alcoholism

Dual Emotions, Isolation, and High Sensitivity

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Although I’ve been feeling better overall, my mind has been a mix of dual emotions. Now that I’m not waking up from drinking the night before, I know it’s not alcohol affecting my feelings or moods anymore. Some days I am optimistic and content; other days, I am a mix of anger, grief, anxiety, and whatever else throws a wrench. I believe a lot of how I feel has to do with how much sleep I’ve had, how much pain I’m in, whether or not I’m hungry… or whether or not I’ve completely eliminated narcissistic assholes out of my life that have sucked me dry of joy.

On one hand, I want to be alone and feel like I’m better off alone, but on the other there are times I really feel the need for companionship. I mean, talking to my cat is fine and all, but it’s typically a one-way conversation and not exactly the adult mental stimulation I prefer. Being alone too much is unhealthy, but at the same time, I’m not going to put myself out there subjecting myself to people that aren’t out for my best interest. I feel that once I’ve fixed myself from all of this mess that I will feel safe enough to get back into the world and have better tools to handle things.

There are times when I feel like I want to be held, but at the same time, I don’t want anyone touching me. Again, until I am healed from heartbreak and boundaries being crossed, I can’t even allow myself to be put in that position. Four winters have passed without being held or touched in a good way, and it’s a reminder of all of the coldness and despair from people I’ve allowed into my life. Touch starvation is probably a factor in this, as well, especially intimate touch, even so much as a hug. At the same time, I cringe at anyone touching me unless I really want them to, and there are very few people I will allow to do that. So where does that leave me? Cuddling with my cat, because I trust him.

This is not my first time feeling this way in life.

Several years ago during my time in college, I pretty much isolated myself by moving out into the middle of nowhere in the woods. Prior to that, I was living closer to campus, but I still felt lonely by myself with a small child and no real friends. I had found it very difficult to make friends as a young, single mother, because being a single mother at that time isn’t the normal that it is now. Fast forward about seven years later, and I moved to another area in which I was kind of isolated from people. I loved where I lived, but the lack of socialization really sucked. And then I moved again across the country, further isolating myself from anything I knew, but still hopeful to make new friendships. I wasn’t necessarily trying to isolate myself from people (maybe a little bit) but mainly from noise and traffic and things that developing areas and cities offer – all things that cause anxiety for me. Probably out of reasons of loneliness, I befriended people that weren’t exactly spiritually uplifting or truthful.

During these times, it seemed the only way to socialize was to go to bars, because that’s what people my age did in the areas where I’d lived. Of course, that always involves drinking, which isn’t a good thing when you’re trying to make real friends and people that are true. But I didn’t know that at the time, because it was just the normal thing to do, and most people always seemed friendly. Had I known the reality of this, I’m sure my life would be much different today and alcohol wouldn’t have had such an effect.

Recently, I stumbled upon a documentary called Sensitive: The Untold Story. Although I’d heard titles about highly sensitive people, I’d never actually looked into what this personality trait was about. I was reading about all of the things I’d ever had issues with – things that had always made me feel that something was wrong with me, when in fact about 15-20% of the population is also this way!

Upon researching more about highly sensitive traits, I found some tests and pretty much checked every box. Sensitivity to noises, getting “hangry” easily, thinking or feeling deeply, having an imaginative inner world, and being extremely perceptive are just five of several traits I constantly experience as a highly sensitive person. All of this time, I have been trying to figure out how and why I have been this way and how to make it go away, because other people can’t handle it.

The results of these tests took me by surprise, because this is something that – if I had known about sooner – I could have used as part of my self-therapy long ago. Knowing that something isn’t wrong with me would have certainly helped with self-esteem issues and resulted in making much better decisions about my life and could have sought help in the right direction. Even after months of therapy on and off, this had never been brought to attention. Now that this has been discovered, I can use it as another healing tool towards this new journey.

Being Alone is Healing For the Soul

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There have been a ton of things I’ve wanted to post but not the brain energy to do so up until now. For the first three weeks this year, I had just about every COVID-19 symptom, but no fever and all negative COVID tests. My body ached so much that I did not leave the house. All I wanted to do was sleep, and I was afraid something serious was going on. Considering that I have mostly cut out alcohol, I thought I’d be feeling a hell of a lot better. It could very well just be allergies, fibromyalgia, or simply the weather; nevertheless, it still feels like flu symptoms every single day. For now, I feel as if I’m slowly coming out of whatever funk I had, and it’s time to buckle down and get things done, including building up my immune system to the powers of Wonder Woman. 😉

Due to not feeling well, focusing on things that require brainpower has been quite the challenge. I decided to focus more on doing physical things, such as fixing up my home, so that instead of looking like an exploding art gallery, it looks more like a welcoming and cozy place where a writer can work. I’ve set some new obtainable goals, made some life-changing decisions, and started working out, losing weight, meditating, and eating properly again.

Over the past month, I’ve been antisocial, introverted, and mostly a recluse – even when I’ve felt fine. Some of my friends have been trying to get together, but I’ve been completely unavailable – mostly from not feeling well, but also extremely busy or just wanting to be alone. Except for going to the store, the doctor, or my mom’s, I managed to leave the house two other times to attend events. I’ve bought two six-packs of beer in the past 30+ days, and there are still 5 beers left in the refrigerator. Drank wine at one event last weekend and was extremely sick from it, so I have no desire to even smell alcohol at this moment.

Simply being alone helps to cut out alcohol, and now I realize that I really do like being alone more than not. By going through this healing process, being alone is the best thing for me right now; otherwise, it’s like opening old wounds that never heal and continuing unhealthy habits that further self-destruct. Being alone allows me to continue learning self-love, establish boundaries, conduct self-reflection, and get shit done for myself. Being sober and alone has taught me that being around people is physically and emotionally draining to me. I’m not even sure I have the right words, but going to those two events over the past few weeks made me feel like I had my “fix” of other humans for a while. To think that I went out several times a week over the past several years… well, no wonder I felt the need to drink just to tolerate other people’s energy. That’s how sensitive I am about energies, so until I feel that I’m healed, I need to be alone.

During self-reflection, I recognized that I had lowered myself to fit in with low-energy people around me – whether it was out of acceptance, loneliness, wanting to be loved, or just being worn down – and I had essentially been torturing myself through awful relationships and abusing my body with alcohol to numb all of the shit that has happened over several years. This is something I’m still working on, still healing from – a learning process, because taking the time to unlearn this doesn’t happen overnight.

Coming to terms with recognizing that I have essentially been an alcoholic over the past few years, if not longer, is difficult to admit. By definition, my actions were fitting the bill, even though I was telling myself it was temporary and “only a few times a week.” There came a time (a few times) that I knew things were not working for me at all due to alcohol, so I’d slowed down, but living in a tourist town with lots of drinking and friends who like to drink can make that difficult. It’s not just the temptation, but more of a social lifestyle to hit happy hour a few times a week or binge on weekends. But I don’t want to do that anymore. It’s not only boring to me, but completely unhealthy physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I am done feeling like complete and total shit in all of these aspects of my life, and getting older is probably a catalyst to that.

Besides clouding my judgment and ruining my body, I decided that alcohol has not only been a huge culprit for so much pain in my life, but the culprit for bringing people into my life that have caused tremendous pain, and I certainly don’t need that shit in my life anymore. I have way too many things going for me at the moment, and distractions such as those are exactly why I choose to be alone for now.

What 2020 Did For Me

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This year has been tough for a lot of people, and I am thankful that I made it through with a roof over my head and food in my belly. I truly feel for those that are having a tough time with that right now, because security and comfort is such an important part of well-being, especially for children.

So much has happened since my last post… and not so much. Some things I can’t talk about… and some things I can. Clearing out unwanted and unneeded “stuff” – both physically and mentally – has probably been what 2020 has been all about for me – and that is a blessing.

This has been a year of healing, especially after having two surgeries last year. The aging process is difficult to grasp until it actually happens. When I had my major surgery 15 months ago, I had planned on being back to normal within a couple of months. In my mind, I could still recuperate like I did 20 years ago.

“HAHAHAHA!!!” laughed The Universe. “You’re not in your 20s anymore!”

It took pretty much an entire year for my entire body to feel somewhat normal again, even though I was told it’s a two-month recovery. I call bullshit on that, because I am extremely body aware and feel every cell that aches or isn’t up to par. My normally active lifestyle wasn’t as active as I’d planned for 2020, and getting back into shape took much longer than I was used to. Coming to terms with aging and knowing things WILL be going downhill physically from here on out is really difficult to process. It’s definitely a bit depressing, because my mind is stronger than ever, but my body is limiting, which is something I am not used to. This has been one of the biggest realizations in 2020 that I’d been silently denying. When something big happens, it’s an entirely new perception of life. Until it happens to you, you won’t fully understand it.

Besides physical healing, emotional healing has also been on the plate. Doing a lot of writing here has helped sort out my mind and emotions, notice patterns, and find ways to do something about it. Certain things still do trigger me to no extent, but those are things I am still dealing with. The worst part is knowing that some things may never be recoverable. Eliminating toxic people has been one of the best things I could do for myself. I’ve gone back to meditating, which of course is always helpful in any situation. I feel that my emotional healing has helped me physically, which brings me to something else…

I have drastically cut back on drinking, making me feel better overall, and being home and not around people helps with that. October was the 4-year anniversary of a friend’s passing – a friend who died from complications of alcoholism at the age of 44. At this very moment of writing, another friend’s brother (49) is literally on his death bed due to alcoholism, and by the time I publish this, he may no longer be here. Then there’s my mother’s neighbor (50s) with yellow skin and a damaged spleen – all due to alcoholism and looking at his life ending very soon, and one with lots of regrets. That’s enough in itself for me to deter drinking; however, my craving has been going away altogether, and I’m glad. More self-reflection made me realize that I was drinking away emotions so I didn’t have to remember painful things or because I simply didn’t have the support or know how to deal with them. Of course, with that comes a cycle of bullshit that never works.

My home is super small, and I only have one closet for everything I own, so having more than that makes my place look cluttered – which gives me anxiety and makes me unproductive with ADD-like symptoms. I have either sold or gave away so many things I’ve accumulated, and each time I do, I literally take a deep breath, because I can breathe again! Just clearing off my coffee table enables me to breathe deeply, so I’ve learned that clutter of all sorts can no longer be a part of my life if I want to be happy and productive.

Learning to stand up for myself to anyone, no matter who, is a part of a lifelong lesson since childhood. Transparency about certain people, whether or not I’ve written about them here, as well as clarity about certain things I’ve brought into my adult life from childhood that have come up recently. These are things to talk about another time.

Focusing on goals and organizing my thoughts and life in general has been a major part of this year. Putting my own needs first is always a learning experience, because out of habit, I still find myself catering to others. I suppose it’s my nurturing motherly instinct – BUT – I am getting better at it by simply saying no or by doing my own thing or nothing at all.

Even though 2020 has brought a lot of things for me, there are still a few days left that I’m sure will give more to write about before the New Year.

What has 2020 brought for you?

Cutting Back on Alcohol

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A few weeks or so ago, I’d written about changing some things in my life. Today is Day 20 of no drinking/cutting back on alcohol. It was something I intended to do, but the losing my shit incident was a catalyst.

I started out being on antibiotics, which was a great way to begin my not-drinking voyage. I have to admit the first few days were tough, because I’d been working outside in the heat, and beer sounded great, but I knew the medication would have made me sick anyway.

Once I got through the first week, it wasn’t so bad. I started keeping myself busy working out or taking walks in the evenings. I went grocery shopping and ran errands during the times I would normally have gone to happy hour. It probably helped that I didn’t exactly have the money to be going out.

Week two was a success, however, I thought I would feel better. I haven’t felt that much better except that I didn’t have hangovers. I was tired, but in a different way; I felt exhausted. My appetite began to change, and I was cooking again, and I had more motivation mentally and could think clearer. Still, I had no energy for the most part (could very well have been due to the antibiotics). The weather brought on some allergy issues, and it felt as if fibromyalgia was full-blown for a few days. My body was super achy from head to toe, and I remembered that when I drank beer, the aches would disappear. I did notice anxiety went down a little while I wasn’t drinking, maybe because I was just exhausted. My mood was only slightly lifted, but I was still feeling depressed. Perhaps it was lack of human contact or something else, but I was craving not being depressed, which is part of the reason I quit/cut back on drinking.

On Day 15, the weather was pretty bad. I had one beer in the fridge (one that I normally wouldn’t drink, because it would have been gone by now) that I drank and didn’t really care for it. The following day (16), I met up with some friends that are getting married soon to discuss some things about their wedding that I’m shooting. It was nice getting out of the house for once and home by 10:30. I had three beers in two and a half hours, felt high as a kite, and felt like shit the entire next day. Two of the beers were relatively normal in alcohol content, but the first may have been almost like drinking two. I remembered how much I hated waking up feeling completely unrested, having to get up to pee at wee hours, thirsty and unable to get back to sleep, and basically being unable to fully function intellectually with unclear thinking skills the following day. I also noticed my allergies were worse. Three beers was almost nothing for me before; it only took two weeks for that effect.

When the weekend rolled around, I went to an event out of town, and then a new friend/acquaintance offered to meet up for sushi. At first, I was hesitant being unfamiliar with him, but I was hungry, and the timing was perfect. I started out drinking water, had a tiny bit of sake and opted for a beer that I normally really like. However, I wasn’t liking the beer much at all and switched it to something sweet. It was nice to be out having conversation and a meal with someone, and I left feeling generally content, yet tired.

The following day, I noticed my mood was off. I felt sad, even though it was a nice day. (I suppose I could have also been sad about my other male friend.) Again, my energy was low and I had little motivation, but I didn’t feel like I had a hangover or anything. I was burping up the beer the next day, which made me not want to drink it even more, especially after nearly 12 hours passed since I’d drank it… just gross. I felt annoyed all day and canceled plans to go to an art event, because I didn’t want to be around people. I don’t know if this is a result from drinking or just being tired or annoyed.

Doing two experiments of having a few drinks after not drinking showed me that it really doesn’t bring me any happiness, especially the following day. Socially, it can be fun, but I am pretty sure I can find other fun things to do.

People were asking how long I was going to stop drinking. I never had an answer, because I tried to make realistic expectations and just go with the flow with how I felt. I have no cravings to continue doing it, and after feeling as bad as I have been, I don’t looking forward to it again. Eventually, I want to get back into eating a stricter diet, but for now I’m doing one thing at a time; I’m still enjoying chocolate chip cookies for now.

Raped By a Drunk Cowboy

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Call it what you want – sexual assault, sexual coercion, rape – it’s WRONG.

Submitted by: Anonymous

There was a guy in town some of us knew as “Drunk Cowboy” because he frequented local bars, wore  a cowboy hat, and sang karaoke. I assumed he was probably an alcoholic, because he got loud in the establishments and started acting pretty stupid. I’d spoken to him a few times, and we had mutual acquaintances. Most women thought he was a good looking guy, but he had too many issues for my taste and totally not my type.

One evening I went to happy hour and Drunk Cowboy sat next to me. We chatted a bit and he picked up my tab, which I thought was nice. By the time I was ready to leave, I realized I needed to call an Uber, because I was too tipsy to drive. Drunk Cowboy offered me a ride, since he was heading in my direction. I obliged, thinking nothing of it, because in a small town, people often give each other rides. Plus, I hadn’t heard anything bad about him from anyone else.

I realized I was hungry when we got to my place, so I invited him in for some pizza I was going to cook. There was nothing strange about the encounter. There was no flirting (at least I didn’t see it), no kissing, no touching. It was simply two people sharing a pizza and shooting the shit.

Drunk Cowboy decided he was too drunk to leave, so I agreed for him to sleep on the other side of my bed. I kept my clothing on completely – long pants and a long-sleeved shirt. I recall falling asleep quickly, as I was exhausted and the alcohol made me more tired. At some point – and I’m unsure of how long I’d been asleep, I awoke to Drunk Cowboy feeling me up and attempting to take my pants off. I tried moving my body around, moving his hands away, saying no. I recall saying “no, no, no, please no” over and over. I know he heard me, but he ignored me. I had no intention of having sex with him or anything else. I wasn’t turned on. He wouldn’t stop, and I was too weak to fight him off. He was on top of me holding my legs down with either his legs or hand, I coudn’t tell. He entered me, had sex with me for a few minutes, came inside of me, rolled over, put his clothes back on, and went back to sleep.

At first I thought I was having a nightmare, but it was real, and I couldn’t get back to sleep. I lay there stunned and not knowing what to do. I felt like a wounded animal and blamed myself for allowing someone I barely knew into my home and bed. I blamed myself, because I was too drunk to fight back.

The day after it happened, I didn’t leave my house. I couldn’t take a long enough hot shower to wash away the awful feelings. I worried about having an STD. I had bruises on my inner thigh that appeared to be a handprint. I felt like total shit. I canceled a date a day or so later that I had been looking forward to, because I couldn’t face anyone or be myself. I felt numb. I stopped shaving for a few weeks until I couldn’t stand it anymore – but I knew no one would be feeling my legs or anything else anytime soon. I wanted no one to touch me. I was just healing from other issues in my life. This set me back again, I felt. I told one trusted friend, because I had to get it out, but no one else until now.

I haven’t seen or heard from Drunk Cowboy again, although we don’t have each other’s phone numbers either. I have avoided the last place I saw him and any other places I may see him. I really have nothing to say to him, because I’m pretty sure he’s the type of guy that would either say it was consensual or just deny it. I really don’t care if I ever see him again. But I do wonder if he’s done this to anyone else in my town.

Excerpt from Unheard: a Memoir – Chapter 7

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Excerpt from Unheard: a Memoir – Chapter 7 – told from a child’s point of view

Marcus makes up lies about everything. At first Mom doesn’t believe him, but he has a way of manipulating and convincing her that the sky is green, even though it’s blue. If she doesn’t believe him, they fight all night. It is a never-ending battle with him.

“See? See? That kid is making us fight again!” he tells her.

When I was eight years old, Marcus accused me of calling him a son of a bitch, which was a lie. He claimed he’d heard me say it when he was in his garbage truck one day when I was on my way to school with Rebekah. Passing him on our bikes and waving, we yelled, “Hi Marcus!”

But he ignored us. Instead, when I got home from school he claimed that one of the guys on the truck heard me call him a son of a bitch. No matter how much I swore that I never said that, and his story changed from one of the guys hearing it to hearing it himself, I was still in trouble. It didn’t matter what the truth was.

The truth was this: I hadn’t called him a son of a bitch at all; I actually called him an asshole, and it was under my breath so that no one could hear me. But I wasn’t about to tell him that.

* * * * *

I walk in from school and go to my room. I notice something on my bed – on my pillow. A gift? I am excited until I realize what it is.

“What is that on my pillow!?” I storm out of my room, down the steps.

I look at Mom.

“What’s on your pillow?” She is clueless.

“There’s a maxi pad on my pillow!” I yell.

Mom thinks it’s a joke, looks at Marcus.

“Did you put a pad on her pillow, Marcus?” Mom asks, puzzled.

“You left it on the bathroom floor. I stepped on it and blood came gushing out,” he lies. “I almost got sick.”

“You’re a liar!” I scream. “A big, disgusting liar! I hate you!”

I storm back to my room. He is the biggest liar I’ve ever known. There is no blood on it at all, but it doesn’t matter what the truth is even if the evidence is in plain view. I don’t think Mom believes him, either, because she knows I am not on my period. But instead of speaking up to him, she tells me not to worry about it.

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Excerpt from Unheard: a Memoir – Chapter 4

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Excerpt from Unheard: a Memoir – told from a child’s point of view

I liked visiting Nana, but I didn’t like Grampa because he was grouchy and said weird things and repeated himself. Every time I saw him, his funny white fuzzy hair on top of his head looked like he just woke up. He wore plaid shorts and either a white t-shirt or a button up collared shirt if he were going somewhere, and he always had a glass of beer in his hand. I don’t think he liked kids much, either, because he yelled at me a lot.

“He’s a drunken jerk,” Gramma said.

He wasn’t her real father. She never knew her real father.

On our way back from Nana’s, Gramma took me to visit my Great Aunt Gabby. She owned a neurotic poodle that always jumped up and scratched my legs, barked incessantly, and peed on the floor. She was a very intelligent woman that enjoyed crossword puzzles and playing her piano, but she was always nervous and she seemed to shake a lot. Gramma said Aunt Gabby never left the house after dark because she was afraid of getting raped.

Aunt Gabby seemed very tall compared to Gramma, and she always wore white flat old lady shoes and flowery dresses that looked like nightgowns. I thought she might be pregnant because her belly stuck out even though she was skinny everywhere else.

“Is Aunt Gabby going to have a baby?” I asked Gramma.

Gramma laughed, “Noooo….”

“Why does her belly stick out like that?”

“That’s what happens when you get old.”

I overheard that one time Aunt Gabby had a baby and lost it, and I figured maybe that was why her belly still stuck out. It was lost somewhere in her belly.

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