I”ve got one month. 31 days. I am going to make it count.

I love May. Starting with May Day! When I was a kid, we would pick flowers, lilacs, from a huge bush in our yard, wrap them in paper cones homemade with paper handles, and take them to the neighbors, hang them on the doors, ring the bell, and run away. My mother was usually waiting at the property lines and we would watch with her as the neighbors opened the doors and received their flowers. It was lovely. And lilacs smell amazing on May 1st. I have a lot of fond memories of that lilac bush in our yard. It was huge, the size of our whole side yard. It was so big that we cut paths in it and made a fort in the middle. It was our “secret hideaway.” 

I had two different places like this as a kid. One in each house I lived in growing up. The first one was called “Holly’s Hideaway” and it was in our neighbors back yard. Pretty sure I had less siblings at that time. But by the time we got to the second house, it was just our “secret hideaway.” I remember sharing it most with the boys. 

Welcome, May! Welcome longer days and sunshine. Welcome birds and flowers. Welcome warmer temperatures that aren’t cold or hot. Welcome smells of spring. Welcome. 

I am setting some goals for this month and rising more than I have in a while. I am challenging myself to write daily, walk daily, continue working, and living this sober life that I have carved out for myself. I am proud of it all. And now I am ready to do more. 

I joined the Paw Valley Challenge with the Lawrence Humane Society to walk 20 miles in May. I have put some pounds on this past year, two years, that I would like to begin trimming. If anyone wants to join me, it’s all virtual on Strava for a meer $20 to help myself and the Lawrence Humane Society. Hit me up and I’ll forward you the email to join. 

I have gotten away from writing. I don’t want to do that. I write for me. I write to be read, but I write for me. So I’m going to write daily. I may not post every day as I write in a journal as well, but let the writing recommence. I also make a gratitude list more days than not and this is as good a place as any to include that.

Yay, May! Let there be affirmations, and growth, and love. Let there be connection and ease of well being. I have all the creative power of the Universe and it flows through me. Unless I block it. Let the unblocking begin. #loveholly

Hey, I smiled today. And I was happy to do it. I had a wonderful dinner that I didn’t have to make. Then a snack that I did make. I spoke with my most beloved human, and watched TV allowed me by another of my favorite humans. There was rain. Comfort. Sobriety. I suppose a little fellowship. There was love. A little boredom. I’m a pretty damn interesting person tho, so rarely bored. And then this. Just a tiny bit of creativity. That’s all quite a little bit okay today. That smile tho. It felt really good. I bet I looked cute as hell. I know at least one person who would have thought so. And y’all know what? I just wanted to share that with you. So there.

Not much has changed for me except when I talk about my depression or how hard it is to stay sober, everyone now says, you know, everyone is going through a lot right now. This is and has been my life for years. Addiction. Depression. Anxiety. Fear. Emotions I cannot control. Lack of interest in life and people. Only now the world seems to be experiencing it. So how do y’all feel? Shitty, right? Yeah, it sucks. It’s hard to reach out for help, especially all the time every day. You don’t know what to do or how to do it. You try one thing and it doesn’t work and you are still depressed so you try another and another. You go to work, if you are allowed, by society or your broken brain. You come home and do your routine. Something is missing. You don’t know what or how to fix it. You go to bed and try it all again tomorrow. And tomorrow and tomorrow. Always asking, how long will this last? 

I am still away from everyone I love. I’m still a visitor in my own nightmare. Most moves feel wrong. I am treading water asking when will this all end knowing that it won’t. Knowing that I am the only one who can “fix” it. I’m not waiting on a virus to pass, work to return to, social activities that bring me joy, not even waiting to go out to eat at a restaurant I used to love. I can barely afford basic essentials to make it to work, keep insurance on my car, a working phone, and medications. I’m not waiting for a virus to pass so I can return to normal life. This is my life. 

The only thing that has changed is that I cannot see the one person left in my life that still returns my love and treats me with kindness and respect. So, yeah, we are all going through a lot. I wish no one ill. I pray you are all finding ways to cope. If you find the magic bean, I’ll split it with you. 

Thank god for my job, coworkers, home, housemates, my sobriety today. No matter how long this lasts and how bad it is, I still have the power to make it worse. I’m the only one who can change it. What are you going to do different this time? How do I get home?

Unfortunately, I do not have the option of social distancing at this moment. I guess clarification would require me to state that my opinion of social distancing is not possible for me at the moment. I don’t have it for a few reasons. I am still working, which I am very grateful for. Work = pay. I am safer at work than home. I live in a sober living home in Wichita, which houses 40+ people. So at work, I am in a much larger room than home with fewer people. At home, which I am wicked grateful for, we eat and meet together, so far required. At work, I still get to help people from the safety and comfort of my cubicle. And I love it. Work is taking precautions to keep us safe and we get to help people all over the country with their Boot Barn needs. We are considered a service to Critical Industry needs. And this may seem like non-essentials for some, but there are those who are still working to keep this country going and they need work boots. This, I choose, to believe is the reason for me still being at work, not to mention that IFDK about pay if I am not there and I am at a bare minimal functional level financially. I choose to stay at work in case I do get sick and have to be gone for 2+ weeks. So I am grateful for work for more reasons than one. I will continue to suit up and show up until they tell me otherwise.

That being said, I have had the last 2 days off. It’s been like the standard definition of a vacation: it’s so good to go somewhere fun and different and then it’s so good to come home. Yesterday, in favor of isolation, I stayed in my room. I was a little surprised at myself, though because I relish my days off for things like reading and writing, but all I did yesterday was watch free movies on YouTube. There is not a great selection. I don’t have cable or any of the other tv provider apps or anything. I was kind of paralyzed. I got out some creative expressions but really just vegged out. So much so that I thought I would have trouble sleeping last night, but slept better than I have in days. Depression? New normal? Day off without love love in town? I just don’t know.

Today has been different. I read for hours in my book, currently Harry Potter Year 4, this morning. With the libraries being closed, I’m scared to read my book because it will end. Is anyone else experiencing this? I cannot check out a new one so I don’t want to finish the one I’m on. Let’s not mention that I have a habit of collecting books that I have yet to read. And there is a plethora of online books. So I read.

And as I sit here writing, I am listening to Brene Brown’s new podcast. It’s called Unlocked. This is new. Maybe not so ironically this idea of the new normal is exactly what she is talking about in her first podcast. Honestly I don’t even like podcasts, yet here I sit. Brene is speaking of FFT. Fucking First Time is what she calls it. She states that, even as we are adults and moving through life, that we have some clue about what we are doing. This is not the case for most adults at this moment. Nothing is the same. In fact, if it is the same, that makes me anxious. This is a little bit of the case in my home. Same equals lack of education. Same equals sickness. Same equals poverty. What can I personally do? How do I change to survive?

Well I am an alcoholic, so I want to run. How the hell do I get out of here? I also want to blame. These people are not taking this shit seriously. I cannot go anywhere because I have nowhere to go but surely some of these other people have somewhere to go. I assume that the people running this house are operating from an ostrich perspective, yet we have never been here before so how the hell would I know? They don’t know what to do as I don’t know what to do. They serve alcoholics. I am one of them. Now what?

Run. Run and run. My mind is insane. I could quarantine at my folks’ house. I could also kill my grandmother by doing so. I could force myself on my girlfriend. She could also kick me to the streets because she has a commitment to her family. I think I can worm my way and appeal to emotions because I am susceptible to that, but others don’t see things this way. Boundaries are boundaries.

So here is Brene: Normalize it– name your feelings and tell yourself it is okay. No matter what that looks like. Feel scared. Feel insecure. Model it for your kids and peers. This is human and emotional intelligence. You don’t have to protect your loved ones. You can model “I have no clue” and still move forward despite uncertainties and emotionalism. Name emotions. Show vulnerability. Be you and model what is going on within you.

Put in perspective– perspective is a function of experience. Feelings are okay. All the feels. Insert gratitude here. More on that in another blog.

Reality checking– expectations. “Listen with the same passion that you have for wanting to be heard.” Harriet Lerner. 

Local. City. County. State. Area. Nation. Family. Loved ones. Near and far. I see you. I hear you. I am you.

Dear Bella,

I got to spend time with you in my dreams last night. This is the first time this has happened but it would be awesome if it wasn’t the last. We were at some kind of mall with a water fountain. I remember I was just following you around wherever you wanted to go. I stayed as close as possible to you, holding you when you weren’t running around like a toddler. When you would sit on my lap, I remember I stroked your arm and felt your soft skin. We were emotionally connected like mother and daughter might be. 

I am so sorry that this separation has happened. Blame changes nothing. Our feelings will be both of ours to deal with. When I’m allowed, I will be there for you. I will listen to your feelings and support you in ways that I didn’t even know existed when you were born. I wouldn’t have had the chance to learn some of the unconditional love and practices that I have learned without our seperation. There’s an interesting thought. When I started all of this, my heart was in the right spot. Since then, your birth, and the separation from you, I have learned a lot and grown so much. I’m sure you have as well, but you cheat because you are a child. Haha. 

Thanks for appearing in my dreams last night, my darling girl. All my ever growing love is yours. You are a part of me and always will me.

Love,

mommie

When you are wrapped up in depression, right in the middle, in the thick of it, it is easy to tell if you are having a good day. Wait, let me stop me right there: even part of a good day is, well, good!

I woke up and went to morning meditation at my house. I did not go back to bed. After meditation, I didn’t go back to bed again and, in fact, dressed for the gym. Then I took my meds, as prescribed, on time. Then I actually went to the gym! But not before cleaning out the front seat of my car. Whaaa?! Like someone could actually sit there today. At the gym I biked for 30 minutes, rowed for like 10, did 2 different ab machines, and hit the step-mill for 5 minutes. That’s amazing shit right there when it’s a chore to get up and stay up. AND… I did all this while I finished up the formatting on my blog because the gym has WiFi and the service at my house sucks. So I posted my latest blog which has been freeing to some of the heartache I go through on a daily basis yet alone a birthday week for my daughter. Upon returning home, I showered and ate a decent breakfast. My shower self care regime is pretty satisfying as well. I have gone without my hair conditioner, hair oil or lotion for my skin many times before. What a gift! It’s really nice to not have to do that today and I am grateful every single day I get to use my chosen hygiene supplies. Since I had not gone back to bed, and stayed motivated, I still had time after my shower to do a little journaling and reading. This is usually inspiring and gratifying. Again with the crippling depression that I have experienced lately, it’s not always inspiring. There are times I cry, or want to go back to bed. But today was okay! All the while during this morning that doesn’t suck, that I didn’t have to drag myself through, there is my love on the text line talking about her latest analogy of human behavior. That’s a good morning for a depressed chica!

God, I am proud of the effort I put into my daughter’s 5th birthday despite the perpetual resistance. I need you to take the results and wrap them in your love and take care of me as you do it. I did my part. Please help me accept the results. Please help me guard my anger and expectations with love. #loveholly

I know that my t-shirt can’t actually be choking me as I wear it, but that’s what it feels like. Like I can’t breathe. Bella’s birthday is coming up and I will not be allowed to be present. Again.

My Bella love was born on Friday the 13th, the same day that her birthday falls on this year. She is 5. This is the 3rd birthday that I have missed. 

When she was 3, X and I were already separated and I was struggling with my alcoholism. I chose not to go to the party because I was drunk and did not want to make a scene. I cannot remember if there was a protection order in place that year or not, but I do remember that I was granted access to her 3rd birthday party. 

When she turned 4, I was not allowed to be present as we were definitely in the confines of a protection order. I know that I was not drunk during the time of this party, but I may have gotten drunk soon before or after. 

This year the protection order has been extended for a 3rd year. I have no idea why. X thinks she is protecting Bella and herself from me. I marvel at the injuriousness that comes from X. I have never been one to spread negativity or hurt others. And even at my most ill, I never intentionally harmed another human, yet alone going back for repeated harm. So I am, yet again, not allowed at my daughter’s birthday. It is tearing me apart inside. I cannot recall a worse depression.

It’s a struggle to get out of bed daily. The few times that Angie has visited and helped me smile and laugh, my face has hurt from not smiling and laughing for so long. I have not taken a drink over this yet. It is my plan to continue on this path. I consistently do the next right thing like eat, sleep, go to meetings, even the gym sometimes. I cannot remember the last time that I ate because I was hungry. Nearly all of my eating is emotional at this point. Each morning when I wake I look forward to the moment when I can get back in my bed. This morning when I got up, I found myself looking forward 2 days to my day off when I can stay in bed all day. 

All that being said, I do make attempts to care for myself to the best of my current abilities. I take my medication every day on time and without fail. I sleep 7-8 hours a night during my work week. I go to work. This has allowed me to pay child support payments for 6 months and counting. I eat the food that is given to me as part of my recovery program and housing. I speak with my Lawrence sponsor and my Wichita sponsor daily. I speak with the heart of my soul multiple times a day. And when I do get to stay in bed, I read, both fiction and non. I write.

I am angry. I still blame. I have made progress and continue to do so. There is bitterness in my heart about the things I am missing that I will never get back while I sit here sober, doing the next god-damned right thing. I suppose when mental illnesses come into conflict, the stronger, possibly more sick one will present it’s will over the other. I don’t do good and bad or winners and losers. I am not a fighter. I am a very passionate yet passive person. I will never defend myself. I prove myself to no one. This allows for rampant gaslighting and bulldozing for those who perceive lack of power and therefore exert it upon another. For me personally, showing up to this kind of school yard conflict would send me farther into a tailspin that would be ignorantly recorded and used later to hurt me more.

None of this takes the pain away. Knowing that I continue to do what is best for me relieves no pain. It takes away zero anger. It contributes to the flatness of my current life while elders and mentors cheer me on because all you need it time they say. Sobriety and time. 

So Bell is 5. This is the 3rd birthday I have missed. One due to my alcoholism that I take full responsibility for. The other two have been taken from me against my will. This does not set well with me.