Monthly Archives: October 2019

Same as it ever was…

This “blog” is basically a microcosm of other journals in which I talk about how I need to stop drinking and never do. I literally have a decade’s worth. Some are hand-written. Some are typed. Some are completely electronic. All are repetitive laments about my relationship with alcohol.

There used to be relationship woes peppered in but at 42, I am pretty clear that the most toxic relationship I had was the one with myself. I had little to no self-esteem in my twenties. I had no idea who I was or what I wanted. What I knew is that generally, when I was drinking, I was pretty fun.

In my thirties, I began to feel more secure in who I am. Not completely, but the whole decade was a climb. I became a mom at 34. I figured that would be the end of drinking and smoking. But clearly I was wrong. I’m a musician, dammit. And when I play at bars, I’m drinking. Yay. Hi-five. Incoherent yell. Selfie.

This continued on into my forties and here we are. I’ve successfully cut down a bit. I don’t go out as much as I was. This turned into me drinking more at home. I’ve tried to curtail that and it kind of works. I broke up with wine because now I keep blacking out whenever I drink it. So I’m sticking with White Claws because I don’t get too crazy with them. When I drink, I want to chain smoke. The two go hand in hand and I get this grindy manic obsession where I have to be doing both of those things at all times.

I’m not sure why people even want to hang out with me because I’m always “going outside for a smoke”. I want to sit outside and chain smoke and drink. And it’s all like nervous energy. Sometimes I’m relaxed and enjoying myself but mostly… mostly it’s me trying to quell my anxiety about being out in the first place.

I think I mentioned that my therapist said I approach my problems in a very cerebral way. I know why I do things. I’ve drilled down to find the causes and reasons for my problematic behaviors. I’m good at it. What I’m not good at is finding the FEELINGS attached to those reasons. And my disinterest (or aversion) to feelings also leads me to numb myself (drink). See? I just did it again.

My face is starting to look it’s age. I’ve always looked younger than I am. My skin looks terrible. I don’t remember nights anymore. Who knows what a nightmare person I have been. I’m a middle aged woman for crying out loud. I need more gentleness in my life.

Particles

I’m not really sure what to do lately. I feel mentally constipated. I have lots of things I want to do and when I sit down to do one, it’s like a traffic jam and nothing comes out. Lately, my cure for that has been sleeping. SUper productive.

I did a Tarot spread yesterday about self-care. The Biddy Tarot planner has some really great spreads to do throughout the year. I find the process to be really helpful in honing some focus. So, the reading revealed that I am feeling a bit spiritually anemic and that I would do well in a deeper spiritual dive. I agree. I think even doing that reading was a step in the right direction.

I also focused on how I’m not feeling very inspired right now. Like, I feel it rumbling beneath but nothing is coming forth. Like when you can’t orgasm. Right? Ew. But exactly the same. The whole thing becomes tiresome and you’re like just forget it, I’m going to sleep. Hahhahaha.

I’m having a hard time focusing at work. I’m at work right now, for example. I just feel like I’m floating and I pretty much only want to be in bed. I don’t feel sad really. I feel like a bunch of disconnected particles.

I’ve been feeling a strong pull to sit with music for a while. I haven’t written a song in like 2 years. My catalog of songs is all over the place. I feel like it might be nice to have a list. Also, I have a pretty delicate shell as an artist. I love working with people and exchanging energy but people’s personalities have a habit of overwhelming me and taking over so I lose sight of my own vision. Many times, it’s not ill-intentioned. But I become completely drained and I stop being able to produce anything. Then I go back to wanting to be alone.

I feel like that is a pretty good analysis of me in general. I’m enormously sensitive to other people’s energy and I can become flattened by it.

Coolsculpting

On Sunday, I had Coolsculpting done on my fat neck. As a 110 lb teenager, I had a double chin. As a… more pounds adult, it’s unbearable. This is not something I talk about. It is so upsetting and bothersome to me that I rarely ever even vocalize it. I’ll complain loudly about my pudgy stomach or wobbly arms, but I simply never speak about the chin.

I remember beginning to feel horrified when I was in middle school (or jr. high” as we called it). You know, the time when girls become aware of every perceived flaw on their bodies because of societal pressure, unrealistic standards of beauty, and other asshole kids who are dealing with their own insecurities by making fun of their classmates? That time? Yeah. That time.

I remember quickly going from happily stumbling along in life as a pudgy 12 year old who still played with Barbies to a wreck of a person who would never, ever, ever be good enough. There was a picture. My chin basically went from my jaw down to the middle of my chest. I am exaggerating but it’s like this horrible straight line. It’s hereditary for me on BOTH SIDES which is GREAT. I don’t see it in my whole family though. I notice it mostly on me.

So a friend had gotten Coolsculpting on their love handle area and survived so I started looking into it for my fat neck. I watched a bunch of videos of girls who barely had any fat under their chin getting the procedure. It seemed do-able. I’ve considered going in for a facelift which is ridiculously expensive and can thin out your skin and make you look like a mummified cat. So, in comparison, I figured what the heck. Let’s try this. I’ll try anything to not hate my fucking reflection.

So I went in. They attached an icy vacuum to one side of my neckchin for 45 minutes and then repeated on the other side. It was a little weird and uncomfortable but man, I had a C-Section. It was fine. 3 days later I have a weird numb tingly sensation if I touch the area but other than that, it’s not bad. It’s a very similar feeling to the nerve regeneration in my C-Section scar. It’s more strange than painful.

I’ve been bingeing on more videos of people who have had this procedure and also googling the shit out of “before and after” pictures. I’m gonna be honest, a lot of the results are minimal. That being said, the videos I watched showed women whose preoccupation with that area on their body I can relate with and they seemed to be really happy.

I won’t see results for a month or so. I’m trying to keep within my Weight Watchers points in the mean time. OMG and we have a new dog! I will update on that separately because I feel like a big piece of me has been lit up again. The reason I bring that up is because I’ve been walking a lot. Not great distances but I’m moving more than I was which is a step (HAHAHAH) in the right direction. I’m hilarious.

So yeah. I’m going to be patient with my numb chin. I hope to see results. If I see even a little, I’m not opposed to getting a second session. I’m getting ahead of myself.

Happy Autumn. It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

Sober October

l’m always trying to come up with some sort of gimmick to help me make better lifestyle choices. Sober October is no different. I’m going to try it. I have several things on my calendar that will be challenging but I’m gonna give it a shot.

This is my power season so I don’t need anything to dull me out. I need to tap in. Once again, I am already scrambling toward excused days. Apparently some people raise money for a charity while not drinking. I’m not sure I’m ready to take it to that level of sharing and sponsorship. Mainly because it’s terrifying. I don’t have a big level of trust in myself.

I would love to know how it feels to have good sleep and not wake up late and exhausted. Also, I caught a glimpse of myself in a reflection at the store the other day and it was really alarming. I looked old.