Okay, here we go with discipline in 2023. I’m off to a good start. The kitchen table is still clean. The kitchen sink is still clean. The counter is free of clutter and wiped off. So is the stove. The weekend laundry is done.
I have also been reading, as promised. I got a recommendation to track my reading through the app Goodreads. And when I say reading, this is what it looks like at the moment…
So when I say that I am reading six books, what it really means is that a squirrel ran by and I picked up a different book in the meantime. This has been a long habit of mine. I am great at getting inspired and buying books. I am mediocre at starting them. The spot that needs the focus is finishing them. Discipline.
Still digging the morning routine of reading and writing. Discipline. Let’s go!
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…
Thank goodness the weekend was long because we needed all of it.
Start Friday by picking up the kid. The new order conflicts with my work and I am still trying to manage pickup from school at 320 twice a week, every other week.
It’s been so long since Friday at this point that I can’t even remember what we did. Oh! Dinner with one of Angie’s sides of the family, a belated Christmas gathering.
Isabella met and played wonderfully with her new cousin, Asher. First time meeting and they played on their own all evening. I was asked to leave the basement when I checked on them.
Saturday morning we packed up and headed for Ellsworth, KS to meet my newest nephew, Cooper. I am still struggling with my shingles so Ang was the captain of the Prius while I lounged in the passenger seat.
Just after Abilene, the passenger rear tire blew. Ang masterfully navigated to the side of I-70 and we got to work digging out the spare. With our belonging spread all over the side of the highway, the spare was retrieved and lug nuts were removed. It was then that we discovered that we could not remove the blown tire. It was stuck to the car. Thank god for AAA, but we were stranded on the side of the road for about an hour.
This turned out to be quite scary for a 7 year old, so we decided to go sit in the ditch instead of the car. I could feel her stress every time a car passed by us shaking the car. There were big tears. We all felt safer in the ditch. Thank god it was decently warm outside. Things could have been a lot worse.
The family that sits in the ditch together…
We got the spare put on and headed for Salina. More praises to HP because Walmart had a tire in stock. It cost us a few hours of our day, but since we were still headed to Ellsworth, and had a return trip, we didn’t want to drive on the donut that long.
Walmart is where I started running into my feels. The pain medication that I had taken before we left the house was wearing off right along with all the adrenaline that the blowout had caused. I got frustrated with myself for allowing the tire to get so bald. I didn’t realize it was quite that bad. I didn’t do it on purpose. I am not the irresponsible person I used to be. It was still bald and should have been looked at before a road trip with the family.
I don’t let things slide like I used to. I have funds for the upkeep on my car. I also made a mistake. But that was kind of just the beginning. Add the extended illness of shingles, which has been wearing on me emotionally as well as physically, and I started doubting myself more. Why had I forced this trip? Should we have stayed home? How much do I need to baby this shingles virus? I hate not wearing a bra in public, but it is still painful to wear one. I felt really bad that that kiddo was so scared on the side of the highway. Those big tears tear at my soul.
A short 7 hours later, we arrived at our 3 hour destination, Grammie and Papa’s house of wonders. Grammie fixed us a lovely dinner and I headed to bed, exhausted and in pain. I slept off and on for 12 hours that night. Because I woke up several times, I had not one but two or three bad dreams including drinking and losing my job. Can we say stress?
Sunday morning is church time and Bella wanted to go to church with Grammie so we all decided to go for support and solidarity. Catholic Church is always comforting to me since I was raised catholic and know all the songs and traditions.
These two beauties walked while Ang and I drove in the car. Drive by photo.
As you can see, 12 hours of sleep plus church with all my loves, and the weekend started to turn for the better.
As I write this, it’s Tuesday morning and I have a seven year old next to me who wants to cuddle and read another chapter in her book, so you will have to wait for the rest of this story until tomorrow.
I called back to Prompt Care to see about a follow up on my shingles and they told me to follow up with my primary care physician. If you are a full grown adult who has lived in the same town for over 10 years and have no idea who your primary care physician is, you are my people.
Recovery is a funny thing. When we get sober, we start tackling the daily tasks that have been left to the side due to our using. Things like showering and brushing our teeth. Maybe going to work or eating three meals a day. Then comes monthly tasks like paying bills. And finally yearly tasks like paying taxes or seeing a primary care physician.
I want to note that if one has been on mental health medication for a full year, that in itself is a win. And if you are anything like me, seeing a doctor once a year for something that is already working, is, in my professional alcoholic opinion, dumb.
When the emergency clinic told me to follow up with my primary care doctor, I did what all self respecting independent women would do, I texted my person and asked her who the hell that might be. Can you believe she didn’t know?
We had a short conversation about where I got my meds refilled last year and who might be my primary care doctor. I thought maybe I had just started going to all the doctors she was going to, for ease of wellbeing. She told me who her doctor was and whala, there they were in my phone.
The main reason I have little use for a primary care doc is that their appointments usually book weeks and months in advance. Ain’t nobody got time or planning capacity for that!
This story has a relatively happy ending. There is not much of anything they can do for the shingles. They have to run their maddening painful course. Bonus was I found my lost doctor, made an appointment (for next month!) for a physical and got my mental health meds refilled for a year. Next year when I can’t remember who the hell my doctor is, ima need y’all to help me remember.
Peace, love, and light.
My mother had this suggestion about my pain: Siri concurred.
Check it off the bucket list: I got to attend a University of Kansas basketball game with both of my parents. Where to start…
Mom and Dad in front of the two national championship trophies.
Both of my folks attended, graduated, and met at the University of Kansas. It’s a lovely story. Second semester of their senior years, they both took a swimming course as their “fun” class. I don’t know if my mom noticed my dad, but my dad noticed her and asked her out.
Joe’s donuts was one of the Lawrence college spots at the time and one night, pretty late I guess, my dad asked my mom if he could bring her some donuts. I think maybe he asked her out for donuts and she said it was too late, so he said he would bring them to her. She said she was already in her pajamas and he suggested a house coat. She said she didn’t have any milk to go with donuts. All she had was kool-aid. Apparently my dad said kool-aid was fine with him, so my mom was out of excuses and agreed to see my dad. According to Mr. College Boy, that was his third date that night.
Mom says it was a whirlwind romance. My dad had a cool car and would pick her up and take her to class. I owe my very existence to KU.
We were raised as Jayhawks. When I started attending KU, the desire to attend a game with my folks grew. The atmosphere is electric. I didn’t know that my mother doesn’t like basketball, but a live game can include so much more than the actual game. The traditions, the stadium, the band, the chants, the mascots, the group atmosphere. We got the cathedral up to 120 decibels last night and pretty much willed KU to actually win in the last three minutes.
National Championship trophies from 2022 and 2008.
We got there pretty early so we could walk around and look at all the displays. You could spend the good part of the day in the historical part of Allen Fieldhouse. It’s pretty much a sports history museum. The very first Jayhawk mascot costume is there. I can’t remember the year. Baby Jay was born at a football game one year after my folks graduated. A piece of the original court is on display. And, as we all know, since basketball was invented at KU, the original rules are in the new addition alongside the Fieldhouse.
Parts of the written rules light up the bridge from Allen Fieldhouse to the addition where the original rules are displayed.
I learned something new last night in that my mom was a bigger nerd than I knew and had never been to a game at Allen Fieldhouse. The student camping traditions go back to their time (Class of 1970) but my dad said he was not part of a camping group. Mom lived in Oliver Hall and was surprised to see it no longer exists.
I have missed a significant part of my own life due to addiction. I don’t make that mistake today. This boomers are not getting any younger, hell, neither am I. I struggled the entire night with my shingles. I was in a decent amount of pain all evening, but I was not going to miss this.
These moments are etched now. I took it all in. Mom needed assistance going up and down the stairs. Dad’s gait has an old man slowness to it but he’s still always on a mission. It felt like I was on the ready at any moment to stop one of them from rolling down the stairs. Mom is a dawdler and has never met a stranger. And watching these two boomers try to use their phones to capture the moments and post about them was priceless.
Boomers on cell phones. My mother just walks up to this 6’6” volleyball player, raises her 5’2” head and starts chatting.
My folks were super proud of me when I started attending KU. I’d have to dig for the picture, but when I transferred from JCCC, I got them KU mom and dad T-Shirts. My folks have five kids and none of us had attended KU until their slow blooming kiddo hit the campus at the young age of 33. Mark my words, I will graduate one day as well. I’m not a straight line kinda person, but it will happen.
Manifestation.
My betrothed beloved beauty Angela dear is also a graduate of KU. Here I try to put into words how special all of this was, to have all three of these incredible people in a place that connects us all, in a place where I am less of the alcoholic that has caused so much worry and pain and more of their daughter and love that intersects with their formidable years and memories and experiences.
College girls on the court.Part of the displays in the front of Allen Fieldhouse.
New year. New part of the parenting plan. Yesterday I got to pick the moon up from school. I went in and met her teacher, her social worker, her school counselor, and got my password for the district website. (Spoiler alert: it says I don’t have a child enrolled. Oops)
We came home, played with Badger outside, and then hit the kitchen for this strange kid’s food choices. We had Mac and cheese and fried mushrooms, kiddo’s choice.
Appetizer of fried mushrooms
She started her homework while I cooked. We had reading and math. I copied the 3 minute addition drill and we did math side by side. She read her reading assignment to me and had me check answers to everything at her request.
I have prayed for this day. I have dreamed of this day. I have worked my ass off for this day.
Oh my god, it was such a physical struggle. These shingles are kicking my ass! It was painful to wear a bra to pick her up from school. I removed it while driving home because it was so uncomfortable. I finally reached out to my spiritual advisor, who also happens to be a nurse, and she suggested that I call back in to the doctor and let them know my progress or lack there of, and pain levels. Why didn’t I think of that? Oh yeah, because I need help with my life and I am so grateful for that. I am not 100% equipped to go it alone and I don’t have to.
After dinner and homework, we popped down to the Arts Center to see our beloved at art class. And we finished the night by reading Scaredy Squirrel (for the 4th time) in bed.
This part of the parenting plan has been tough with work. It’s been tough communicating with Isabella’s other mother. These shingles can suck it. But side by side math at the kitchen table in my own home and reading in my own bed. This is what makes it all worth it. My baby and me. Amen.
I don’t know why I dislike using the word stressed so much. I don’t even think it’s in my immediate self-descriptive vocabulary. If someone suggests that something is stressful or that I might be stressed, I get defensive or dismissive. “No,” I might say in a jovial patronizing way, “It must be something else.”
Here’s what Siri had to say on it.
I think maybe I think it’s too broad or too general. I am an action oriented person. I am a “next right thing (NRT)” person. Stress seems sweeping and broad. Sure anyone could be “stressed” about almost anything, but what is the very next issue? What is the next thing that can be done?
As I sit here in the new year with the court order continuing it’s step-up plan, I’ll have Isabella today after school until tomorrow before school. I sit here with an ice pack on my torso to ease the burning of the shingles, still unable to wear a bra which makes leaving the house very uncomfortable for me. I’m on day 15 with the shingles. Work has been affected. I haven’t been able to do much around the house and I am not sleeping well. There are definitely some things going on, but am I stressed?
If I use the current literature that I am studying, which is the new Brené Brown book, Altas of the Heart, Brené describes being stressed as “being in the weeds” as a server at a restaurant. If you are “in the weeds,” your coworkers jump to help you catch up. If you are “blown,” they send you out back for a smoke. Blown stands for overwhelmed, in Brené’s example. It’s listed under the heading “The Places we go when things are uncertain or too much,” and it’s the first section of the book.
I could concede to saying “I am in the weeds” but not “blown.”
Also listed in this section are overwhelm, anxiety, worry, avoidance, excitement, dread, fear, and vulnerability. Not a small lineup to define or identify in one’s self.
Exploring more, I was on medication for depression for about five years before I discovered that anxiety was playing a role in the depression. There are no quick fixes here, people.
I’m not much of a worrier, again I am action oriented. What can I do in this very moment? If the answer is nothing, I tend to not worry. I suppose there are moments when there is subtle worry that evades my prying brain. I pray those are moments of meditation and behind the scenes problem solving; ideas that seem to come from thin air.
Avoidance is the root of my addiction so I keep that in check pretty well. The ultimate avoidance is drinking, so smaller versions of that are carefully considered. That being said, I can zone out on some Netflix, I consume too much food and sugar, I vape, and kill me before taking my coffee.
I run on healthy excitement. I only dread big things. Things that are way out of my control. And even then, I do my part and show up. Court. I dreaded court, yet, I had done everything in my power and I had to let the rest to god. Winning that case has brought on a whole new handful of stressors, so there.
Fear is an interesting one. I have some pretty basic human fears that I’m sure are shared by most of humanity. Perhaps another day, another blog.
And vulnerability. I find myself being vulnerable all the time. It’s very beneficial. If part of this writing is processing, then, at this very moment, what I realize as I write is that maybe stress sneaks it’s way in and steals some vulnerability. When I stop sharing or share less with my person, when I am dealing with just a little bit too much on my own and not reaching out.
One of my most dear friends died Christmas morning. She spent Christmas Eve Day with all three of her children and 2 of her grand-babies. Her eldest announced a pending birth of the next grand-baby and I’m told she was overjoyed. Her children found her the next morning in her bed.
She was one of the most kind, loving, caring people I have ever known. She was great at caring for others and I was no exception. Belinda was one of the first people that reached out to me at the very beginning of my recovery. I didn’t know it then, but I was at the end of my first marriage. I went to medical detox and was to come home to an empty apartment, my significant at the time leaving me while I was in detox.
In order to avoid coming home to an empty disheveled apartment, Belinda invited me to stay at her home. Prior to going to detox, I hadn’t eaten in a month. I ate what they served (to the best of my recollection) and was now on my own to make food decisions. I remember choosing iceberg lettuce and strawberries.
I was devastated to be losing my first wife and sober 7 days. It’s a dark place to be. Belinda’s idea was to take my mind off of things, even for a short while. She put in a DVD of Jeff Dunham, the ventriloquist comic. I sat on the floor of her home eating a plain head of lettuce, and strawberries dipped in sugar. And we laughed. She didn’t try to fix anything or make me feel better. We just laughed. This was in 2009 and we have been friends ever since.
Belinda was one of those friends that became close and never let that closeness fade. She was so warm and quiet and calm. I moved from Wichita that same year, but we never lost the closeness, no matter how long it had been since we last spoke. When anything important happened in her life, she would call, as would I.
I was called for the announcement of her wedding, pending births of grand-babies, and almost anything her children were doing. When one of her children came to look at the campus at KU, we spent a lovely day on the hill.
Most recently, on August 11th, 2021, Belinda’s wife Gloria died. Belinda was devastated. I went and spent several days with her helping with Celebration of Life arrangements. Since our very first experience together, when I stayed in her home, she has been so comforting to me. I always wanted to extend that same gift to her.
This time the call came from one of her children, Becca. My phone rang Christmas morning and I knew something was wrong. I cannot imagine what her children are going through. I am grateful that her love lives on in them. I never once questioned her love for me. May I give that same love to her grieving children. They have been part of the joy of knowing the most fabulous Belinda Boston.
The dedication of her children shown here at Gloria’s service.
My Dearest Belinda, I know, even in death, that you are concerned about the pain your children are currently in. Believe me when I tell you that the comfort you brought others continues. They will be okay. Rest in Peace, dear one. I pray you are enjoying your release from earthly limitations. I pray your soul has found Gloria’s and any others you had lost in life. Thank you for your friendship and love. I am a better human because of you. Love, Holly
The Isms of the Ic 