31 days of self-luv

day 1: what is your biggest struggle with loving yourself?

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      For 4 years or so, I have obsessively shaved my booty hair. I would try to get it porn-star smooth, dragging the razor in as many directions as needed to avoid missing patches or rogue strands. Sometimes I'm a little too aggressive with it and I cut myself in the most inconvenient place, the warm water stinging the freshly nicked wound while I watch blood and shame swirl down the drain. My thoughts bounce from, "I hope whoever sees my anus doesn't think I'm gross for having hair" to "I hope whoever sees my anus doesn't think I'm gross for having a cut where the hair used to be".

     Here's what's most important about this spiral: it is 1000% self-imposed and has no basis whatsoever. I was never doing reverse cowgirl with my live-in boyfriend and he said, "Shit, bitch, this is one hairy peach." Nor was I ever in the midst of doggy style during a one night stand when the man penetrating me exclaimed, "Ew! Please take care of this, Lady Chewbacca. I gotta go." No one has ever complained about it. Ever. And I can't even remember why or when this obsession began. What I do know is that I consult my closest homegirls about it and make it a hygienic priority and that my stomach hurts from the stress surrounding how others perceive me. 

       I feel like this applies to a lot of my insecurities. Maybe society at large has a subliminal influence, like the magazines I've been reading since I was a teenager & all the movies or tv shows I consume & my religious following of women on Instagram who can afford liposuction, personal trainers, and plastic surgery. My single mom who raised me only ever showered me with compliments and told me how beautiful I am. 

       A fallacy I perpetuate is the I need to be perfect always in all ways— the prettiest, smartest, funniest, kindest, most honest, cleanest... The list is endless. An inch shy of these attributes equates total failure where I somehow don't possess a shred of any of them. Conversely, my friends & family are allowed to be human: to have hair above their lip, to accidentally say the wrong answer out loud in class, to not wash their dishes at night, to wear an Adidas shirt with Nike shoes. To human is to err and this is not only normal but expected. However... in my own fucked-off noggin I have convinced myself I am unworthy of the grace and freedom others experience at their leisure. 

     Living by this dysfunctional principle can be draining, but I do have an occasional reprieve. Sometimes when I look in the mirror and stare at myself square in my deep, chocolate chip irises, I see someone who has endured a lot of pain and misfortune and blunders. Regardless, I am still hilarious and fun and intelligent and artistic and loving — so, so loving — and I want everyone to be okay. My biggest struggle with loving myself is a world that tries every minute of every day to convince me I'm unable to do so until I buy the smelly-good bath bomb or the latest Fenty lingerie set or the ironic self-help book to help me cultivate something they taught me to resent. I weave in and out of this space until I get sucked back in when my boyfriend invites me over late at night and I call out to my mom, "Do you know where the shaving cream is?"

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mercurialness

       Last Thursday was truly a tipping point for me. I went into my roommate's bedroom and sat on the floor (where the lighting seemed to be most adequate) and I made a video for my Instagram story where I announced, "I have been feeling thee opposite of great this week, so in order to try to preserve a shred of sanity and avoid me going off the edge and deleting every social media platform and going radio silent again, I need a break... from Instagram. I'll probably do that the rest of the month... First, I'm going to shit-post what I have in my saved tab. My only concern is: what if I, like, get off and then Michael Che responds to my 80 million DMs I've sent him? And then he's all like, 'Do you want me to fly you out to fuckin' New York?' and I'm all like, 'Oh my god. I would love that!' And then he's all like, 'Do you wanna stay at the fuckin'...' I don't know. I've never been to New York. I don't know anything about it." (I was going to say, "...stay at the Mar-a-Lago", but that has too close associations with Drumpf. More importantly, I just looked it up on Wikipedia and that resort is, in fact, in Florida.) My precious-ass 17-year-old cousin texted me immediately.

       "Hey, what's up? I saw your story and I wanted to know if you wanted to talk." Before I can start typing a reply, a text from my 25-year-old twin flame popped up on my screen.

       "Aww J! What's getting you down?" I drafted one text in an itemized-list style to copy and send to both parties.

• My brother and favorite aunt relapsed and used meth last month.
• Being around my dad's family resuscitated some childhood traumas I could have swore I had laid to rest and healed from.
• I'm broke as fuck ALL. THE. TIME!!!!
• I was stopped and someone hit my car (totaling it) and so I had to buy a car that's older than my 20-year-old sister.
• Two of my friends that I've known for over ten years, for totally different reasons, called me an arrogant sociopath on the same day.
• My ex-boyfriend told me I don't care about people.
• I got into an argument with a friend from high school and really hurt her feelings over differing views. She asked me, "Why are you like this and why do you do the things you do?"
• This one shouldn't bug me so much but it does and I need to unpack why: my best friend is dating this man, and even though he's toxic (manipulative, abusive, psychotic), he's always spoiling her— buying her a Michael Kohrs purse & watch, Chanel perfume, Polo clothes, Nike shoes, $600 to fix her car, paying to get her nails done, at least $2,000 in cash... In every relationship I've been in, I've either gone half or I've had to pay for EVERYTHING.
• A friend of mine started writing a book last year, finished it this year, and self-published it on Amazon. I have been wanting to write a book for ten years and have had zero follow-through and feel like a fake-ass bitch.
• Being sad and stressed out about all this makes me unmotivated, so I called into work last Monday and then took Wednesday morning & Thursday afternoon off. I don't want to lose my job, but I feel so unwell and can't focus when my mind is scrambled eggs.
• I don't feel like I've progressed in this life. Not a fucking iota.

       Being vulnerable has never been an issue for me. On the contrary, it's shutting the fuck up that  I can't seem to do. I recently confessed a few of these stressors to my therapist and she had some good shit to say. My homework is to consider this:

Friendships & relationships: what's really going on here?

What are the patterns that exist in your friendships/relationships (age 18 and up)?

Do these resemble any patterns from my early childhood/adolescence?

Where do I fit in with that? What's my role?

        As I sit on my bed watching Billie Eilish: The World's a Little Blurry on Apple TV+, my 27-year-old soulmate texted me about the video so I copied and pasted my list into an iMessage. I received responses from all three simultaneously. And their messages were all composed in the same particularized manner my original sentiments were.

cousin: Your brother and aunt are not your problem. You need to make them leave your mind.

twin flame: out of your control 

soulmate: Advocate for your mom or someone else getting custody of your aunt’s kid. Those abides shouldn’t have to continue to go through that trauma. Apart from that there is nit much you can do for her or your brother. They need to get to a point where they want/need to give up drug usage. Don’t cut off contact or anything, especially with your brother, but don’t support his habit with money or rides etc.

cousin: Just ignore them. There's nothing much really that you can do about that. None of them live with you. People can tell you how they think they want you to live your life but until they actually do, they have no say.

twin flame: HEARD THAT. That’s me when I’m around my mom. So I get it. I find I have to get myself away when I’m feeling that way. Or find the good in those people.

soulmate: This is BIG one to work through in therapy. I think working on these underlying traumas will help you with reoccurring troubles in the present and future.

cousin: Try eating out less and get generic brands. Make a chart of what you spend the most money on and try to cut it down.

twin flame: Let’s try and fix that. A budget maybe?

soulmate: You’re gonna hate this one: create a budget and stick to it. It’s not realistic to cut out buying fast food but budget for only one night a week and stick to it. Skip going out to the club (unless a man is paying) and instead hang out at places that are cheaper/free.

cousin: Be happy you have a car and think this gives you room for improvement.

twin flame: Let’s be thankful we have a car, right? ♡ However, I’m sorry that happened. I wish it didn’t make you feel like a major setback in your life.

soulmate: Although it fucking sucks that someone crashed into your car, at least you have a replacement now to continue to get from A to B. It’s not that you have to drive it forever. You could work in a savings into you budget towards a newer car. It doesn’t have to be big. Maybe $5 a paycheck to start and then increase as your budget accommodates. Also analyze why having a 1999 Corolla is so frustrating. Is it because of a comparison to others or because the car doesn’t work correctly?

cousin: You are very empathetic. If you weren't, then a lot of these problems wouldn't be about other people's feelings.

twin flame: They don’t get ya like I get ya.

soulmate: If what your besties said struck a nerve, that means that what you want to believe about yourself is not aligning with your actions that they are calling out. Decide what you want to believe about yourself and set intentions on how you can make that clear and actions that you can take to make that the truth.

twin flame: YOU DO CARE ABOUT PEOPLE

soulmate: Your ex can fuck off. He’s a manipulative man who wanted to have girlfriend and got rejected and doesn’t know how to handle that so he’ll attack you.

cousin: You do things you do because you know what it's like to be hurt. You're being protective. Don't feel bad about that.

twin flame: Are you mad? Are you being mean? Why are people getting so touchy with you? Lol

soulmate: Let the the high school friend argument go. It’s in the past and will just take time and neither of you will care about it in a year or less.

cousin: It's shitty but time will come when she will stop getting money and fend for herself. Baby, you don't need no mans. Baby, you making it. I promise. You just need to get distracted with hobbies and save up. Then you can buy your own!!

twin flame: Yeah, that shit gets to me. I think we were raised to never take money from anyone so seeing other people get shit handed to them while we struggle is annoying.

cousin: A book would be a great distraction. I really would like you to send me an idea or topic from a plot line.

twin flame: Remember that friendly piece of advice about how a lot of people don’t get shit done until they’re older?

soulmate: No offense, but your friend wrote a smut book and you can do better. She also had a little more external stability to support finishing a book quickly. Stabilize your financial situation and sub in writing time instead of going out. Not saying never go out, but if you go out on Friday write on Saturday.

twin flame: I do that too and then I feel even worse for calling in. Can’t help ya— I’m guilty.

soulmate: Remember that this can become a cycle. Losing your job would mean your couldn’t save, let alone pay rent and groceries, which would make you more sad and less motivated to work and more frustrated with yourself. Ask your therapist for more frequent sessions. Maybe weekly if possible. Set rewards during your day of work. I do dance parties or an episode of tv at lunch if I’m productive in the morning.

twin flame: You are not jogging in place. You are just struggling right now. You're judging your entire life based on how you feel in this very moment. When you’re linking up with wholesome friends and high on life, you understand your path. It’s when you get down on yourself that your brain start to ruminate on all the negatives.

soulmate: I would argue you’ve progressed a lot. You have a stable job that allows for working from home, you live on your own, you have health insurance and a therapist. That’s more than most people can say. However, nothing I say can make you believe that about yourself.

        I appreciate their support and advice, but sometimes when it all seems so bleak, no amount of reassurance in the world can smother out the persistent thought that maybe this just isn't worth it. I don't know how to dig myself out of ruts, self-imposed or otherwise.

I've tried taking myself to therapy on four separate occasions as an adult.

I did 5 months sober in A.A. on my own volition.

I have journaled for 15 years.

I go to the gym when I'm feeling motivated.

I tried going vegan to reduce internal inflammation and have more energy.

I moved to Florida and California and Texas.

I've adjusted my medication; type as well as dosage.

I TAKE MEDICINE.

I try to share memes & go to concerts & travel & take photographs & read.

I've tried taking acid and getting illuminated.

I've tried being in relationships in hopes they'll complete me & make me feel better.

I've tried being alone in an attempt to eliminate external stressors.

I've tried to work myself away & keep my mind busy.

I've tried to pour my love/energy/attention/time/money into my dog in an attempt to feel better.

None of it is working.

I'm still feeling as sad & lonely & hurt & worthless as ever.

mer·cu·ri·al  (adj) — (of a person) subject to sudden or unpredictable changes of mood or mind

I Hate It Here, Episode 1

 

Hues of Gray

     Seven years, a thousand miles, and a few therapy sessions have passed since my five-month stint in Florida, so why did I still have a shaky heart and that slight lump in my throat and arising anxiety around the whole situation? I went to celebrate the high school graduation of my 17-year-old cousin/sister/bestie. That's a happy occasion. What was the issue? Sure, I didn't leave on the most pleasant note and I hadn't kept in touch very well and I harbored resentment about some real fucked-up shit I experienced there with the combined intensity of Little Boy and Fat Man. Alas, Buddha said, "Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned."

     My uncle Lance picked me and my brother up from Jacksonville International Airport in a black 2010 Jeep, initiating small talk about a bridge under construction that has traffic going awry. I looked out the window for the majority of the 49-minute drive to their house; a bi-level five miles outside the small town of Middleburg. I missed the luscious greenery I associate with the east coast. (I did this nature shoot back in the day that still makes me smile *click me*) Okay, so here's the thing... I did feel nervous and suspicious and uneasy about my great return. "We have learned that trauma is not just an event that took place sometime in the past; it is the imprint left by that experience on mind, brain, and body," Bessel van der Kolk wrote in his 2014 book The Body Keeps Score. With that said, I was very optimistic and excited and eager to create new memories in the same place where I endured a barrage of discomfort. There were a few crucial elements to consider this time around including, but not limited to:

• I would be there for 5 days and 4 nights.
• I was there to celebrate a milestone in my baby's life.
• I was accompanied by my brother as well as my Uncle Ricky, whose presence always makes me feel safer.
• I am a seasoned, secure-ish 27-year-old as opposed to a meager, unsure 20-year-old.

     I'm here to report that I had a decent trip, overall. There were only a few disruptions to my peace. I was in my cousin's room putting on make-up for her reception when my burly, lesbian aunt busted through the door, looking for a camera lens or some shit. Music played from my iPhone 11 Pro from wherever I tossed it on the bed. I don't know what was on, probably "Vice City" by Black Hippy or "Screwed Up" by Cousin Stizz.

     "You're just like your daddy; always playing music," she said.

     "Oh, fer sure! I love him."

     "Ya, you need to not be disrespecting him the way you do." *Record scratching* Ummmm... I... What??? Alright, so let's just take a step back for a hot minute and address some shits. My dad and I have been on great terms for a solid, oh, three years. I FaceTime and call and text him all the time. I have forgiven him for all his misdeeds and shortcomings. Furthermore, I live in Texas and he's in Colorado. No beef here. My aunt is known for sticking her nose in places it just doesn't belong as well as being opinionated as fuck, but my dad and my relationship has always been and will always be the most sensitive subject to me. Soooo... yeah... I have zero clue where that came from.

     "Would you be respectful to your dad?" I posed.

     "I never knew my father. Are you saying you didn't know your dad? Really??"

     "I think that... just because someone has a present father doesn't mean it's inherently positive."

     "You just know one side to the story. You're not considering it from a subjective perspective." (There's this trite rhetoric with my paternal family that my mom "brainwashed" me and my brothers into thinking my dad was the villain of our story.)

     "What do you mean?!" I exclaimed incredulously. "I lived it! This is not hearsay."

     "What did he do that was soooo bad?"

     "When I was in elementary school and we had every-other-weekend visitation with him, he'd always send his girlfriend to pick us up. And then he'd spend that time going out to bars! He'd come home at 2 a.m. and wake us up to wrestle or force us to give him a kiss. He'd—"

     "See, that's your problem: you need to let go of the past. You just hang on to negativity."

     "You brought it up!!! I'm not just sitting in here stewing about my dad!"

     "The problem with your generation is that you think how someone treats you dictates whether you give them respect or not. In my day, we respected our elders."

     "I agree with that entirely. My dad went around acting crazy towards me for YEARS. I refuse to give anyone respect if it's not going to be reciprocated. Got me all the way fucked up."

     On one hand, I can't fault ol' girl. In my professional opinion, I think it's a defense mechanism of some sort. Let me show you how smart/moral/right I am all while feeling insecure and inferior and inadequate. Or maybe she's just a self-righteous bitch and I'm making excuses for her because I love her. On the other hand, what it comes down to is ignorance in its purest form. She and I got into an altercation a few years ago and haven't been in contact since. She literallyyyyy has no clue how my dad and I interact or feel. Zero. None. Zilch. Not an iota. But wants to come out the cut with assumptions? Girl, bye.

     Then, my uncle Lance (whose house I stayed at)... this fuckin' guy. I cannot. He's this staunch Republican who was raised in Utah and Nebraska that I have seemingly nothing in common with. He's pompous, annoying, over-bearing, and, quite frankly, strange to me. I was showing Uncle Ricky "The Social Dilemma", a Neftlix documentary on the societal implications of technology, when one of the producers asks, "What are you most worried about?" Former Facebook executive and Pinterest president Tim Kendall goes, "I think, in the… in the shortest time horizon… civil war."

     "I don't think it will, though," Uncle Ricky mused. He served in the United States Army for 20+ years, has a bachelor's degree in security management, and is an intellectual. Even though I can appreciate his optimism, I disagreed. However, there was still thirty or so minutes of the show left so I told him, "Please hold all questions, comments, and concerns for the end."

No one:

Not a single person:

Not a soul:

No one on planet Earth:

Lance from behind us in the kitchen: "I'm not even paying attention."

Irked as fuck I go, "What???"

He's like, "The minute I saw Mark Zuckerberg it was discredited." 

     I was trying to show my favorite person a piece of art that deeply resonated with me and Lance hijacked it, for whatever reason, with his misplaced sense of egotism. A couple days later, I was trying to talk to my aunt, his wife, about arrangements for going back to the airport. In a vain attempt to make it clear who I was talking to, I stared into her dark brown eyes and positioned my body in alignment with hers. He kept talking over her and interrupting until he finally snapped, "Will you let me explain?!" My aunt retracted, unfazed by his curt demeanor, apparently acclimated to it. I was repulsed. I wish a man would.

     The final disturbance wasn't a distressing event or issue, per se. The night before I was to fly back to Texas and Uncle Ricky was to drive three hours south to Sarasota we stayed up for a couple hours talking on the enclosed front porch. I'm a slut for warm weather so the 70° humidity comforted me. If it bothered my nino, he didn't let on. Before I could even get out my first words, tears streamed down my face. I'm unsure why I cried as I was on vacation in a tropical oasis with people who mean very much to me. Maybe it was the heat or the four-day drinking bender I was on or reconnecting with family I hadn't spent time with in years or the fact that Mercury (the planet of communication) went into retrograde. Regardless, I cried for the first time this year. My uncle was so kind and patient and understanding as I wept. I told him I felt like I was jogging in place. That I didn't understand how I grew up under the same roof as my brother yet he somehow learned how to save money and know his limits and was on the verge of buying a house in Fort Collins, Colorado. That I was at a freakin' complete stop when someone ran straight into the side of my 2010 Hyundai Accent and so now I'm looking into buying a 1999 Toyota Corolla. That his sister gave me $100 to buy my plane ticket and my mom charged the rest to her credit card. That I don't feel like I'll ever make progress in this life.

     "You have to stop comparing yourself to other people," he said. "Everyone has their own journey."

     Look, I'm not the same person I was in 2014. I have made gargantuan leaps and strides in terms of who I am as a person. The problem lies in the stagnation of my external situation. This is my current home: 

     I have a job that doesn't give me status anxiety. I have amazing people in my life who I love and who love me back. I truly have been feeling grateful lately. Going back to Florida seemed to reopen an old wound because I'm sitting here, a week later, feeling waves of variegated emotions that I'm struggling to process. I guess the wound didn't heal properly in the first place so it would be  more accurately considered an agitation; a glaring red flag that I still have some inner work that needs to be done. In the meantime, I think I will listen to good music and soak up sunshine and keep on keepin' on. What's the alternative?

“Aging is an extraordinary process whereby you become the person you always should have been.”

―David Bowie

brother

El Día Perfecto

     "♪ I been goin' silly for the Westside (Westside) / You might catch me rollin' where the reps ride (real reps, real reps, real reps) / Ain't no opposition, I'm the best, right? (Yeah, yeah) / I might take my city on a test drive (test drive) / You don't wanna see me on a good day (oh no, oh no) / You don't wanna see me on a bad day (no, no, no, oh no) / I was just a nigga with some hoop dreams (hoop dreams) / Now, I'm in the league, bitch / Now, I'm in the lead, bitch ♪," your alarm goes. It's 10 a.m. You wake up in your two-story house where your room is decorated as the hippie oasis you've always dreamed of: colorful tapestries, giant amethyst crystals (for cleansing, protection, and inspiration, that is), a simple steel desk with a glass top where an Apple laptop sits, and your dog sleeping in his own bed on the floor because you finally mastered that trick. You're naked because fuck clothes, those smothering, colonial shits. You roll over and come face-to-face with the love of your life. They're open-mouthed snoring with their head titled up and you just smile in amazement that someone as important and unique could bless your presence like this. You go down on them for their alarm clock. And some more X-rated, freak shit continues from there, because you completely trust them and all your insecurities that have been socialized are stifled by low groans and whispers.

     Afterwards, you go in the kitchen where you see the most breathtaking sunrise of your life— that pink and orange and purple husky lighting hovering over the Colorado mountains. A lake rests at the bottom. You smile that coy smile and start cooking brunch for you and your lover. Probably pancakes (because they're your favorite and you project your likes onto others like a motherfucker), scrambled eggs with peppers & onion & spinach, and hash browns because carbs aren't really a concern to ya'll.  

    Then you go to your desk and finish the book you've been working on for, oh, 10 years. Your heart swells with pride and you get a little emotional because that's how your astrology sun sign works. From there, you and your shawty go on a hike not far from your place. Two miles in, two miles out. You bring your camera and take candid walking shots and fall trees and wiley squirrels. You share secrets and accomplishments and failures and laughs and joy.

     You go back to the house afterwards and shower. You have fancy reservations at a restaurant that serves the best fettuccine alfredo with shrimp on the planet. So you go outside to find a beautifully restored orange Volkswagen van. This is your transportation. Ya'll go out and have an amazing time. Conversations about aliens and hip hop and your pets and how happy you are that you both don't want kids because you understand that your own childhood wounds need to be healed before you bring delicate creatures into a world that's slowly deteriorating due to global warming, fascism, and an incorrigible wealth gap. 

     When you get home, you both immediately change into lounging clothes. You go to the balcony on the second floor. The stars are bright and alluring and mysterious. You snuggle on the wicker couch and in front of a fire. You pass a blunt back and forth, listening to a perfectly curated playlist on your iPod. You melt into your love and fall asleep on their chest.

For the love of Goddess

      Please... do not tell anyone I left the house...

iykyk

     The last few weeks I've been ruminating on what my three wishes would be if I encountered a genie. As a 26-year-old adult, that's kind of a fucking stupid and pointless conversation to have with yourself every night before you go to sleep, but I am just so desperate to pinpoint where my life went wrong. Went left. Veered off course.
     Fall of 2009 I was 15; I went to the doctor to get on antidepressants. How long before that was the Sadness manifesting in subtle ways before it started ripping at my seams? Thinking back, I never felt heard. People were always telling me to not be so loud and to stop talking so much. I never felt validated. Like when I used to write letters to my dad when I was 9 asking him why he never called to invite me over or came to any of my sporting events. The next time we had visitation his girlfriend asked me if someone was making me do it, as if I weren't in touch with my own feelings or lacked awareness. Psychologists say children that come from divorced families are automatically broken. Cracked from the jump. I can see it. My mom spent a decent amount of time talking shit about my dad. She told us he was a cheater, a liar, emotionally abusive, lazy, narcissistic. My dad would dog on her as well: how she thought she was Mother of the Year and how she brainwashed us into thinking he was the bad guy. Meanwhile, they were both contributing to molding fucked up humans.
     I wish I were mentally stable. I feel like that would truly have changed the course my life has taken. Maybe I wouldn't have been such a fucking bully in elementary/middle/high school. Maybe I wouldn't have been so angry. I feel bad for treating Justine the way I did. At the beginning of my sophomore year, I used to listen to "Beautiful" by Eminem and "It's Been A While" by Staind on repeat and cut my wrists in my living room late at night when my brothers and mom went to sleep, tears streaming down my face, obsessing over why I was never good enough. Everyone in Peetz thought my family was delinquent trailer trash. They weren't wrong. I started drinking heavy with Paige and smoking a lot of weed with J-Dog. I would party on the weekends, completely neglecting my schoolwork. My grades were low despite my high intellect. It used to piss my teachers off so bad. Originally, I partied because it was fun but after that horrible party in Sterling when I was 19, it stopped being a good time. (You know... the one where I had dropped out of LPN school because I wouldn't stop drinking & drugging, broken up with Traver, and choked Alissa out so Nicole found a country party miles outside of town where I drank a whole bottle of UV Blue, blacked out, took off my shirt, tried to fight Brooke and other boys there, got the cops called so everyone fled since they were underage but no one would give me a ride since I was the one starting shit ((Nicole was supposed to DD but ended up drinking too)) so we had to walk and I somehow ended up getting deep barbwire cuts on my arms and legs. We went to someone's brother's trailer and he called us a taxi. When Nicole went into the bathroom, I had smeared blood alllll over the walls and was sitting naked on the toilet just spitting on the ground.) That truly was the turning point where my hobby morphed into a coping mechanism.
     I clearly had a lot of issues before Lock killed himself but that fucked me up on a whole other level. He was the first person I knew who committed suicide. I'd seen it in movies but it was an abstract concept to me until then. Some people blame Morgan's death on Lock. I can see it. I have dreams about him frequently. Lately, I have the knowledge inside my dreams that he is gone and I try to explain to him that he is but seeing him again fills me with so much joy. Brains are strange. I think about these things MINIMUM once a week. Usually more though.

     Back to the future. 2020. I thought moving to Texas would be this beautiful new start. I've always visualized it as an Etch-A-Sketch: shaking that red square as the pixels of my past disappear before my eyes. I tried to do the same thing with Florida. Then with Fort Collins. Then with San Diego. Rene told me, "Wherever you go, there you are." He's not wrong. I've applied for jobs. They're interested in hiring me until they get my criminal background check. I don't know if it's the Refusal to Submit to a Breathalyzer from October 2018 or the Shoplifting (less than $500) I got a few weeks later that puts them off. "We've rescinded our offer." No chance of upward mobility at this time. Being a waitress at Red Lobster is not where I pictured myself when I was a child. I mean, sure I have an Associate of Arts from NJC I got in 2016 but you can't do a damn thing with that. I've been too poor to go to university. I've tried to do a nursing program on three separate occasions and fucked up those opportunities every single time. I am a criminal and I am a pauper and I am a drug addict.
     Sometimes I get on dating apps and match with plenty of men. I'm too emotionally unavailable and detached and strange to connect on a romantic level. And that's the whole point of living, isn't it? Spending time with people who you love and who love you back? Our animal brains only think about reproducing and carrying on our seeds. I know for a fact I am not cut out to be a parent. My miscarriage with Aaron was necessary & relieving for so many reasons. I know even harder I could never be a wife. Growing up, and maybe this is the Hollywood conditioning in me, all I wanted was to have a husband and a couple of children and a two-story house with a white picket fence. As time goes on, I see that I will never attain these things. A few months ago my mom told me there's eight dimensions of wellness: physical, intellectual, emotional, social, spiritual, vocational, financial, and environmental. I am unstable on every level and have been for a long time. I don't even see how they find this shell of a person appealing in the first place.
     I have friends. I love my friends. They know this. But, fuck, they have their own lives. And anyway, even when I do confess the depths my depression/bipolar disorder has drug me to, they never know what to say. In all honesty, I don't think there's anything in the world that could console me. It's all bleak. Kurz, Whitney, Kyli, Kassandra, Keith, Jenna, Holiday... Marcus & Olivia & Daniel & Izabela & Shalynn & Nina & Mallori... I love my people. I know I can be overwhelming when I send songs and memes and podcasts and articles and comedy. So I just stopped sending them. I considered them extensions of myself and when they were ignored, that childhood pain was brought back to life with a defibrillator's jolt. I'm sensitive, I know. Probably too much.
     I'm so incredibly drained. Tired of being sad. Tired of feeling useless... worthless. Tired of feeling like a bother. Tired of this existence where all I do is sleep my days away and wish I could start over. That I could have been like those preppy Sidney/Sterling girls I used to envy. The ones with self-discipline that took summer trips to Europe and went to homecoming with smart soccer players. I'm embarrassed of the pick-me ass bitch I was with Dillon and Jordan and Jared. I saw this quote on Instagram by Sarah Manguso that said, "The trouble with letting people see you at your worst isn't that they'll remember, it's that you'll remember." And, maaan, if that isn't the realest shit I've ever read.
     My love for my mom knows no bounds. I know that she would murder someone for me. But you can't live for others. Or die for them. That's peak co-dependency right there. All she wanted was a daughter and that turned out to be... me. Fuck, I feel sorry for her. She tried and gave and sacrificed and endured and persevered. She deserves the world, that lady...
     Brian would be upset. He says it's selfish. He says that Lock gave up and left how many people hurt and confused, meanwhile he's still showing up to PHS every fall, putting up with shitty sevies and apathetic seniors fighting the good fight. I agree with him. He's my angel.
     Kevin would be upset. No one I know has ever met Kevin. But he thinks giving up will just lead to your next life being even more miserable. On some karma shit. That you'll have to deal with this life's drama and trauma and issues on top of all your past lives' baggage. Maybe. I'm interested in seeing what's on the other side. And that idea alone leads me to believe I have driven myself truly and completely fucking crazy. Not like quirky Susanna Kaysen or intricate Sybil or silly Kevin Wendell Crumb... Neurotic, delusional, self-pitying Janessa Garvin insane.
     I used to come up with these scenarios... where, even though I'd only visited Lock's house after his death, I would serendipitously show up on Lock's front porch, moments before he shot himself. He would be surprised at the interruption of his plan. I would somehow talk him down and tell him I hurt as much as he did and that we could make it through. And then he would still be alive. I wish [they] would have reached out. Okay, but what if they have? Time and time again. Year after year after year after year. And your answer remains, "It'll get better." But then it doesn't. You still fixate on the fact that you let your mental health get in the way of your career at Broadcom where you called in all the time and put extra hours on your timecard and left work four hours early too often. Or you remember when girls would shower after basketball games and leave the locker room and you would steal money from their purses. You think about the time you told Austin you would watch 2010 A Nightmare on Elm Street and then canceled 30 minutes later and he texted you, "It's not like I went and got it already...." (He was mad. Sad? Why were you so aloof when all he wanted was for you to let him in?)
     I don't have answers. I don't. I wish I did. (This isn't one for the genie...) I desire to be whole and content and appreciative and happy. Not this insatiable, incorrigible ingrate. I've had a headache for days now and just want it to go away. The stress gets to me. I can't forgive myself but I hope you do.

“All I ever really want to know is how other people are making it through life—where do they put their body, hour by hour, and how do they cope inside of it.” ―Miranda July

 ⏷ 

Part 2:

     I guess this makes it seem like the whole 26 years have been unbearable. Untrue.

Off the top of my head, my favorite memory is dancing with Keith & Emily to Adventure Club in the rain at Red Rocks rolling on molly. Perfection. Beautiful. Oh my, was that amazing. Datsik at First Bank Center with Dustin, Keith, & Skyler was fantastic, too— I don't remember if that was just molly or acid as well. Shows were really special to me at one point. 

     Marcus has helped make my adulthood comfortable & easy. His funny ass personality and kindness is an experience all in itself. I love him big. When Olivia, Chantae, & I day-tripped at my dad's house and then his tenant came by & we had to pretend like we weren't balls deep in a rabbit hole. It rained and there was a psychedelic rainbow. ♡ 

     Sol being born. Obvs. What an angel. I visited Ocean Beach in San Diego on a sunny day and was exploring over these rocks and in the puddles were tiny snails, just minding their own business and inciting awe in me. Designing MySpace pages. Just today, on this 90 degree Texas summer day, "Gypsy" by Fleetwood Mac came on the radio and it almost moved me to tears. 

     One day my dad and I were listening to music and making up stupid dances, making each other laugh... I really liked that. Taking naps with my mom. Meeting Mac Miller. When Cassius was a puppy, he would make me laugh at his awkward, adorable puppy mishaps. Holiday telling me about his wild adventures in boot camp. Watching Dave Chappelle stand-up. Corissa and I tripping on acid and her laughing her ass off at me for unlocking a car door with my finger instead of the button. Staying up after a delicious dinner, drinking wine with Lorna as we binge-watched "Sex and the City". Brother Josh playing basketball at lunch in high school, his uncoordinated ass getting furious and struggling to make a basket even when he was only a foot from the rim. Daniel Ryan— everything about that angel child... he means everything to me. Roberta and I tripping on acid in Las Vegas watching "Pan's Labyrinth" and "Ready Player One". Kyli's hilarious jokes and her mellifluous laughter. Whitney Nicole and her radiance and strength. KURZ!! oh my... those 5 amazing years in his classroom and all our texts & conversations since. The books and work Maria assigned. My uncle Ricky's laugh and his gigantic heart. Watching "Wanted". Listening to J. Cole, Tech N9ne, Tyler the Creator, and Megan Thee Stallion albums front to back.

     Some of these may sound corny or boring or unfunny, but I promise, at the time, they were everything I could have ever dreamed of. 

solo

Cranes in the Sky by Solange

I tried to drink it away
I tried to put one in the air
I tried to dance it away
I tried to change it with my hair

I ran my credit card bill up
Thought a new dress would make it better
I tried to work it away
But that just made me even sadder
I tried to keep myself busy
I ran around circles
Think I made myself dizzy
I slept it away
I sexed it away
I read it away

Away, away, away, away, away, away
Away, away, away, away, away

Well it's like cranes in the sky
Sometimes I don't wanna feel those metal clouds
Yeah it's like cranes in the sky
Sometimes I don't wanna feel those metal clouds

I tried to run it away
Thought then my head be feeling clearer
I traveled 70 states
Thought moving 'round make me feel better

I tried to let go my lover
Thought if I was alone then maybe I could recover
To write it away or cry it away (don't you cry baby)

Away, away, away, away, away, away
Away, away, away, away, away

But it's like cranes in the sky
Sometimes I don't wanna feel those metal clouds
Yeah it's like cranes in the sky
Sometimes I don't wanna feel those metal clouds

Away, away, away, away, away, away

❁

morose (adj)

sullen and ill-tempered

the werk

Burt

      If I have a car that's broken down, and I ask a bunch of friends, "Who's a good mechanic?" And they all tell me to take it over to Ol' Joe on Some Street... I start to have faith that Ol' Joe knows what he's doing. They relate their experiences and Joe's fixed a bunch of cars and never had a problem. But until I take my car over there and actually turn it over to Joe, my car ain't gonna get fixed. And so, to me, that's kind of like it says: faith without works is dead. Well, faith without trust is also dead.

      Since I've been sober, I've gone through loss of a parent and looked at life in the pen, bankruptcy, and a lotta things that a lot of people go through in these rooms. And I can tell ya, for me, what I did was exactly what they suggested: I stayed in the literature, I worked the steps, I actually know who my sponsor is and talk to my sponsor regularly, they know who I am, and I work with other alcoholics and drug addicts just like myself; both that're still active in their addiction and also in recovery. And I pray and meditate a lot.

      And those things work to keep me sober every 24 hours. So if something stressful happens, the first thing I do is call my sponsor. And I will go to more meetings. I will pray more. I'll meditate more. It took me a long time to get to the point that I could talk to anyone else because I knew it all and I didn't trust anybody and I didn't think this program would work. By repeatedly taking these actions as suggested, what happened for me is: it didn't matter how I felt, I kept taking the actions. And then I started becoming comfortable with those actions and actually looking forward to them. Believe it or not. It changed the way I thought and the way I felt inside. So it's replacing that old habit and those old patterns that I religiously followed with new ones that're constructive and that changed my life. Now I have peace and joy and I am so grateful for that.

      It always helps me to remember that when Bill W. started writing The Big Book, he was less than three years sober and when it was published, he was less than four years sober. So the quality, I believe, of sobriety is as equally important as the length.

Brienna

      At over two years I still call my sponsor about stuff. "Hey, somebody mentioned this" or "I'm thinking about this". And she'll give me her two cents on it. It's really nice to have somebody who's been there. I have a sponsor who has a sponsor who has a sponsor who has a sponsor. Talking with these women, I know they still work Steps. They're 10 and 12 and 18 and 26 years into it and they're still working Steps. They still go to meetings. I don't know. I'm just really grateful for sponsorship.

      Because sometimes I don't know what the next right thing is. Sometimes I don't know what the action is or if action is needed. So I have to check in with her. I haven't been two years sober since I was 15 years old. Emotionally, and sometimes mentally, I'm still 15 years old. And my best thinking got me here. It's definitely a program of action. Like Burt mentioned and like it says on page 88: faith without works is dead. My god will do for me what I can't do for myself but he won't do for me what I can. If that means all that I'm responsible for right now is to suit up and show up, that's all I have to do. I have no control over the results. I don't have any idea, usually, how my day is going to shake out. When I wake up, I do my Third Step Prayer. I run through Steps 1, 2, and 3, and everything else... I just give it over to God.

      I'm very fortunate. I'm what they call a High-Bottom Drunk. I didn't lose everything. But I lost everything spiritually and I lost everything emotionally and for me, being spiritually bankrupt meant suicide. And that's where I was three years ago. This kind of faith is in The Steps. I have to be looking at different aspects, different facets of my life. It's broken down so beautifully and I have to work them in the order they're written; I can't skip around. When I first came into these rooms, I was like, "Alright, I'll do that one. Not doing a Step 5. I'm not doing any of them that have 'god' in them. I'm not doing that." You know? I was really angry coming into these rooms. I wasn't like You People. I was just suicidal and depressed. I didn't have a problem. After being in treatment for a couple months, that pride and ego slowly started fading. I've learned a lot of phrases like, "How free do you want to be?" How willing am I to be honest? How willing am I to do things that my sponsor suggests that, in the beginning, I was like, "That's not gonna help me stay sober."

      My very first day out of treatment I was helping my first sponsor move and she said, "Alright, well, me and my husband have to go run some errands and everything so we're going to leave you in the house alone." She had 24 years of sobriety at that time. She said, "I want you to pull all of the nails out of the walls and fill them with this putty." And I was like, "Are you serious?" She just let me move in here 'cause she needed slave labor, you know what I mean? I'm not down with this! And she said, "Do you want to stay sober? Are you willing to do anything to stay sober?" And I was like, "Maaaan... I guess so..." I was crazy and my brain went all sorts of directions: I could leave the house. I could find something. I could probably find somebody that I worked with that could get me some weed. I could probably run across the street to the CVS and buy some... whatever. My brain went a million different directions. And just asked me, "Can you follow directions?"

"Sure."

"Okay. Pull these nails out of the wall, fill them with putty, sand them down."

"You got it, sis."

      So I did that. And all-of-a-sudden, four/five hours later, they come back and I'm still sober. And I didn't think that that was gonna happen. It's the weirdest things. My sponsor gives me the weirdest assignments and somehow, if I'm willing to do it and I take the action, God blesses the effort. And I stayed sober. And I was amazed at that... that that could work like that. So now, I've seen it over and over and over in my short time of sobriety: if I put in the work, God will bless the effort. Even when I don't like the way that it's going, even if it's not going the way I think it should, that's the whole deal on surrendering it to God. He knows his plan way better than I do. I'll burn the bridge I'm standing on so you know I'm serious about my crazy. I don't play. And I'm really grateful I don't have to live like that anymore. I'm grateful my god brought me to A.A. and A.A. brought me back to my god.

      I've seen some people in here that've gone through some things that I can't ever imagine. My grandsponsor lost her mother earlier this year and that's one of my biggest fears. I don't know if I could stay sober if I lose my mom. And I see people do it. Ya'll show me. And that gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, if I stick with this deal long enough, I'll be able to weather those seasons. And I'll be able to weather those storms with a god that I don't understand. I'm really grateful for that today.

Two Steppin'

2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

Patrick
      I think Step 2, for me, was the first actual confrontation with fear that I found in The Program. I feared not being in control. I feared having to believe in this god that I didn't have a relationship with. Came in and I was like... trying to find God in a bar. Or trying to escape God, I should say, in bars. In dope houses. And everywhere. Coming to A.A. thinking, "Okay, I'm going to escape God in A.A. meetings." And sure enough: everyone talking about God when I get here. And I was like, "Damn it! I can't get away!" I can't escape 'em. But I really think that that was the main thing of why I was so hesitant on Step 2, because I feared a Power greater than myself.
      And I just kept coming back and kept coming back and started to work the steps and understood what was going on as far as... yeah, I was insane. Yeah. Oh, there's no doubt. No doubt. My record shows that and there's two little boys that can bear witness to alla that and two old viejitos in San Angelo that'll say, "That motherfucker was insane." That was all really, really evident.
      The God thing, man, I didn't understand, but I saw it in You. The whole miracle thing was what got to me. Because I came in and I was happy, joyous, and free, and I was like, "Yay! A.A. this!" and "A.A. that!" and "Gonna get my Bill W. tattoos!" and all that stuff. I was gung-ho, man! And ol' boy was like, "Man, you got some peace and serenity going on there."
And I was like, "Yeah, I do!"
And he said, "You do or God did?"
And then boom! it kind of hit me.
He goes, "Because I saw you when you came in. I know what you looked like when you came in. And that ain't you."
And I was like, "Holy shit, he's right..." You know? Something did this. I didn't do this. Because of me, the evidence is on the wall. Is in the manila folders. It had to be God... it had to be.
      And that's when I came to believe in a Power greater than myself. That's when I started to realize that God did this. God had removed this obsession. I think the whole time I was walking through the forest, God was trapped in that plexiglass container that I had him in. He was just beatin' on the wall, "Hey! I'm over here! I'm over here! Wake up, motherfucker! Wake up!" And I never did. I never did until I came in here.

Danielle
      My life's been a journey on this Higher Power thing. I was raised Catholic, you know, went to Catholic school and just figured everybody's going to Hell. I think that's all I ever heard in church was, "We're all going to Hell," so I believed that. Then when my parents got away from the church, we stopped going and I just stopped doing any kind of religion. Faith of any kind.
      So when I first got in The Program when I was 22 I was so lost... I mean, I was grateful. I was super open-minded and willing to believe what ya'll told me. I could have this God of my own understanding and I was like, "Yeah! I love it!" And I got real gung-ho for A.A. I got the A.A. tattoo. I was like, "Woo! This is so awesome!" you know? And that went on for a few years. And I was super involved. Then I got my life. My self-will kicked in.
      Slowly but surely, the change from relying on my god to being like, "Well he's there... I still believe in him. But I'm doing a really great job right now and don't really need his help." And then that's where my life fully shifted into self-sufficiency and self-will and what I wanted and what I was doing. And, you know, it worked for me for a period of time. It did. All these things happened; I just felt like God wasn't really part of it. Just look at what Danielle was doing.
      I like what the reading talks about because, like the first part of it says, the obsession to drink had been removed. I did not think about drinking. I went almost 11 years without taking a drink and it was gone. That wasn't how I lived my life anymore. But then, when it came down to it, when this cunning, baffling, powerful disease showed up, I didn't have any leg to stand on. There was nothing between me and that first drink. Because I turned away from God and I didn't need him anymore. Sure enough, when that moment came, I picked up the drink.
      So I know today that I will forget. I have to keep coming here. I have to keep doing this work. Because my mind wants to tell me that I'm good on my own. I've got this deal. If I don't keep being reminded, I will always default back to Self-Sufficient Danielle, here she goes running on self-will, let's just make some stuff happen. And I'll run myself into the ground. And I can't do that again. I barely made it back in here this time and I don't want to live like that, you know? My will doesn't work out and if I let things go, things are always better but like I said, my default mode is Danielle's will.
      I have a Higher Power in my life today but it's been a lot more challenging this time because I'm the one that tried the way of faith and lost it. It's been a struggle to really develop that relationship. I cannot deny that my god has worked in my life. I can't. And even the time I turned away from him, I can still look back and see how he was working the whole time. And I'm grateful for that because I wouldn't have the life I have today if it wasn't for that. And I believe my Higher Power led me here to this room and helped save my life.

David
      I wasn't raised around God or in church or anything. I really came to believe in a Higher Power of God in this Program. I've seen the evidence of it... working in my life and working in other people's lives. I see God on The Walton's and Little House on the Prairie and stuff like that when I was a kid and that's basically what I knew about God. Some preacher standing in the middle of the river talking about, "Everybody's going to Hell." I knew that part of it—the going-to-Hell part—I heard that enough just being a little bit older than a toddler trying to dig to Hell, you know? I'm gonna dig to Hell and find out where Hell was.
      But this Program says I need to have a Higher Power and pray to a Higher Power. You know, I did some praying in the penitentiary back in 2005 and they were just some basic prayers.
"Let this shit end."
"Let me go somewhere."
"Let me have a life."
"Let me really try."
"Let me do something."
      I got sent here to Abilene and I went to work. This place I started out at wanted me to go to Life Group church and parole wanted me to go to A.A. or N.A. and I'd always been good at manipulatin' shit so I got to the Life Group for church. I didn't have to go to N.A. or A.A. I did well for several years and then I thought I could ease back into my other easy comfort areas. And I remember them prayers, you know... them prayers stand out in my mind 'cause I never really prayed before. And them prayers all came true. Real quickly. And real out-of-the-blue. I got to start a life here. I got basically everything that I had prayed for.
      So when I came into The Program about seven years ago, I'd been sober for four years. I just did what everyone told me to do. They told me I needed to pray, told me I needed to do this. The incremental amounts of something that I do in this program or around this program or outside of this program today are things I didn't use to do. Just that evidence of me being free and not having the problems I used to have and all that gone away by this program and by praying, then I truly believe in God. And I get to see it in other people that come in and start their recovery and struggle through their recovery and come up. That's how I see it.

Maria
      When I first got sober, I'd read The Steps on the wall at my old home group, and I remember reading that "would restore us to sanity." So I would always think, "Well, was I really crazy? Did I do crazy stuff?" And I came to the conclusion that yes. 'Cause who goes and sells a car to a junkyard and then walks home? That's insane. That's crazy right there. So yeah... I was a bit crazy.
      At any rate, it tells me: surrender, hope, and willingness. I have to have willingness to do something. Something has to break if I want to change my life. You know I can't expect to walk in here and let you all change my life for me. There's work to be done. This is presented to us... God make that covenant with me when I got sober that day November 2006. He said, "If you get sober, I'm going to give you a life beyond your dreams." And he's given it to me. I can't say he hasn't.
      Because I was raised Catholic, too. I was raised, "You're going to  Hell. And you're gonna go to Hell. And everything you do is gonna take you to Hell." And I said, "Let's go. Let's go with guns blazing. 'Cause if I go down, I'ma go... go down or go home. What's it gonna be?" I always thought that.
      I came in with a conception of a god that I used to know. But, see, sometimes it's better to come in with a conception of no god. I already had that mold. I already had that profile of the god that I knew. So when I got here, I had to change that. 'Cause it was never God that let me down; it was me that let God down. See, that's where I look at the insanity part. I was so crazy all this time thinking that I was controlling my life and that I was keeping myself out of situations. No, God kept me out of situations. Because I should be in prison (real women's prison). God saved me from that insanity; he let me go to another insanity so that I could figure out that it was him that was in control. It took me a long time... took me three years in recovery to do that. 'Cause I didn't come in like, "Oh, I'm gonna surrender!" Fuck, I wasn't going to surrender everything. I'll give you something that I can't handle but I can take care of the rest. I don't need you for all that. No. I can't handle nothing.
      It's just the miracle of allowing yourself to let that go. And sometimes our pride and ego will not let that go, so we stay sick. Some of us sicker than others. Sometimes I can be real fuckin' sick. I like to keep my circus at home, though. I don't like to take it out on the road. I really don't like everybody seeing all my insanity. I'll call my sponsor for that! Or she calls me and says, "What's going on??"
      I love this program. A.A. is my first love. God and A.A. is my first love. I love my husband and I love my children but if I didn't love God and I didn't love The Program I wouldn't have a husband and children.

Josh
      As far as the god of my understanding part, that works for me because the concept I had of a god wasn't equalling up to what was being presented to me at the time... before I got to Alcoholics Anonymous. And understanding how Alcoholics Anonymous works for me in the rooms is being able to see eye-to-eye with a person that has the same issues that I have because it's been too many times that I've sat with a person that can go into a bar, sit down and have a drink, and then leave, and have a regular life afterwards. I don't understand how they can do that. They're like superhumans to me.
      From the same side, if you turn the fold in, they can't understand how you can be so addicted to a substance that it can ruin your life. "You're choosing this over me!??" They just don't understand. And having to get into a conflict with them, it just... it can tear your soul up. So coming into a room with individuals that know and get what's going on to where you can vent and feel 100% understood with what you're going through, it really plays a big part in feeding your soul and feeding your spirit.
So yeah...
These rooms really do work.