Author’s note: this is the latest communication I am sending to a friend. I am putting a digital stamp on this one because I think she will be tickled to be contributing to this blog.
Double note: THIS DOES NOT WORK IF YOUR ONLY COMMUNICATIONS ARE TEXT. Get out your pencil and a stamp.
I am a little old school when it comes to formal communication. Let’s put it this way, last year, I ordered something like 500 or 1000 thank you cards in bulk from Amazon. You get the idea. It’s not the damn card, it’s what is inside.
Dear Goddess,
Thank you for your latest communication. This may or may not have been your intent, but I could not get the glitter off my fingers for the rest of the day after reading your card. It was beautiful.
It was nothing compared to your words. Why are you so good to me? You know I love that support and I pray that I give it as good as I get it. I’m so glad you love the blog. I am thrilled to make it a part of my new morning routine. Almost one month in, and I feel like I am more in touch with myself. Luckily, I love writing, so the outcomes were not planned, as it should be. It’s been fun just to see where this goes. No destination, just the journey.
If I haven’t already, I’d like also thank you for the Christmas card. It gives me such joy to see you and your person’s joyful faces on our Christmas card wall. We put all the cards up over the walkway from our kitchen to our front room, so I see your joy every day. One new thing that we did this year was put our own Christmas card on the wall. It’s such a great reminder to love myself with all the others who send their love.
I also want to thank you for the wedding present. How did you even find the registry? Ang and I were just figuring out how to put one together at the request of another guest that can’t attend, and here comes this giant box on our porch. We were baffled for several moments. It added extra joy to the gift itself.
We opened it with Isabella and placed it in her room for the time being. She has been using the mirror that goes with the dresser in her room which is currently on the floor. I can’t find the darn hardware for it! And who wouldn’t love a full length mirror in their room but a stylish 7 year old? I watched her fix her hair in it Tuesday morning before school. Such precision.
I am so grateful for our friendship. It feels like it continues to grow despite our physical distance. Speaking of growing, thank you for continuously sharing your journey with me. It has been an absolute pleasure to watch you grow and flourish. I follow you on the social media as well. I cannot tell you the joy it brings me to see you so happy.
What I know is that, like so many of us, this has taken work. Not only have you put in the work, but you have been open and honest about it, and shared what worked for you. I have been privy to the lengths you have gone to find yourself. I know from experience that you didn’t find the love of your life until you found the love of your life in yourself. Sometimes I wonder if people who have not experienced lows like us really know what the highs feel like.
Anyway, thanks for being a part of this morning and unknowingly contributing to this blog. If I know you, I think you will be tickled. I shall close and continue with my morning routine. I am finishing “Quit like a woman.” The book that you gave me last year, “How to do the Work,” is actually going to get read with this new routine. I’ll let you know how it contributes to my life, since it helped you.
Thank you for everything. Thank you for being you. I love you.
I’m sitting here staring at the Honey-eyed Noodle Boy. He’s just checking me out before he settles down in his big fluffy bed by the fire. Does he need anything?
Handsome Honey-eyed Noodle Boy.
Dogs (and cats for that matter) instinctively take care of their own needs. They drink when they are thirsty and poop when they need to poop. But what if I forgot to fill the water bowl? Badger wouldn’t tell me. I don’t think he would go to the water bowl and start pushing it around. I mean I don’t really know because I don’t think the water bowl has ever been empty. But if it were, and for a significant time, he could die.
Dial it down a bit from needs to wants. Do you think he gets frustrated that he can’t tell me that he doesn’t get walked enough. “Mom, I would really appreciate it if you changed your routine a little and took me for a short walk every day. Even a short walk would be so awesome. It would really contribute to the quality of my life.”
Or, “I favor the rope toys. They make the day so interesting trying to untie those knots.”
Or, “Like if it isn’t too much trouble, that one bone you got that one time, oh I loved that. I chewed on it for hours while you worked.”
Or “I’d rather stay inside if it’s below 50 degrees. I can’t get warm if the sun isn’t out.”
How do we know what they need? How do they tell us? Does he get bored as shit when we leave him in the kennel for 4 or 8 hours? Is that tortuous for him or does he just chill?
Badger is such a good boy that he just does what we tell him. If I say, kennel up, he does it. He doesn’t throw a fit or whine. I know that he doesn’t like sirens, he loves chasing squirrels, he loves it when I come outside and chase him around threatening to steal his toy. I like to think we bring each other joy.
Playtime in the yard.
He is very affectionate but also good with boundaries. He does not lick mine or Angie’s faces but he will lick a face if you let him. He stops every morning when I let him out of the kennel for a hug and some pets before he goes to the door for his morning pee.
He is very receptive to “good boy” and “bad dog.” It’s hilarious. He does naughty things at times, like eat the cat food or get on the front room couch when we are gone, or dig holes in the yard. But if you show him the cat food dish or the hole and ask him, “What did you do? Or “What is this?,” he will cower and walk away while still eyeing you for the okay that he’s not in trouble any more. We never yell. We speak to him in a normal voice when asking him not to bark or “What is this hole in the yard?”
He’s innocent, ornery, smart, and a moron all at the same beautiful time. He’s my boy.
Bella, “I wonder if I have kissed Badger more than you have kissed Angie.”
He only poops in the edges of the yard where we don’t walk. He has never pooped or peed in the house. He has anxiety when we leave him at other people’s houses. Or even if he has to stay outside at a house that we are at. Maybe separation anxiety or fear of being left behind? We got him when he was about a year. I am not sure what he went through in that first year nor the impression levels of dogs in infancy or adolescence.
He does not bark. Hardly at all. If he does bark, he stops when you say, no bark. The only exception being if there is a possum in the yard. He doesn’t bark when the doorbell rings or someone new comes to the house. He is shy when he meets a new person, especially men, especially with hats on.
Wrapped up by Bella at Christmas.
He is higher maintenance than Sam by far. He has bigger feels than Sam. Sam is fine just fine on his own for days at a time. Sam usually comes for affection at least once or twice a day, Badger could have it constantly. He’s usually underfoot following one of us around. He goes nuts when one of his favorite people arrive, like Bella or Atticus. But his version of nuts is wagging his tail right off and squirming to get close when Bella is trying to take off her coat.
Therapy cat.
Sam all out yells at you if his food bowl goes empty but Badger eats twice a day and never goes to his food bowl to ask for food or anything like that. He will take a treat or food scraps at any given moment though. 4
It is no secret that I am not a huge fan of dogs. I am a cat person through and through. I never met a cat I didn’t love. I have never loved another cat more than my Sam cat. Badger has changed my opinion of dogs, but mostly it’s just him. I have become one of those dog moms like the kid moms who still really don’t like kids, but they love their kid.
My kids.
Sam and Badger are both very good pets and contribute greatly to our quality of life. I just hope that I am doing them both as much justice and love as they do me.
Pets anyone?“Um, you stopped petting me. Why?”“Heller, may I come in please?”Bella’s jacket.
After all that talk yesterday about how awesome I am, let’s humbly visit the flip side.
The masses are telling me that the shingles were caused by stress. Yet I am not cognitively aware of the stress. I want to be careful how I word things here, because I don’t want to convince myself of something that I already believe (I’m fine) and not be open to what the team is telling me.
So stress. Shingles. Apparently stress can lead to shingles. Check. I have had a significant case of shingles since Christmas. Now I also have shingles and a cold! When I spoke to one of my support team yesterday, they suggested that the long drawn out court case had maybe worn on me.
I agreed it was possible, but that I had taken the court process one task at a time. Mediation. This went no where and I was frustrated. Very frustrated. The next step, I looked briefly at filing things on my own. That overwhelmed the shit out of me so it was quite quickly abandoned.
Ok, so get an attorney. Secure funds and a plan to start a payment plan. Feasible and done with humility, consistency, and grace, not just by me. The greatest losers here were Amazon and a savings account that never existed before 2020.
Once those main things were done, I followed the advice of my attorney with gratitude and peace. I set her payment into my monthly budget and haven’t given it another thought. Nope. That is not true. There was an initial retainer and I knew that once that was gone, there would be another bill at $300/hr. This wore on me but I still knew that I had done the right thing for me and my kiddo. When the second bill inevitable came in, it was handled in the same manner. I couldn’t be more grateful and my actions link with my words. This is so important for me. For a very very long time, this was not a thing.
I went through the long drawn out court procedure. It is amazing to me how quickly I forget things. I forget things while they are happening. It’s my brain or, more likely, my higher power protecting me. I don’t know how long the case went. I did’t realize that I had done a step up visitation for months into a year until Isabella’s other mother asked for a step up plan in court proceedings and my attorney came back with, that’s what we have been doing for the last year. So she fought that. Her job, not mine.
My job was me and I enacting my sponsor like some kind of decoder ring or Batman device. Engage shields! Firepower on! I had called my sponsor every morning for the first year and a half or so. Since then, I had settled into my own routine only calling her as needed. I reengaged her to call every morning. I also set up individual counseling.
Between meetings and back and forths, I stuck to the routine. On the big day, I sent out the flare. I called in my parents who drove in from Ellsworth the night before. I called in my sponsor. I called in my beloved Angela. I called in my dear friend that was mentioned at the beginning of this story.
The judge awarded me joint custody and more parenting time. I had the moon every other weekend from Saturday at 10am till Sunday and 2pm, and the following Saturday from 10am-2pm. Then it bumped up to longer weekends, Saturday 10am-Sunday 6pm. And finally, after the first of the year, Friday after school at 3pm till Sunday at 6pm, and the following Monday after school to Tuesday morning at school.
Homework time.
When this gets laid over a calendar, I have her Monday evening and the following Friday. They fall in the same week since the Monday is after every other weekend. Follow? Yeah, I had a hard time as well, especially when I looked at my work schedule. I would have to bounce from work at 230pm twice in one week and the following week wouldn’t be affected at all.
I went back and forth with Isabella’s other mother on this, trying to find a better compromise, but she was dead set on sticking with the exact order from the judge. I humbled myself, grabbed my vulnerability underwear, and went in to see my boss.
Last year in February, in preparation for this order, I took a different position at work. Instead of answering the phones at the call center, I train the folks that answer the calls. This removed my weekend shifts. Now I needed to tweek my hours to accommodate the early days. I was very open with my boss. When it comes to the administrative stuff, she excels and I am grateful. She helped me navigate extended hours and PTO hubaloo. I don’t think everything is set in stone yet, and hell, it’s only the fourth week of the year, so we haven’t had but a single rotation.
Reenter my wise friend from the beginning of the story: “You may not be experiencing stress as another would, but can we at least agree that there has been a lot of change?”
I am thrown back to that 18 year old that had just moved out on their own. My parents were strict, I had just moved out of their house, and I was going to start having some fun. I didn’t need a schedule; I didn’t need routine. Life was a day by day thing. And this was before I discovered alcohol or drugs! I worked two jobs, got my own apartment and did whatever the hell else I wanted. Visualize negotiating both jobs so I could go see my grandparents for the weekend and help my grandmother clean her house. Yeah, I was a bad ass.
Shortly after I did discover drugs and alcohol and there was definitely no routine, unless you count work, drink, work, drink. I met girls, well quickly one girl, pool on Wednesday’s with $1.50 pitchers, weekends at friends’ and bars, you know, 20 something’s stuff.
We moved to New Mexico and the party got bigger and the drugs changed. Maybe it was it’s own routine. I got in my first real trouble there and we eventually moved back home. There I had my first long term job at the moving company and the routine was a 40 hour work week and “partying.” I did this quite steadily for 4 years in Wichita.
After that, there would be no real routine for 10 years. Even with reaching my first bottom, entering recovery, losing my first wife, moving to Manhattan and finally Lawrence. Even with meeting my second wife, getting married, going to college, having a kiddo, relapsing, losing said kid, and a second divorce. School was a big contributor to this. A semester schedule is never longer than a semester. I am not that 18 year old kid who wants to get out from under the thumb of my parents anymore either. I also hadn’t changed much from that kid.
I went to rehab three times in 2019. There, in my early 40’s, I discovered my love of routine. I knew exactly what to expect. From the moment my eyes opened until they shut at night, I knew the schedule. I had little freedom over my own schedule. That was a learning curve all it’s own. As soon as I would leave rehab and try things on my own, something was still there that caused the return to the bottle.
So I went back to rehab. And back again. Then to the most strict sober living house in Wichita. I finally got a job. I had to report my work hours to the house so they knew when I would not be at scheduled events, and work was the only thing you missed scheduled events for. That house, that routine, that accountability, saved my life.
When the stars aligned for me to return to Lawrence, it felt easy to get a job and my current employment fell into my lap. This is the best job I have ever had. I learned in this job that customer service is a noble career. I found other people that love routine and knowing what to expect. I had never really had folks in my life like that before. And if I did, I shunned them for it or I flat out didn’t understand.
I set up a life with my beloved now fiancée. We lined our schedules to fit each other to maximum benefit for both. And we built this big beautiful life. We built in work, and play, and spirituality, and growth, and peace, and love, and hobbies, and fellowship. We built in things we do together and time alone. We got a dog. We bought a house. We lived happily ever after.
The one thing for me that was missing was still my kiddo, so I went to court. And that big beautiful life has been serving as the backbone for the last year. I won that court case. I killed it. It has been challenging to my newest love, routine. Change. Gosh I hate to admit that. This is why I foster relationship with the village. Y’all can tell me things that I cannot see alone.
The biggest stressor with this change in routine has been work. I love my job. I have never had this kind of stability in my life. Never. I have been riddled with fear that I will lose it. This month long shingle sickness has come in sideways as it seems to jeopardize one of the things that I fear losing. But I have done the work, gone to the doctor, got documentation, and worked from home.
I never did any of this for legitimate reasons in the past. If I was “sick” or had gone to the doctor to get time off work, it was because I wanted to drink for a week without consequence. I have rarely lived in the light quite like I do today.
So I will be patient with myself. I will acknowledge that this is a brand new hard fought and won routine. I deserve this addition to my big beautiful life, my beloved moon. Everything else will work itself out. I have a dear friend that says, don’t push the river. The only constant in life is change. Oof.
I am currently reading “Quit Like a Woman” by Holly Whitaker. I think someone recommended it, probably a year ago like most of the books I am reading.
The book seemed to be marketed and sold as a look on the obsessive nature of alcohol in our culture, and while the first part of the book is focused on that, Whitaker then takes a hard left and describes her self-created recovery plan of feminine-centric recovery.
I was in before, but now I’m really in. Once you get past the part about the general obsessive nature of alcohol in our society, she focuses her lens on women and other marginalized groups. I am only half finished with the book. This isn’t a review.
What it is is my nature of integrating what I read into my life. I love nonfiction. I really don’t love the idea of self-help books, but I love expanding my spirituality and I find it easy to do with non-fiction “self-help” crap. They are like my romance novels to myself.
So discipline is out and commitment is in. Here’s why: Whitaker describes discipline from Webster’s dictionary as “control gained by enforcing obedience or order; orderly prescribed conduct or pattern of behavior; self-control.” Secondarily, “punishment.” There are so many four letter words in that definition that it made me cringe.
Control, enforce, obey, and punish. For me it would read self-control, self-enforce, self-obey, and self-punish. Nope.
Commitment, on the other hand, as described by Whitaker, for her own effect I assume, is the “complete opposite of discipline, in that it blossoms from one’s own will. We commit to things we want to do, not things we’re supposed to become. It is also more forgiving than discipline.”
Discipline calls for repenting while commitment calls for refocusing. Commitment calls us “sweetie” while discipline calls us “lazy.” Commitment is focused on the journey while discipline sees only results. Commitment begs us to stay with ourselves as we try something new. Discipline says we either succeed or fail.
This is a perfect example of how I get in my own way. Set up the roadblocks. I decided on a word for myself for the whole year, that has several of my character defects embedded in it’s definition and meaning! Things I didn’t love about the house I grew up in. Things I don’t love about how I am in my own home and how I treat my partner! Oh my goodness. I can be so on the beam and so off the beam.
I can even think I am dead center on the beam and not even be in the building in which the beam is housed. My very own recovery allows me to self correct with love and laughter. Holly, you silly. Refocus. Recommit. I love you.
Move in day December 30th, 2020
One of the major things I want to commit to this year is my home. I have never been a home owner or lived in a place that was mine. I want to keep it lovely so I can enjoy it on a daily basis. I want to keep the kitchen counter clean and wiped off. I want to keep the kitchen table clutter free. I want to keep the wood burning stove area swept up. I want it to be a warm and inviting place to others and I don’t want to have to clean the whole damn house when someone is coming over. But I don’t want to present a home to others, I want to keep it for myself. Come spring, we taking all the above energy into the yard and garden.
But again, I want to do these things for myself. I don’t want to punish myself if they are not kept up and I certainly don’t want to put this on my person. We each struggle with our own demons when it comes to home upkeep. I want to do this for me. I guess in the long run if you are a line person, or to circle back, if you are a circle person, I want to commit more deeply to myself and my own needs and what makes me happy and thriving.
I’ll be the first to tell you that two years and eight months or 971 days of sobriety is a long time, becases it fucking is, but for me, settling in to my body, my life, my future marriage, my home… I’m just getting started. And I’d say commitment to all those things in 2023 is an excellent correction.
I chopped two pieces of wood last night. Two! It is the first wood I have chopped for a month! I played with the dog! I took out the trash!
I guess none of this stuff is miraculous, since I have not fully shut down my life for these blasted shingles, but I did these things without pain. It could have been the right moment when the pain meds and chicken wings were finding harmony in my belly. It could have been the 18th glass of water.
No matter, because what I felt was the deep ingrained gratitude peaking it’s little presence back into my heart. I love taking out the trash. It is this mundane requirement that has to be done yet, for me, it signifies a home and stability that I have never had before. Taking out the trash; what a gift!
NYE doggo.
And then, my sweet boy, my puppers, my doggo, my friend, wanted to play. He accompanied me outside for trash removal, then all, of a sudden, yet right on schedule, was wound for sound running circles around me. I’m out back in the dark searching for a toy while he circles me over and over getting some energy out. Pretty sure he was just picking up on my excitement of feeling better. What a ham.
Zoomies followed when I found a bone, gave it to him and then pretended to try taking it away, a little game we play on the regular. Me standing in the middle of the yard clapping him on while he tears about. He’s such a good boy. Best doggo friend I ever had.
I don’t want to jinx it. In fact, stop reading this! Go say three Hail Mary’s or knock on some wood. I have been to the doctor twice, out of the office working from home for a month, and generally just miserable. Operating at 50% would feel like a summer vacation, so let’s just keep this on the down-low so we don’t jinx it.
I still haven’t tried a bra. I don’t have the moon this weekend, so there is time to relax. I’d like to go back to work Monday. My work from home doc note is expiring.
Oof. Thoughts and prayers please. We could be on our way to healing. For my next trick, I will continue to be patient with myself because I have heard that the healing is slow. Even though this partial recovery appears to have come from nowhere, I know that is not true.
I miss my mom when she’s gone, but guess what dog boy, I can take care of myself for days on end.
Gratitude list: HP as often as I remember to check in, self-care out the yingyang, a fully supportive partner, Isabella Moon, a job that has worked so well with me, a loving support system outside my home, my extended family, comfy clothes, constant fires, candles, sleep, medicine and medication, books, writing, new habits within new struggle, humor, Netflix, diligence, ah, discipline, doggo, cat, my bed, my couch, sleep, personal time and space, KU basketball, weekend road trips, sponsees, continued mental health work and growth, patience, showers, a peaceful home, and chocolate.
I don’t think I chose this, do we ever, but I seem to be in a period of extreme growth. I would say that I am quite comfortable and even insist on a nice slow growth. That routine is built into my life! This appears to be X Games growth.
My youngest brother recently had a baby. For some reason, I saw this as an opportunity to visit and put his family first. I come from a large loud family and individuals, maybe even family sections can get lost within the whole.
My addiction caused me to miss a lot and my little Terry (who is a 35 year old man with four kids) is no exception. Not to mention that they do not live in Colorado anymore. They live right down the street near Ellsworth.
By the end of the blown tire day, I was full of self doubt, slight self pity, and what the hell-ness. Terry and fam had shopping Saturday, we had a blown tire. Sunday, they decided to go to the zoo. That seemed perfect, so Ang, Belly, and I hopped in the car and met them at Great Bend Zoo.
We arrived before the other clan so insert tomfoolery.
These two got to work being hams. Dab? I think it’s called dabbing. We discovered it was a good way to teach Belly to cough into her elbow as well. Surfin’ Safari. Monkey see, monkey do. Tree pose.Enter the star of the show! Supporting cast. One of the two Bella Babes.
The zoo was so much fun, nice weather for January. The kiddos raced here and there while Terry pulled a wagon and his beloved, Sarah pushed a stroller. I hobbled along wondering why everyone was so darn fast.
As I said, my sweet little brother has four kids. He’s like a full grown adult who is responsible for other people’s lives and stuff. I hope he enjoys it, because he seems good at being a daddy. He pulled Wyatt in the wagon and explained things to the two Bella Babes when they stopped long enough for conversation. Cooper was dead weight in the stroller pushed by Sarah as she chatted and pointed out zoo things.
The Bella Babes, nicknamed by my Daddy. Isabella and Arabella. These kiddos are like 20 days apart in age. We discovered the lion was stalking Wyatt because Terry was pulling him in a cart that looked similar to the food cart. Insert multiple jokes about feeding children to lions. Eye on the prize and the prize is a tasty child.
Isabella wanted to hold Cooper. She made it known to me from the beginning of the weekend, and I wasn’t sure of the plan, so I told her to let Sarah know her wishes. I think she did that, but I backed it up by letting Terry know. We followed them back to their house and Belly and I both got to feed and hold Cooper.
Reprise of Cooper after napping through the zoo.
Terry and Sarah have a BEAutiful home. Sarah calls it “The Money Pit” from a hilarious 80’s movie. Terry says it reminds him of the home we grew up in, over 100 years old. We got the full tour guided by Arabella. Terry’s eldest, Mavrik joined us after helping his Grandpa do some shopping, and retired to his room like a teenager. Then we just settled in and hung out. It was so wonderful. Wyatt had a movie on, Terry and Ang played games on their phones, the Bella Babes played games all over the house, I cuddled my newest nephew, and Sarah flitted about the house like a doting mom, checking laundry, helping Wyatt with a bath, and appearing after a time to announce she’d been preparing dinner.
Teriyaki chicken and rice with steamed broccoli. And oh what a feast. We all sat down as a family at this beautiful giant table and shared a meal. Reminder that I am from a large family of yellers. There was never a loud or cross word spoken. All were called to the table and it was so nice that I am struggling to find the words.
My loves.Apologies to Sarah for not getting a better pic, but look at this domestic goddess! Baby in one hand, fork in the other.
After dinner, we quickly came upon a deadline of my 8pm breathalyzer. I didn’t have it with me. Part of my joint custody agreement is that I take a breathalyzer at 8pm every night that I have Bella. When we left at 3pm, I thought, all we have to do is be home by 8pm. This should be no problem. We were having so much fun that 8pm came up rather quick. After revealing to Bella that we would have to get going, I was instructed to “just bring it with you from now on, Mom.” Noted.
The Bella Babes saying goodbye.
We thanked our gracious hosts and headed for Ellsworth. While I felt bad for not bringing the breathalyzer, I also think god had a hand in helping us get out of there in a timely manner. I’m sure Terry and Sarah wanted to start the bedtime routine with their brood.
My sweet little brother Terry, and that’s how I have always seen him, is this big grown up guy with a longtime steady job and a whole entire family. I still remember this kid as the kid who used to visit me at Java in Manhattan asking for whipped cream on his chocolate chip cookie.
Here is where my most recent sobriety still feels so new. I am sober and back in the lives of anyone who wants me, but they have lives and families that go back much farther than two and a half years. Since my sobriety and their moving back to Kansas from Colorado, I have done an amazing job at building a relationship with my folks. I thought it was high time that I put some of that effort into my baby brother, his lovely person, and my niece and nephews, not to mention the cousin factor for Bella.
It’s not all rainbows and puppy kisses as Terry and my folks have things going on that don’t involve me and possibly go back farther than my sobriety. So I started work to maintain boundaries and individual relationships. I have worked to get into the lives of my folks. We have a good relationship. The same can be true for Terry.
The weekend was about Cooper and his amazing family, and we achieved the start I was looking for. My gratitude speaks…
The Isms of the Ic 