The Truth

The Moderation Contemplation

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Winds of Freedom – Mona Davis

Are you trying to decide whether or not moderating your alcohol intake is the preferable option to giving it up entirely? Hugs and love to you. I know this is hard.

If I may, I’d like to ask you two questions:

1. Do you believe that being able to drink moderately makes you better or more whole as a person?
2. Do you know the reasons why you want the escape that drinking “promises”?

If you’re struggling to answer these two questions honestly, perhaps abstinence is the way to go. Of course the decision is yours but I’ll share my story:

I was a binge drinker which means that I could go days or weeks without drinking but when I did drink, anything could happen. Back then, if I was upset or angry the first couple of drinks felt good because all the pleasure centers in my brain were tickled, tricking me into believing that the high meant I was happy. But the warning bells would already be going off by the end of glass two. I would choose to ignore them and the switch would be flipped. Deep down I knew I had a problem with limits and believing it was a question of willpower, I had tried quitting or at least moderating my drinking many times. Especially after particularly embarrassing episodes or near misses. I tried “not drinking during the week” or limiting my consumption, you know, with the “three drinks minimum”. I changed what I drank and who I hung out with. I “had it under control.”

But the truth was, I didn’t want to give it up, or to be more honest, I didn’t want to be the girl who had to give it up. So no amount of rules or agendas would’ve worked. Years later, when I finally got fed up enough with myself and all the blackouts, and with hurting people I loved, knew I had no choice. I knew that this time, I didn’t want to be the girl who couldn’t give it up. In my heart I believe that perspective made all the difference.

Early on in my sobriety I was afraid that I’d always feel broken, and inadequate, defective or abnormal because I couldn’t drink the way other people did. As time went on, I came to realize that choosing to figure out why I wanted to drink in the first place, and understanding that it was not about will power but instead about goodwill toward myself, made me proud not be a drinker. It became a source of strength and confidence.

Today, I know for a fact that alcohol never made anything better.  In terms of moderation, if you are already at the point where you are telling yourself that you should be moderating your alcohol intake, it usually means that alcohol simply isn’t for you. You are either safely unaffected by it or a stronger, better you without it.

Healthy Change Is Nurtured Into Being

Changing habits takes time. Gentleness, kindness and nurturing. There’s a reason for that. It’s so that change can be permanent. Think of your recovery, or any major life change as a tree. It starts as a seed – small, hard, seemingly unimportant in the grand scheme of things. That us, we’re seeds. Waiting to grow up.

If we’re rushed, we grow up stunted unable to be fruitful or to blossom. If we’re nurtured, fed nourishment and given everything that helps us to evolve we grow in strength and beauty. Granted, for most of us who struggle with limits or addiction or self-inflicting pain, we want to be better now – we want our lives to be different now. We judge ourselves harshly for not healing or growing or developing quickly enough. That kind of judgment hurts us and can be debilitating.

Healing and growing takes nurturing and kindness. Healthy change is nurtured into being. Be gentle with yourself dear one.

Hugs and love, Phoenix.

The Girl In The Mirror

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I love the madness that is the April A to Z Blogging Challenge. The creativity, the fast-paced induced adrenaline rush of posting every 24 hours, the community spirit, and at times, the frustrating but glorious intensity.

This year I chose to write poems inspired by movies about addiction and absolution. I write often about the importance of honouring our emotions, about allowing ourselves to sit with the darkness, kicking at it until it bleeds light, but every now and then I resist the complete vulnerability and surrender that any sort of healing needs. So as April approached I took stock of my progress so far: two years of sobriety; an understanding and acceptance of my triggers; the warmth and affection that had grown in key relationships with loved ones; and the knowledge of what I felt I still needed to work on.

It was my intention to reach deep down to the dark, murky, frightening depths with both hands and pull hard against what needed to be uprooted, clearing away the weeds and plastic debris that were stunting my growth. I hoped to reveal, better understand, and become more accepting and appreciative of the dark emotions I keep at bay. I was ready, or so I thought.

Don’t get me wrong, all in all, this year’s challenge exceeded all expectations. For one, I reached the depths I wanted to and spent more time there than I cared to in the end. Even though I’ve come away with several poems that are worth shaping and rewriting, my plan to use movies about addiction as triggers worked better that I’d anticipated.

The shift was gradual and I did not notice it at first. But by the time I’d reached the middle of the alphabet I was staying in bed longer on mornings, wide-eyed with the covers to my chin, unsure and a little afraid of what the day would bring. My meditative morning habit – a cup of ginger tea on my front porch with an inspiring book – had been replaced with reviewing the difficult poem I’d written the night before, and I was no longer jumping out of bed looking forward to my day. I had underestimated my vulnerabilities. The writing challenge theme I’d set for myself, together with two unexpected life events, affected me adversely. I won’t be doing something like this again. At least not without setting some boundaries and safe zones first.

There were breakthroughs as well, which I am grateful for, with poems like The Quiet, which makes me so uncomfortable to read even though I wrote it, and Thirteen, which I wrote when I came to an understanding about my relationship with my mother. I think if there is anything I am truly happy about is turning that corner with my Mom. It was my last important relationship to heal and I believe that now I can begin doing just that.

In the end, and today I am grateful for the opportunity to learn. I am not invincible. I cannot, ever, underestimate my triggers nor the importance of boundaries. I am grateful for loved ones (online and IRL) who supported me through this “mad experiment” and never judged me for it. It has helped me to be gentler with myself and keep my own Judge in check. I even have to send a nod to the Universe for crashing my laptop two weeks into the challenge. I chuckle to myself now when I think about it. Perhaps the Universe was sending me a message after all.

Love and light,

Phoenix

Phoenix From The Ashes

Shadow.Ash.Spirit.Flame. - Gabriel García Márquez

Last November I finally told my Dad about my decision to give up alcohol. He’d never really known about my binge drinking or about everything that had happened because of it, mostly because we were not really close for most of my adult life and did not see each other that often. There were a couple of times when in desperate need for peace I asked him to take me to see healers or guides but I never really told him why and he did not ask. So, last November I explained to him that February 2nd, 2016 would be the anniversary of a life-altering decision I made in 2014. I asked him if he would have a thanksgiving hawan (prayer) for me. He said yes, simply and quietly.

Two weeks before Christmas Dad fell sick with pneumonia. It was really bad and on the fourth day the doctor told him there was nothing more he could do. Now, my father is very stubborn and may have decided to fight his illness just to prove the doctor wrong. For whatever reason, he pulled through and even though extremely weakened and still on oxygen and drips twice per week, he was up on Christmas Day, enough to have a few pieces of fruit on the family lunch table. As the days in January rolled by I had decided that I would not burden him with having the hawan for me, so when he called a week ago to ask if I would still like to have it, I was surprised and very moved. I asked him if he was sure he was up to the task and he said that he believed it would be good for him too. It would be a thanksgiving for both of us.

A hawan is a sacred purifying ritual, in which a sacrificial fire is built in a kund, and specific ingredients are burned according to Ayurvedic tradition. These fire ceremonies are performed for all types of occasions: to let go of patterns and obstacles in our lives, for healing, purification of the environment and ourselves, to pray for success with a particular venture, or to express gratitude. Before we began my father welcomed our guests and started to explain why we had gathered together. But the only words he managed to get out were “my daughter” before he was overwhelmed with emotion. I think it moved him that I’d struggled and ‘come home’, perhaps proving him wrong in believing that he failed as a father by never providing a “home” for his daughters to return to. I spoke up and explained that I’d made a choice two years ago which turned my life around and that I felt it best to honour what I’d been given. With my second chance and Dad’s health, our ceremony was a thanksgiving for my life and for his.

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Having not been brought up in the Hindu faith, even though my father is Hindu, I don’t remember much from my childhood in terms of the significance of the ingredients used and of the meaning of the mantras (prayers in Sanskrit) but my stepsister sat right next to me and guided me along.

The mango tree is a symbol of love, prosperity and fertility, and on Sunday it provided the kindling for our fire. Ghee (purified butter) was used to feed the fire and signified light being brought into our lives. Several little blocks of camphor was burned throughout the ritual. Camphor represents the negative qualities in us and when camphor burns, it leaves no trace. Guggul is a resin formed from the sap of the guggul tree, and has been used in Ayurvedic medicine for over two thousand years. It too, shrinks and removes negative energies. Sweet rice was added to the kund too as rice is symbolic of wealth and success.

Samagri is a mixture of spices and each item of the samagri is significant. Ashoka, considered to be sacred tree, is also a herb that fights disease. Loban (frankincense) creates positive energies, creating a seal locking out the inflow of negative. Harmal seeds crackle on being heated, acting like grenades and explosives in the energy field, and drive away the negative astral energies in the environment. Specific Sanskrit mantras were chanted and sung too and these, together with the offerings to the fire create purifying vibrations that are beneficial to all present.

As the fire burned, the fragrant aromas triggered happy childhood memories of running through bamboo arches with deyas full of light, of delicious food and lots of family.

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Can you see the Phoenix? 🙂

I stared at the flames as they danced in the kund, charring the mango wood black then white. Dad spooned ghee over the ingredients yet to burn and pushed the camphor into unlit corners to ignite. There was forgiveness in those flames and hope in the heat I felt on my face. It is said that the smoke that rises from the kund contains a powerful healing energy, and as it rises to the heavens it purifies the atmosphere, both physically and subtly, encouraging peace.

For the last mantras (the ones I am the most fond of because they resonate with me, reminding me of a forgotten time) we rose to our feet. As the others sang I was very quiet, focused on the kund and what was left of the fire. I felt all my mistakes and my shame, guilt and remorse about them, reduced to black ash. I felt a surge of gratitude for all I have learned, for the courage and strength I was given, for all the new blogging friends I’ve made and the relationships with loved ones I was given the chance to deepen. I looked across at my father and he smiled at me. I am so thankful for this second chance. Late morning breezes began to blow, stirring the coconut and fruit trees in our garden into action. I felt love and reassurances all around me, from family, friends, the sky and sunshine, from myself.  Through tears I watched as the wind swirled, picking up the ash and carrying away everything I no longer needed.

“Happy New Year Phoenix, Year 3 is going to be even better.”

Love and light to you all, Phoenix

An Extraordinary Life

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“You have so many extraordinary gifts; how can you expect to lead an ordinary life?” ~ Marmee, Little Women

Difficult experiences are our teachers. They help us to learn about ourselves and to grow. Overcoming them and moving on helps us to bloom.

I was a curious and precocious child, always wanting to know why and how people worked. Why they did what they did. Why the universe is the way it is. I wanted answers. So much so my father once said he was worried for my future state of mind because one day I would learn that there were no definitive answers, and that if I was not prepared for it, that knowledge would ruin me. I still ask questions but I am less afraid of not knowing with certainty my place in the big picture. Maybe I had my wake up call already. Maybe I have had a few.

As far back at 2007 I’ve wanted to leave my job. I am very unhappy about many things: the way I am valued yet unappreciated; the way I am told to temper my frustration with inefficiency in production and with sub-par contractors; and the way my grievances have been ignored as much as my suggestions for improvements in key areas that could help the business grow and become sustainable. Even though I want out, I stayed for multiple reasons: a sense of loyalty; a passion for the creative side of the business; and being good at what I do. But there are other reasons too: fear of the unknown; doubt that I could be valued elsewhere; fear of no longer having job security; self-conscious worry about what people would say; and yes, complacency.

When I quit drinking I never imagined that this journey would give me so much more than a sober head: an opportunity to heal, a stronger sense of self, a direct line to reserves of strength I never knew I had, resilience, courage, confidence and belief in myself. A year after giving up alcohol and cigarettes I had welcomed more creative endeavours into my life. I was writing and painting more than ever before and beginning to freelance creative work. Now, in my heart I know that I am ready to move on. It was the time to do so a long time ago but now, armed with everything that has been given to me in the last two years, I am ready for new possibilities.

I’m happy to report that on Friday I finally handed in my notice at the place I’ve worked for the past fifteen years. It was an incredible feeling. My boss is not happy about it but I expected that. I did not waiver. I felt years of stress rolling down my back and falling away. I was whatsapping with my sister minutes after and she asked me what I was feeling in that moment. I took stock and replied: relief, gratitude, peace and joy.

“You’re ready to go out and find a good use for your talent. Go, and embrace your liberty. And see what wonderful things come of it.” ~ Marmee, Little Women.

In terms of what’s next I have only a simple plan: Follow my heart and be very wise about spending in the meantime. Haha.

“I want to do something different. I don’t know what it is yet but I’m on the watch for it.” Jo, Little Women

 Love and light, Phoenix

~*~

On February 6th 2014, four days after I stopped drinking alcohol, I started this blog. My two-year soberversary is fast approaching and my January posts, inspired by fictional philosophers who’ve inspired me with their bad-ass thoughts, is a way of celebrating my journey. I hope, in turn, to inspire you on yours.

Do I Deserve to Be Happy?

Claudia Tremblay

Artwork by Claudia Tremblay

“It’s as if you won’t allow yourself to be at peace, because you don’t think you deserve it. When will you begin to understand the preciousness of your own life?” ~ Richard from Texas, Liz Gilbert

I’ve been thinking a lot about why I held myself back for so long. For years I knew without a doubt that I could have a better life. I could be healthier, more focused, embrace all that life had to offer, and grow. But self-sabotage walked hand in hand with any progress I made and I always ended up kicking myself for not following through on plans to exercise, connect more with family, stand up for myself, take care of my skin or hair or home. I’d make all these great plans and then never act on them. Then I’d beat myself up for not trying, end up filling my life with people and things that were wrong for me, and then tell myself I wasn’t worth it anyway.

Allowing ourselves to grow has a lot to do with learning how to be accountable for our actions, accepting ourselves as we are and believing that we are worth investing in. It is also, particularly for those who made as many mistakes as I have, a great deal about forgiveness. While I’d come to terms with a lot of my mistakes and I’ve learned how to own them, self-forgiveness is something that I find challenging. It is one thing to know that I deserve to forgive myself and it is another thing to actually do it. I have come a long way since Feb 2014, and even though I get frustrated with myself sometimes for not “growing fast enough”, I also know that life’s lessons take their time and are given to us when it is time for us to learn them. I have to remind myself often, to be gentle with my thoughts and self-judgments, and to treat myself with care.

In my last post I wrote about finding a way to let go of the hurtful aspects of my relationship with my father. Through guidance in a metaphysical workshop I was able to let go of difficult memories of certain aspects of our relationship and deepen the healthy connections we do have. The workshop was geared toward helping us to release relationships and energetic connections that no longer serve us.

After the ebb and flow and relief of the first letting go, I settled myself in and breathed deeply, allowing whoever / whatever I was supposed to let go of next, to present itself to me.

Expecting to see an ex-boyfriend, or a shadowy image of a traumatic experience from the past, I was startled beyond belief when I recognized the two figures walking toward me. It was an adorable little girl and a beautiful, confident young woman, holding hands and smiling. The little girl was Little Phoenix, my toddler self. She was the one who I hid from because I felt that I’d let her down. I was ashamed that the innocent, bright eyed and hopeful little girl had turned into someone who I thought was out of control, ugly and a mess. I couldn’t look at photos of myself as little girl because I felt so far removed from that child, and so ruined. I’ve made my peace with that which is why I was surprised to see her walking toward me. The young woman she was holding hands with was me when I was in my twenties. She’s the one I call That Girl, and she was incredibly passionate, strong-willed, determined, brash and bold. She was also in a lot of pain and numbed that pain in all the wrong ways. I was bound to her, to that part of me, because of all the rough stuff we experienced together and the rebellion and reckless behaviour that came afterward because of it.

So there I was in the middle of the workshop, approached by two younger versions of myself, who evidently had something to say. I was confused. What was going on? Why would I need to sever ties with myself? Maybe I didn’t understand the instructions.

While Little Phoenix smiled and twirled her yellow dress, That Girl studied me. Without any sign of accusation or judgment on her face and with only love in her eyes, she said “We forgive youIt is okay to move on and to get better. You are not abandoning us. I am happy for you and for us, that you are finally building the life that you deserve. It is time and you can let go.”

I broke down. I had not realized that I’d been holding on to her so tightly. From a sense of responsibility or perhaps it was attachment to the familiar, I felt that to truly move on would mean that I would be leaving that side of me behind. That I would forget and to be honest, I didn’t want to forget the person I was underneath all the drinking and self-sabotaging behaviour. We had shared so much. In some way I needed her too.

But I understood. I needed to release all the painful experiences we went through… that I went through when I was that age. I needed to forgive myself for everything that happened after. I needed to trust that the best parts of me grew and are still growing, from the worst experiences. Those parts are with me now and I have been made stronger for it. It was time to move on. I took a deep breath and smiled through my tears. Little Phoenix giggled as That Girl lifted her into her arms, and they turned and walked away, leaving me with a very large lump in my throat and a heart filled with joy.

~*~

“Oh darling, it’s OK that you faltered…that you engaged in a destructive behaviour that was not in keeping with your true values. You did it to dull the pain, diminish the anger. But you realised that it still lay there…pressed further down. Let it Come Up a thousand times, again & again. Let it Rise…and Drift Away.” Patrice Charles

~*~

“How shall I go in peace and without sorrow? Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city. Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret? To many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets, and too many are the children of my onging that walk naked among these hills, and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an ache. It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands. Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and thirst.” ~ Khalil Gibran

~*~

On February 6th 2014, four days after I stopped drinking alcohol, I started this blog. My two-year soberversary is fast approaching and my January posts, inspired by fictional philosophers who’ve inspired me with their bad-ass thoughts, is a way of celebrating my journey. I hope, in turn, to inspire you on yours.

Walking the Path

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Why is it so very hard to do what we’re supposed to do, as in what’s best for us? Especially when we know what we have to do?? Why is that so tough? I mean, you would think it would be easy because its common sense, to walk a certain path which I know is the right path. So why is it so tempting to retrace our steps on an old path? Is it a fear of what the new path may hold, or the familiarity of the ‘old’ path? Most people make the mistake of thinking that they’re making the right choice by going back, simply because it’s so familiar that it feels comfortable and ‘right’, even though it usually isn’t. Comfort in familiarity and all that. But if I am aware of the fear, the comfort of familiarity and all the rest of it, already why do I do this?

Sometimes I feel like I sabotage myself over and over. It’s as though whenever I feel I’m on the verge of doing something great or being something great, (and I don’t mean ‘great’ like finding a cure for AIDS, or Cancer, solving the problem of Global Warming, or writing the novel of the century, I’m referring to something meaningful, purposeful, and fulfilling, that could make me, and others around me, happy), this is usually the point where I slowly but surely turn on my heel and step in the opposite direction. Sometimes I even run! It’s annoying, frustrating and depressing. I know I have issues with self-worth and believing that I deserve more, but shouldn’t loving myself and believing in myself grow with time and practice?

Master Planner or Procrastinator?

I have recognized that one of my problems is that I’m a ‘master planner’. Once I see that something needs ‘fixing’, I’ll get all excited about it and come up with a great plan! I think: “Yay, PROJECT!” Then once the plan is on paper, I feel happy that I have a plan and then immediately hit the brakes for a while because I’m no longer frustrated or unhappy. That’s my cycle. I’m really worried, because here I am planning again, making My New Life lists, and jotting down notes in my Happy Me journal, and bookmarking Work From Home websites, and then, stalling. I am this close to leaving my job, yet I have not sent out proposals to get my new career going, even though I have five potential clients lined up! I should be grateful and honour these opportunities by giving them my all. (Teeny tiny voice in my head: What if my all isn’t good enough?)

Sometimes I just think it comes down to habits to break. Maybe it’s as simple as that and maybe I just have to break the ‘bad’ thinking habits too. The thing is, unless I cultivate good habits to replace them, I’ll always have time for ‘bad’ habits. What puzzles me is despite the fact that I know what I have to do, and I know what will make my life better, I just don’t do it. I read something yesterday:

“Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.” (Marianne Williamson).

Which brings me back to what I was talking about, why am I so afraid to take that step? A line from a song I heard this morning goes: “That first step you take is the longest stride.” Maybe that’s true. I was talking to a good friend of mine about all of this and I told him that I don’t like the fact that I haven’t been able to get it together and annoyed that every time I feel like I’m progressing, I fall back. He asked me what I thought I wasn’t ‘getting together’. I had to think about it because I wanted to be honest with myself. What I’ve been running away from is the same three things for years: recognizing my purpose; loving myself; and allowing myself to be loved the way that I deserve to be loved.

Fear

I know I hold myself back, out of fear mostly. Fear of being out of my comfort zone, fear of the unknown, fear of failure, fear of opening myself up to love, fear of getting hurt. All of these fears fill my mind and stop me from moving forward, toward new adventures. They take up so much space in my mind and heart, leaving little room for appreciating what I do have and what I do know, and even less room for hope and promise.

Let Go?

A lot has been shifting and changing with me for the past couple of weeks and is a source of inner turmoil, but what if this is  an opportunity for release as well? I am trying so hard to steer the ship so to speak that what if there is incredible freedom when I let the rudder go? What if I surrender to what will be and not try to predict the weather and make adjustments to suit. What if I choose to focus on what makes me happy and fulfilled and give up on worrying about the dark sea beneath or about keeping my ship afloat. What if I allow myself to enjoy the anticipation of huge rolling wave and the excitement of the ride. What if I trust in all the work I’ve done over the last couple of years and have faith that a greater plan has been put in motion? What if I choose to follow my heart and allow the mystery of my journey and destination to unfold?

What if? Indeed. 🙂

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~*~

On February 6th 2014, four days after I stopped drinking alcohol, I started this blog. My two-year soberversary is fast approaching and my January posts, inspired by fictional philosophers who’ve inspired me with their bad-ass thoughts, is a way of celebrating my journey. I hope, in turn, to inspire you on yours.

 

I’m Too Sad To Walk. Just Give Me A Few Hours.

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I’m too sad to walk. Just give me a few hours.” Sadness, Inside Out

I’m a big believer in honouring our emotions, even the difficult ones. I didn’t always think that way. I methodically and meticulously planned my escape routes and hit the road, racing away from those pesky, annoying and highly uncomfortable emotions. Me? Feel sad and mopey? Pfft. Tears were for lesser beings. Frustration and anger was a waste of my time. Better to ignore the bastard, bitch or piece of furniture that pissed me off. Fear and desperation? Why bother? Can’t control what happens anyway. So what did I do? I pushed those emotions deep down, drowning them with my ‘good’ friends, Johnny, Jack, Jose and Jager.

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Joy: “Hey, it’s not my place to tell you how you do your job. [She pushes Sadness’s leg inside of the circle.] Just make sure that all the sadness stays in the circle. See? You’re a pro at this. Isn’t this fun?”

But I learned the hard way: when you shut down one emotion you shut down all. With the help of alcohol, I nullified my ability to effectively experience other emotions, like joy, hope and love. It doesn’t happen overnight of course but it happens, and when despair started to surround me I’d get dressed and head to a bar. It was a brutal cycle.

So, one night when I’d had enough, I kicked those bad boys to the curb, headed home and let it all flood out of me. I realized that there was strength in allowing my feelings, all of them. It was okay to feel angry, upset, frustrated, worried, stressed, hurt, unhappy, desperate, scared, afraid and unsure. It was okay to cry and stare up at the ceiling or crawl under the covers and stay there if you want to. It was okay to want to watch TV all day with junk food on the couch next to you. It’s necessary to allow it to swallow you sometimes. It is okay to sit, or lie, or just stay there for a few hours, because it is the only way you can move past the darkness and into the light. And I promise you, the light will come. You WILL feel better.

You will pick yourself up, and you should at some point, and you can. We all can. Once the difficult stuff is allowed out, we’ve cleared the way for the helpful emotions to surface.

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[Joy rolls her eyes and grabs Sadness by the foot, dragging her into Long-Term Memory]

Joy: “Which way, left?”

Sadness: “Right.” [Joy turns right] “No, I mean ‘go left’, I said left is right, like, correct.”

Joy: “Okay!” [drags Sadness the opposite direction]

Sadness: “This actually feels kind of nice.”

Joy: “Okay! Here we go! We’ll be back to Headquarters before morning! This’ll be easy! This is working!”

~*~

On February 6th 2014, four days after I stopped drinking alcohol, I started this blog. My two-year soberversary is fast approaching and my January posts, inspired by fictional philosophers who’ve inspired me with their bad-ass thoughts, is a way of celebrating my journey. I hope, in turn, to inspire you on yours.

Inside Out (2015 film): Growing up can be a bumpy road, and it’s no exception for Riley, who is uprooted from her Midwest life when her father starts a new job in San Francisco. Like all of us, Riley is guided by her emotions – Joy, Fear, Anger, Disgust and Sadness. The emotions live in Headquarters, the control center inside Riley’s mind, where they help advise her through everyday life. As Riley and her emotions struggle to adjust to a new life in San Francisco, turmoil ensues in Headquarters. Although Joy, Riley’s main and most important emotion, tries to keep things positive, the emotions conflict on how best to navigate a new city, house and school. ~  Written by Pixar 

Do… or do not. There is no try

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Do… or do not. There is no try. ~ Yoda

A philosophical blogging challenge wouldn’t be complete without Master Yoda.

Especially when he is right. While I do also think that “you’ve already failed if you fail to try” I believe that Master Yoda was talking about having the right attitude. His apprentice, Luke, was young in the ways of The Force and didn’t believe in himself very much. He didn’t have the right attitude.

The many, many times I failed at quitting drinking, giving it up for a while, or even cutting back on the number of drinks, it was because I didn’t have the right attitude. I thought, like most people, that managing alcohol consumption was all, and only, about will power. I thought something must’ve really been truly wrong with me that I couldn’t drink (and enjoy alcohol) the way my friends did. But it was never about will power. It was about good will.

While I’m not judging anyone or condemning their relationships with alcohol I am much wiser when it comes to myself now. I know that I used alcohol as a tool for escape. I used it to run away from dealing with my issues and of course, it never made anything any better.

The times I’d failed to quit I didn’t have the right attitude, about many things. I didn’t see my self, my life and everything I wanted to achieve as worth enough to change my behaviour for. I didn’t see what alcohol really meant for someone like me. I didn’t see that I had issues with self worth that were deep-rooted. I didn’t believe that I could change them. I didn’t think I needed help.

The big difference this time, and in less than a month I will celebrate my second soberversary, is that I have the right attitude. While I will never underestimate alcohol again, I know I never drink again. I know I am worth it. I know I can do this. For me, there is no try.

~*~

On February 6th 2014, four days after I stopped drinking alcohol, I started this blog. My two-year soberversary is fast approaching and my January posts, inspired by fictional philosophers who’ve inspired me with their bad-ass thoughts, is a way of celebrating my journey. I hope, in turn, to inspire you on yours.

Therapy For Change

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“Therapy only works when we have a genuine desire to know ourselves as we are, not as we would like to be.” ~ Hannibal Lecter

Therapy can take different forms: seeing a counselor, psychologist or psychiatrist; self awareness and personal development exercises; creative and artistic exploration; sharing past experiences with others who can relate to what you are going through. All require us to be brutally honest with ourselves and to have the courage and willingness to explore who we really are.

I sought professional help twice in my life, with the last time being back 2011. That session, which lasted just under a year, was effective because I was all in. I chose to seek the advice of a psychologist because I was fed up of two decades worth of repeating poor choices, from drinking and smoking too much, to allowing myself to foster codependent and unhealthy relationships, to sabotaging my own growth every time I made any progress. I knew I had to get at the root causes of my behaviour and I knew I could not do it on my own.

It was not easy rehashing my mistakes and painful experiences and I remember asking many times, “Why is it called a breakthrough when it feels like a breakdown?” But the tools I learned back in 2011 were invaluable when I quit drinking two years ago. I’m still learning about myself because I’m still changing. We are always changing and, hopefully growing.

“Real change is seldom a giant step. It’s usually a small one. Small but deeply real. We hold the fear and the faith at the same time and we cross the bridge slowly. When we get to the other side, we have been transformed – not by the stepping out itself – but by the willingness to stay open during the crossing. That’s what changes us – creating a space inside for a new way of being to emerge.” ~ Jeff Brown

~*~

On February 6th 2014, four days after I stopped drinking alcohol, I started this blog. My two-year soberversary is fast approaching and my January posts, inspired by fictional philosophers who’ve inspired me with their bad-ass thoughts, is a way of celebrating my journey. I hope, in turn, to inspire you on yours.

P.S. Is it weird that I’m totally excited about using a quote from Hannibal? 🙂