Transformation Tuesday

Sometimes the beginning of a transformation gets us transfixed on what is behind us. It’s a contradictory move as it is real damn hard to move forward when you are looking back but I think it’s a pretty natural thing to do. There’s a lot of grief in walking away from what we’ve known. Even if what we have known hurt like hell or no longer works. I was craning my neck in early sobriety & it really slowed me down.. er.. brought me down. Today though, I wanted to share something simple I did the first week of my sobriety that had everything to do with looking back but was monumental in helping me move forward into my transformation.

I had been rummaging through a box of pen pal letters trying to find a friends address when I came across a picture of myself as a kid. Happy, in a tree, wearing rad AF high tops, genuinely smiling. I had the thought that if I could go back to that moment and start all over again, I would. It made me cry. Which was VERY uncomfortable for me at the time (Feelings? Yuck). Looking at her I felt what that little girl had wanted her life to be like & how I had epically failed to make it all come together. So I sat there & wallowed in the deep, dark, shitty feeling that is being your own disappointment & then… I remembered that time had not stopped. The fat lady was not singing. The bell had not rung.

I got up & put that picture on my fridge. I wanted to see that face every day. To be reminded of the dreams, energy, imagination & optimism she had. To remind me to do better for her. Because in reality so much of me is & will forever be her. Happy, in a tree, wearing rad AF high tops, genuinely smiling with her whole life in front of her. 

Years later, still sober & she is still there on the fridge. I see her first thing every morning when I make breakfast & sometimes I give her a high five. I mean how could I not? She’s awesome. 

10.5.2021 Leftover banana waffles with peanut butter, zodiac pear, strawberries & cocao nibs - for my inner child. 

I want you to meet someone..

It froze recently and all my plants had to come in. Including this pathos that has been climbing the wall outside my front door for years now. This is Ridel, my early sobriety buddy. When I first quit drinking I took the path of isolation. It is not for everybody but I needed the hush of solitude to recover and redirect. I took the cue from our modern world. When something is not working for you, what do you do? You unplug it, wait and restart. I cooked for myself, watched movies, mastered the art of napping and read a lot. From self help to comic books, autobiographies and even the liner notes of my LP’s. Taking in other people’s words feeling as if they were all written just for me. Around this time I found myself talking (and occasionally reading out loud) to Ridel a lot. He was the only other living thing around and he was struggling too. Turning yellow and dropping leaves as quickly as I was going grey. My mother gifted me this plant years ago. It was one of many that I received from her - with it a ton of anxiety. Saying “oh you shouldn’t have..” and fully meaning it. I may have gotten her cheek bones but I did not believe myself to be blessed with her green thumbs. It is honestly a miracle that Ridel survived my early 30’s. A time I spent truly heart broken, dragging myself from bed to work, from work to the bar and back to bed again. I blacked out a lot, falling asleep often fully dress, shoes and makeup on to complete the look. I routinely skipped breakfast, unless coffee and ibuprofen count. I certainly was not remembering to water my singular house plant with any regularity. I myself spent the days behind moody UV resistant sunglasses. Hungover and hissing at the sun, surviving on caffeine, wondering when my life was going to turn the fuck around. By the time I hit 35 Ridel and I were both chronically dehydrated and vitamin D deficient. 

After I quit drinking and began spending more time at home talking to my potted companion, the more I noticed that honestly, he was looking pretty shitty. Yes, Ridel had managed to survive under my mediocre and utterly superficial care, but had failed to thrive. A common theme in my life at the time. Out of guilt I picked up some plant food and found it a better spot for him by the window, remembering to open the blinds each day when I got out of bed. I started sitting by the window with Ridel in the morning. I would sip my coffee and together we gazed out the across the yard, giggling as we spied on the neighbors across the way who were very committed to their Nintendo Wii workout.* After a week or so of direct sunshine and regular H2O Ridel’s leaves started looking glossy like the pages of National Geographic. After a month it had grown so much that I needed to repot it. I flattered myself thinking that my company had something to do with it too. Because Ridel was doing something for me. Watching his progress was restoring my confidence in being able to take care of something. It was showing me that you can turn things around. Transform, even. He gave me hope.

Ridel has kept me aware of how far I have come in when I lose perspective or start shit talking myself. We have grown so much together over the years. I have not gotten any taller (which would have been cool) but he has grown into a total beast (at roughly 17 feet long) and I truly love the person looking back at me in the mirror.

*I want it to be known that I no longer spy on the neighbors. Turns out watching others exercise will provide you with exactly zero of the benefits one gets from doing actual exercise, unfortunately. In the end they inspired me to get into a routine of my own.

Day 313: Almond buckwheat muffin with yogurt, pomegranate and bloobs.