Dry January seems like a good time for this post. Anyone still on board with Dry January? I tried doing it a couple years back. I think I made it a day or two before saying “Eff this. I’m having a drink”. After that, I never thought about quitting alcohol again. I had at least one drink a day…maybe two…honestly, probably more depending on how heavy my pour was. I would sit at work thinking about what I was going to pour when I got home.
And then….I accidentally quit. Nothing happened. I didn’t have a huge epiphany. Or get a DUI. My therapist and I didn’t talk about it. I just stopped. It was around Halloween. I went a day without and then slept really well…and thought to myself…hmm…I’m going to see how long I can go without. No real goal in mind. Just an experiment really at that point. Since then I’ve had a glass of wine at Thanksgiving and a beer on Christmas…and that’s it. At Thanksgiving it was hard to stop with just one glass…at Christmas I honestly didn’t even want the beer, but we needed the bottle for a baking project and sacrifices had to be made…lol
Since then I’ve thought a lot about what my reasons are…because they were there the whole time…stewing in the back of my mind. I think it all comes down to one thing…I didn’t want alcohol to be part of my story anymore…my identity. I have been working so hard at not wearing masks all the time…being true to myself…to my heart. Alcohol was just another mask…and I finally felt like I was ready to be rid of it.
I was beginning to feel like I needed to drink to unwind…relax…be fun…smile…laugh…take the edge off…feel normal…fit in…feel something…feel nothing. The past few months I’ve realized that is all bullshit. I’ve laughed so hard with my kids that they have looked at me and said “are you sure there’s not alcohol in that?” I’ve felt more free to do what I want to do when I want to do it. I’m not limited by being “sober enough to drive”. I feel good. I’m sleeping better. I feel more ME. If there are people that I feel like I need to drink with in order to fit in or for them to like me…well, then…those aren’t my people.
I’m by no means anti-drinking. I’m not bothered by people drinking around me. I’m sure that I’ll drink again…here and there…but it will be at times of my choosing….because I WANT to…not because I feel like I NEED to. A cold beer on a hot day by a lake? Hells yeah. Bourbon by a campfire? Count me in. An old-fashioned…maybe two…on Jason’s birthday? Yup. But, for the most part, I’m good with my tonic and cranberry.
***This is part 2 of Alice’s story which began here: Imagine…
Alice had barely started on her journey when she came upon a cave. She was very frightened of caves because bats often lived inside of them…a creature she had been terrified of since she was a child. Alice couldn’t ignore this cave though…something about it was tugging at her…like a cord to her belly button. She HAD to stop at the cave before she could continue on her journey…even though she really, really didn’t want to. She took a deep breath and gave herself a good talking to about how every good journey has some scary bits…and she needs to be brave on her adventure. Then she walked to the mouth of the cave and yelled, “Hello! Is anybody in there?” She was expecting to hear her own voice echoing back at her…and she did…but it surprised her by saying “Alice…Alice…Alice”.
Her instincts pulled her so strongly. Can you imagine?
Alice was so startled that she sat down by the mouth of the cave…off to the side…just in case she had awoken any bats. How could she be in the cave if she was sitting right here? Was there someone in the cave that she knew? She couldn’t think who it could possibly be. Alice knew there would be no moving ahead until she solved the mystery of the cave. She stood up…crept a little bit further into the cave…and yelled even louder, “Who are you?” And again the answer was the same, “Alice…Alice…Alice”.
Alice was so confused. Can you imagine?
Her fear of bats living in the cave had lessened somewhat in the face of this new conundrum….and the curiosity that flowed through Alice. She reasoned that if there were bats in the cave they would have flown out by now, but just in case she pulled her hoodie up over her head as she walked fully into the pitch-black coolness of the cave. The sound of her heart beating was loud in her ears…her breaths rasped in and out of her lungs…her palms were sweaty…as she faced her fear head on.
Alice needed to be so brave, all by herself. Can you imagine?
It was so dark in the cave that at first she couldn’t see anything…not even her own hand in front of her face. However, she could sense that she wasn’t alone. As her eyes slowly adjusted…pupils dilated wide to take in all available light…she was able to discern figures in the dark. As she was able to make out more and more detail she realized that they were all females of various ages. More than that they were all the same person. They were all her.
She found herself in the dark. Can you imagine?
Alice was surrounded by her past selves at a variety of ages…toddler Alice, 2nd grade Alice, 10 year old Alice, etc. All of these Alice’s were sad…hurt…dejected…lonely. Some of them had been in the cave for a very, very long time…some maybe a few months…or even a week. When they saw her, they reached for her. Hope sparked in their eyes as they said, “Alice you are here for us at last! Please take us with you on your journey! We have been waiting for you for so long, but we knew you would come!”
Alice’s past selves were so happy to be seen by her. Can you imagine?
And all at once, Alice realized where she was. She had entered the Cave of the Unspoken. The place where she had stored all of her hurt, pain, anger, shame, guilt over the years. Every “bad” emotion that she didn’t know how to handle. None of them had actually gone away. They had just retreated into the Cave of the Unspoken and waited for her to find them again. To rediscover the parts of herself that she had hidden away.
All of her pain was just waiting for her. Can you imagine?
And now, as Alice stood in the Cave, she felt all of those emotions come rushing at her like a tsunami. They were so powerful that she dropped to the floor of the cave and pulled herself into a ball. And as she lay there…like a turtle in its shell…she took a few deep breaths and grounded herself in the present moment. Felt the floor of the cave underneath her. Wiggled her fingers and toes. Opened her eyes to see the minute grains of sand and larger pebbles on the ground. She took a pause…and then worked her hand over her heart…so she could feel the love/grief beating there. It reminded her of her strength…her yearning for life…to be whole again…to feel unbounded joy again. She knew that if she was going to continue on this journey, all of her Alice’s needed to come with her.
Alice was overwhelmed by all the strong emotion. Can you imagine?
And so Alice stood up. Felt her boots firm against the cave floor…braced herself against the storm…and reached out her hand. One by one, the Alice’s stepped forward and touched their palms to hers. Alice felt a brief pleasure/pain running up her arm each time…then one by one the Alice’s disappeared until she was standing in the Cave alone. Tears ran down her cheeks as she thought of how long the Alice’s had been in the Cave waiting for her. She felt remorse for hiding them away for so long, but vowed that she would give every one of them the attention that they deserved.
She welcomed all her past selves back into her body. Can you imagine?
She stepped out of the Cave and into the light. The sun was overwhelmingly bright in her eyes after being in the dark of the Cave for so long. She blinked her eyes furiously as they watered and stung. Her vision blurred. When it finally cleared she looked up again to the mountain and renewed her dedication to her journey. Then she looked down at her palm…the one that all the Alice’s had touched…and she realized what the pleasure/pain had been. Every Alice had settled into her skin in the form of a tattoo. Her arm was now etched with the outline of a beautiful phoenix. Every feather an Alice. And she smiled as she took another step.
Today is the last day of 2024. I took an impromptu day off work to spend some time by myself. I woke up this morning and did my usual morning writing….took the dogs for a walk…and then headed down to Northfield. I spent some time walking along the river and then poked around my favorite bookstore and yarnshop. Now I’m sitting in a coffee shop in front of a fireplace…reflecting on the year.
2024 was a memorable one for me. It was the year I hit rock bottom. When my despair…grief…sadness…loneliness…all became so heavy, and yet so familiar, that it was easier to just lay at the bottom of the hole by myself than try to get up again. I was going through all the motions of living…but inside I felt nothing. And then halfway through 2024 that all began to change for me. I know I talk about my therapist all the time, but she made all the difference in my life.
The second half of 2024 was all about rediscovering who I am now and learning to love that person and trust and depend on her. It’s been full of tears…a lot of tears…so many tears. But also hope…real smiles…belly laughs…so many good times with my kids, family, and friends…and good times by myself.
I’ve been working on being more true to what my heart needs and less worried about trying to make everyone else happy. I’m learning to value true and genuine relationships based on mutual trust and emotional connection. I’m learning my own self-worth and confidence in myself as a person. I drive a Bronco and I love her….she helps me feel like I have a partner in this life against a world that often tries to beat me down. I love wearing overalls, Doc Marten boots, and winter caps. I order tonic water with cranberry juice when I go out because I stopped drinking. Music makes my soul happy and also helps me connect with my kids. Nature helps me feel connected to myself…all other living things…the Universe…God. I am a writer…even when I’m not writing…I think in words…poems…stories. Grief will always live inside of me, but that doesn’t feel like a bad thing anymore.
When I look at my future. I see a journey…an adventure…chapters unwritten…and that feels exciting…like something I should stick around for.
Christmas Morning. Got out of bed early…in the pitch black. Coffee on to brew…fed the dogs…started hashbrowns in the crockpot for brunch…Anna will be happy! Coffee in hand. Sat at my desk. Lit a candle. Dogs followed….curled up for morning naps…snoring…snoring…snoring. They know the morning drill. Ink flies from pen on journal pages. Thoughts and emotions turned into words and released.
But this morning…Christmas morning…my emotions are sticky. They demand more than a quick acknowledgement in my journal. I’m sad. I’m lonely. I miss Jason. I miss our Christmases past. The joy. The magic. The way we would work together to create a Holiday our kids loved…from the perfect gifts, thoughtfully chosen…to favorite foods…to favorite people to celebrate with. We were the perfect compliment to each other. When I got stressed…he would be right there to help me. The number of times he would say, “Ree, make a list!” and then he would be right there crossing things off.
Christmas used to be my favorite part of the year. I cherished every moment of it. Jason always had off work for the week between Christmas and New Years. We would spend so much time together. It always felt like the perfect ending of the year….stolen time…magical time. Time I can’t get back…no matter how much I want to.
So this morning…with my coffee growing cold…as the sun is just now coming up…I will give my sadness…loneliness…grief the acknowledgment and care that they need. I gaze upon the flickering flame of my candle and remind myself that Jason’s flame is not gone…just dispersed into the kids and I…and I’ll look for him there today…as I’m grateful that all three of our cubs are safe and happy…and we get to spend the day together. Christmas is forever changed…but it is still a time to be cherished. Merry Christmas!
For the past four years I have marked my personal “start of the Christmas season” by going to the Empty Chair service. It’s really been the same service…the same recycled words all four years…and that’s fine…it’s not the words that I go for. Church isn’t where I find my truth…my God. I don’t need the Bible quoted at me. It’s the “pause”. This year I really, really needed that “pause”. My Mama Bear has been on the verge of frantic. All of my focus has been on Levi. My inner-self that I have been paying so much attention to and rediscovering has been neglected. My mind is working hard all the time to separate his emotions from my emotions…his situation from my situation. I’m exhausted. I really, really needed the time to pause…sit by myself…close my eyes…and come back to myself.
As I was journaling this morning I was reflecting on how this time felt different than the other times…and the word my pen wrote was “comfortable”. After I wrote it, I actually stopped…and wrote “COMFORTABLE, REALLY?????” And then I decided that really was what I meant to write. Comfortable.
You may be thinking right now “well, it’s been over 3 years Marie. A lot of time has passed”. True. Time has passed. But for me…and I would imagine other grieving people as well…time is not part of the process. The process of grieving is much more active and painful than just sitting back and waiting for time to pass and magically heal everything. The process takes time, but time is not part of the process. The process involves facing grief…acknowledging grief…feeling every single bit of the pain. Coming to terms with loss…not only of my partner in my life…but the parts of myself that were his…the parts of our lives together that are gone…relationships with other people that are gone or changed. And then rediscovering a new self…and through that process realizing that grief is love…grief will not go away…grief will always be there…grief is a new constant in my life. I will always be grieving, but I feel comfortable with that because I am not fighting it. When grief comes over me I let it wrap me up like a hug…because that’s what it really is…and when I cry I let the tears roll down my cheeks with abandon because I still feel so much love for Jason that sometimes it just overflows with no where to go…and that’s not going to change.
At the end of the service I went up to the front and lit a candle for Jason. One of the Church team came up to me and asked if she could pray with me. Her eyes were very kind and compassionate…so I said “yes”. I told her that I was there for the 4th year…and a little bit about Jason…and the kids. She did an excellent job of making me feel seen and supported as “love” rolled down my face. And I left there feeling ready for Christmas in my heart…ready to surround myself with my kids…for us to support each other and have fun together…as we have become so good at doing these past years. And Jason will be there with us too…loving every second of it.
Last Wednesday I sat down in my therapist’s office and said, “I’m actually feeling pretty good! I even managed to string a few good days in a row!” And then Levi’s girlfriend of 2 1/2 years broke up with him that afternoon…
Thursday morning I wrote an SOS email to my therapist…”Help! Mama Bear is pacing and huffing. She’s wants to throw her cub up into a nice safe tree and maul somebody”. We talk about my Mama Bear a lot in therapy…so this wasn’t unusual. I went in for an extra therapy session last Friday and got Levi set up with one of my therapist’s colleagues for this week.
I realized as I was talking to my therapist on Friday…trying to get Mama Bear to “stand down” a little bit…that my emotions were so roiling and heightened because my mind wasn’t in the present moment anymore. Seeing my cub in that much pain and feeling helpless to do anything to take it away took me right back in my head to Jason dying. And then my brain was starting to make connections between the two in my head and I was reliving my own initial pain of losing Jason and imagining how Levi was feeling…and let’s just say that Mama Bear was ready to eff somebody up.
Gratefully, my therapist was able to help me talk through all that…help me separate the two events in my head…get Mama Bear to at least breathe and put all 4 of her paws on the ground. She is still on high alert though. It’s hard for her to focus on anything except for the well-being of her cub. If you have a Mama Bear inside, you know what I’m talking about.
I am extremely proud of Levi though. He is really good at seeking out support…either from me…or other people he trusts (shout out to the LT Tennis Desk ladies)…when he needs to talk. While everything sucks right now, I have no doubt that he is going to come out of this experience just fine…and have that much more knowledge about love and relationships to take with him. It’s gonna take awhile for Mama Bear to rest easy though.
On Friday, I was sitting at work…talking to my coworker. As most December conversations go…it was all about getting ready for the holidays. I told her that I hadn’t gotten any of my Christmas stuff out…and really didn’t have the motivation to…but that I was thinking I needed to do a little “something” to try to feel festive. And then I had her rolling in her chair when I said, “I don’t want to go all gung ho…just like…halfway ho”. So “halfway ho” has become my goal for the holiday…and if I overshoot it…well, that’s fine too…but we’re going to start small.
So this weekend I did my best. Yesterday, Anna and I strung lights out on the deck, and I found a little baby poinsettia for my desk. Then she had her Holiday Concert for the community band she is in. I invited a friend to go with me…and it was spectacular…both the company and the music. The band is made up of musicians of all ages….super impressive…all just brought together by their love of music and the desire to keep playing their whole lives. Super inspiring. I will admit that I was grateful that 911 did not have to be called as a couple of the guys had to be 80’s-ish.
All the kids were home for dinner last night…and I called a family meeting to talk about Christmas. I have this thing where I stress out over events because I imagine the kids to have much more expectations than they actually usually do. I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page. And pretty much a successful Christmas for them revolves around food…and playing games. We set aside next Sunday for baking some Christmas cookies and came up with a food plan for Christmas Eve (fondue) and Christmas Day (brunch). All the traditional foods will be prepared…which for us means…overnight French Toast…monkey bread…Danish rolls…cheesy hashbrowns. There was talk of throwing cinnamon rolls in there too…I might need someone to roll me in to work the next day.
So Operation Halfway-Ho is well underway. I woke up this morning feeling good about it. My kids are awesome and thankfully at ages where they step up and help out. From lights on the deck to cinnamon rolls….it’s much more doable and fun with their help.
Yesterday, I sat down in my therapist’s office…on the edge of the couch…leaning forward. I was in full-on fight or flight mode…either ready to rumble or head for the hills. She asked me what was up and I said “I just want to fast-forward past the holidays and land in mid-January”…and I started rambling about every relationship/situation/holiday stressor my head had been trying to figure out. I didn’t get very far in my ramble before she stopped me…told me to shake my whole body out…find my space with my head above my heart…breathe…and listen…not to my head…but to my heart. Once I was able to do that…and it did take awhile…my heart told me quite clearly what to do. I don’t know about you…but the feeling that I get when I make a decision that is right with my heart is incomparable…it is complete peace.
But why is it is hard? It’s because my brain gets in the way and tangles everything up…every single time. My brain is always looking to the outside…seeing everyone else in the scenario…trying and trying and trying…to find perfect solutions…to make sure everyone else gets what they need…that nobody else’s feelings are hurt. My brain puts everyone’s feelings on my shoulders…makes them my responsibility. I become paralyzed with anxiety…unable to make any decision…fight or flight kicks in.
My heart helps me separate the “me problems” from the “them problems”. It helps me realize that sometimes there is not a perfect solution to a situation, but there is always a right solution. And as long as I am doing what feels right in my heart, any hurt feelings other people have is a “them problem”…because my heart isn’t going to let me ruthlessly hurt people that I care about…not if I’m really listening to it.
Now the trick is to be able to make heart-made decisions at home by myself and not just on my therapist’s couch!
Once upon a time. There was a fish. Her name is really unimportant to the story, but let’s call her Alice. She lived in the ocean with her husband and their children. As you might imagine, the ocean was a very beautiful place to live. Filled with the bluest of blues…the greenest of greens. There were forests to explore made of coral and kelp. Alice loved the life they built in the ocean. She felt safe…happy…content. They had many friends and family close by, but most importantly, they had each other. She felt blessed to have such a good life with her husband by her side.
But that doesn’t make a good story. Does it?
Then, one day tragedy struck and Alice’s husband was killed in the prime of his life. Alice was heartbroken. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe anymore. Her gills were making the same motions they usually did, but she was gasping and choking. In a frantic effort to get air into her lungs she swam for the surface and soon found herself flapping, helplessly, on the beach of an island. Where once she had gills on the sides of her neck, her fins now met smooth scales. She gulped air into her mouth to fill her lungs. It worked to keep her alive, but felt strange and foreign. She had to think about each breath filling and releasing in her lungs. What once had been effortless, now took every part of her concentration.
Thinking about every breath. Can you imagine?
She slipped back into the water and swam back to her ocean home. Her friends and family gathered around her, but it was different now. She was different. Alice looked around at them and saw their gills…working effortlessly. Their lives were still whole with their spouses beside them. They tried to be supportive of her…gave her advice on how to navigate this new gill-less, love-less existence she had thrust upon her…but it was impossible to give good advice about a circumstance they had never experienced themselves. Alice could now only stay in the ocean for short periods of time. She had to return to the island. Just to breathe.
She couldn’t breathe in her home. Can you imagine?
At first, she returned to the ocean often. She tried to fit in as best as she could in her old life with her family and friends. Returned to work. Went out to dinner. But grief for her husband compounded with her lack of gills meant that Alice could never truly fit in. She was not the same as she once was and being around her friends and family was often painful for her. Where the ocean had once been her home, now it was just somewhere she could visit every once in awhile.
She doesn’t fit in anywhere in her old life. Can you imagine?
Alice returned to the shore of the island and spent days…weeks…months…years…staring into the water. She spent her time lost in the memory of what home felt like. Of swimming in the beautiful ocean. Of remembered love from her husband. Of feeling complete…happy…at peace. She wondered what she had done to deserve to have that ripped away from her? Was she not deserving of love like that?
She felt incredibly alone and unworthy of love. Can you imagine?
Every now and again family and friends would swim to the surface to see her. They would visit for a time. Alice would pretend that her life on the island was fine-all the while acutely aware of the gills her family and friends still had…and that they would soon return to their lives in the ocean. Where their home still was..and hers would never…could never be again. And her loneliness grew.
Such unrelieved loneliness, even among people. Can you imagine?
As time went by, Alice realized that other parts of her body were transforming…just like her lungs had. Her fins were becoming arms. Her tail was elongating into legs. These transformations were excruciatingly painful…as the very cells of her body rebuilt themselves. While these adaptations didn’t ease the grief she felt for the loss of her husband and her old life and home, they did help her adapt to life on the island. She no longer had to lay…helpless…on the beach.
Everything about herself had to change, just so she could live. Can you imagine?
Alice rose from the sand and practiced walking on her wobbly, newborn legs. At first she was afraid to stray too far from the ocean. She stayed in the sand on the shore so she could at least feel the moisture in the sand…remnants of home. In time, the sun enticed her to raise her eyes and gaze around her..and she finally saw the beauty and the potential for life in this new place. While it didn’t have the same beauty of the ocean, it did have gorgeous trees…moss-covered boulders…fields of wildflowers…a rushing waterfall…and in the distance, a snow-capped mountain. And as she gazed around her, she felt something that she hadn’t felt in a very long time…hope.
She had existed without hope for so long. Can you imagine?
And as Alice finally stood on her own two legs. Her feet firmly planted. She put her hand on her heart and felt grief and love entertwined…beating…beating…beating. And she knew she had a choice to make. She could either stay on the sand by the ocean…or she could set off on a journey into the trees…clamber among the moss-covered boulders…trek through the fields of wildflowers…follow the rushing waterfall…and climb that snow-capped mountain. And so with adventure in her spirit, love and grief inside her, and a new-found yearning to live as her guide…she took the first step.
This Thanksgiving I am thankful for a lot of things…but mostly just that I am alive. That might seem like a weird and perhaps selfish thing to say…but for me…it’s a big deal…because I haven’t felt thankful for that in quite some time. In fact, I’ve more often wondered what it would be like to be dead. How easy it would be to just keep driving North on my way home from work…stop at some unknown woods somewhere and just get lost…let nature take it’s course…be food for the creatures of the woods…the woods itself…at least then I would be good for something. Or slip away under the water somewhere…it seems kind of peaceful under there. And while these were just passing thoughts in my head…as time went on they were definitely there more often. Three wonderful humans were really the only things keeping my feet planted…my head from wandering too far.
And then last May I had dinner with a friend who I only see every few months or so. And she saw past all my “I’m fine’s” and “I’m doing all right’s” and handed me a phone number. She had already checked to make sure they were taking new patients and she told me to call them….because I was not all right. I was not fine. I needed help. And that’s how I met my therapist, Tara, who continues to help me work through the dark times…who has shown me time and time again that she will not cringe away from my truths…who has earned my trust week after week. I would like to say that she saved my life….but more accurately…she helped me save myself.
I know that mental health is a really “cringey” topic in our society…and maybe this post is a little more…I don’t know…sobering…than you were looking for on a holiday. I also think it is really important to bring up ESPECIALLY on a holiday…because these are the days when mental health struggles get even harder for a lot of people. Please check up on the people that are in your life…especially over the holidays…especially if they’ve been quiet.
So today, I am thankful for being alive. I am thankful for the three wonderful humans…perfect mixes of Jason and I…that I am blessed to spend my life with. I am thankful for those in my life who reach out…who notice when I’ve gone quiet. I am thankful for every new day that I watch the sunrise and I am filled with possibility instead of dread. I will never take those things for granted.
Love, Tennis, and Cancer 