i’m not thin. i need a haircut. i’m wearing jammies with the butt torn open.

from me:

when i think of how hard it is to admit that we need help (or encouragement, or cheerleading), when i think of how much bravery it takes to show up, raise your hand, and say “can someone help me with this,” when i think of how easy it is to listen to the lying voice in your head — well, it really is a miracle that we’re here, doing this online sober support thing. together. you and me.

i know, i send out emails, i do lots of cheering. and then sometimes I get a message that really reminds me — fully and fundamentally — that this makes a difference.

and i think: would I do what she’s doing? would i email a stranger? (that stranger being me). then i wonder if there’s anything about what i’m doing that makes it seem easier for you to share. if there is, of course, i’m unaware.

i think of the anonymous part of this — how much easier it is to do this with ‘words’ and not with instagram-worthy-glamour-shots of how FANTASTIC my life is. which is all a bunch of bullshit anyway. i’m not thin. i need a haircut. i’m wearing jammies with the butt torn open (my new ones – well, i don’t like them much, but don’t tell my husband, i wear them so that his feelings aren’t hurt, but i like my air conditioned ass-less ones better). i haven’t done any christmas baking. i haven’t cooked a meal yet this week.

but i show up, every day. there is consistency here in a way that our regular life often lacks. i didn’t realize the consistency would be important. i didn’t realize that your shitty childhood would make it seem like we share something fundamental. i have landed here, on this side of the screen, by accident. i suggested to someone that instead of trying to quit forever, that she quit for 100 days and then see how she liked it. and now it’s 6 years later.

i don’t know what’s making me so ‘thoughtful’ this morning. maybe it’s christmas. or finally being on vacation from job #1 in a way that makes my head open up. i’m about to trudge off to the grocery store (saturday before christmas? are you crazy?) and pick up a small chicken to roast, some canned tomatoes and fresh basil to make lasagne, and my husband asked for some raw coconut (which tastes like cardboard, but whatever).

happy saturday to you. the day after the shortest day of the year for the northern hemisphere. each day getting brighter. we show up. we do the thing. we are open to possibilities. we stop planning so much and wait to see how we feel when we get there.

today i feel like sloth but i’m going to make one kind of cookie. maybe shortbreads. i’m going to buy apples. i’m going to read my book. i’m going to be very happy to be off the booze elevator because i’ve ruined plenty of christmases with alcohol, and this year will not be one of them. this year i may be lazy, wearing old clothes, with bad hair. but i’ll have a gift that is better than all that combined.

le huglets from me



this is painting #277 here.


I want to put this online, to hold myself accountable. I want to document the noise in my head. I'm tired of thinking about drinking. date of last drink: june 30, 2012