Life has been plodding along here at Chez Rainbow.
My days have been filled with little and littler kids, Citizen Cope (Thanks, NICKY PIE!) and much, much thinking.
I think all non-alcoholics are resigned to days and days of thinking. I spend much more time alone than I ever did, and the bizarre thing is, I prefer to be that way somedays. On days when I do venture out, sometimes I wonder why I did.
When I joined some friends for St. Patrick’s Day, I was insulted as I left our place de party. “Wear some more makeup, Barbie Doll!” a drunk Kwaj Kid hurled at me. I looked at him quizzically, decided it wasn’t worth the trouble of explaining that I had a lot of make-up on because 1.) my eye looked like shit from the cat scratch on the eyball and I was trying to cover up. 2.) I like looking like a whore/Barbie Doll, and just walked on. But I have seriously low patience for people who get drunk and act like asses, although I was one of them, and happily one of them for many, many years.
Let me rephrase. There’s a difference between people who use liquor to unleash their general assiness to the rest of the world and people who drink and get silly. People who get drunk and are vindictive, spiteful, and presidents of the “Hi! My name is _____ and I am the President of the Asshole club.” should just put down the bottle. Hi, My name is Alex. I’d think that I felt angry about this because I have expounded on it long enough, but I don’t. He’ll stub his toe and I’ll know why.
My sponsor asked me if I was depressed. I don’t think I am, but I think that my actions would suggest otherwise. I sleep. I don’t want to talk to you, or you, or you. I’d rather just sit by myself. I think that I am fortunate to work with kids. I have one little friend who will come and press his face against mine, nose to nose and smile at me as big as he can. When we have those moments, my heart feels big and heavy and happy and full.
My relationships with people have been changing so quickly that sometimes I look behind me, wonder why I haven’t talked to that person and realize that I never sought them out. I unraveled their strings from my wrist and watched them float away, into the distance. Now I stand with my finger around one or two strings, holding my closer friends loosely, wondering if they’ll be gone soon, too.
Dh is wrapped precariously around my finger, ever looser. I love him to death, but struggle with some of the dynamics of our relationship. For the first time in my life, I feel INDEPENDENT. For years I NEEDED somebody to be there, and at times was so desperate, it didn’t matter who it was - male, female, alien. Now, I CHOOSE who I would like to be with (and if I am fortunate, they choose to be with me as well), but our relationships have changed because I no longer need them. It’s a hard thing to describe, but accounts for my self-imposed solitary confinement.
Some of my friends ignore my sojourn into the land of SINGLE, and that’s okay, too. It’s how they show me that they don’t give up on me. They drag me where I don’t want to go, get me to talk when I’d rather listen, and hug me when I don’t want to be touched.
It’s been a strange trip, these 90 days of sobriety. But unlike real life, there’s a shiny coin at the end of this rainbow.
I’m not going to give up on you either. There will come a time when you will want to come back out of your shell, and your real friends will still be here. I think what you are doing is great, and a little solitude is probably a good thing for you right now. Just know I am still here whenever you feel that you need a friend or want to talk. And thanks for blogging about this whole experience you are going through. It is honest, revealing, and makes me understand you more.