Category: Writing

New Sails

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boats

I would like to note how absolutely crazy it is that just one, short week ago I was here, sitting pretty, writing about relief. My little pen, jauntily noting each grateful sigh. Breathe, I told you. Breathe!

Today, exactly one week later, I couldn’t be further from relieved. I take jagged little breaths that I hold, desperately, and tap my nails on my desk. And what’s worse, I’m a writer who’s unable to find the language for this. Even the right words won’t sufficiently express the twisted inside — the turning of my guts.

I’ll spare you the details of an already dramatic start to the Summer season, but I can’t won’t spare you the nuggets of wisdom that are about to get handed to me. Yes, the lessons are still flowing like fucking milk and honey over here.

I’ve noticed that I always come to some epic turning point when I try facing someone else’s adversity. I think– I’m going to fix this person, and, most of the time they end up fixing me. I go in with gusto. I try to help. I’m a helper! The thing is, while I’m helping, I will get in their way. I’ll get in my own way too. Thus, helping nothing and no one. But, I assure you, my intentions were good. It’s just the follow through. The follow through gets muddy.

Yeah, yeah, I know– ultimately, what’s good for you will be good for me. Yes, yes, All-Is-One, OM SHAKTI OM, and Namaste!  But seriously, here, in reality, where each emotion is its own Hiroshima, that’s a hard path to stay on. All this you and I. We and US…all this combining of stuff is too universal and complicated. It can’t be about US because then, well, what about meeeeeeee…

Why is it so difficult to step outside our comfort zones, our own realities, our STUFF? No matter how enlightened, spiritual, or positive you may be, no matter how many chakras you’ve got lit up, no matter how much happiness is coursing through your smiley-little-veins, no matter how nicely you’ve got your shit held together — it will all come undone. So, don’t be one of those people that allows yourself to think life’s a gravy train indefinitely. It’s more like a gravy boat and, eventually, you’ll have to dock, gas up, and clear out the poop deck.

This week my gravy boat has come a-crashin’ back to shore. Time to clear all the decks. Start again. Same boat, new sails. And despite ominous weather predictions, there is a strange beauty here, at the precipice of a new adventure, I’m able to stand with surety. Afraid. Alone. Undone. But, sure.

I’m not going down with the ship, because the ship isn’t going down.

That’s sobriety. Stepping into something and knowing the outcome, without really knowing the outcome. Some people will call it faith. Others will call it risky business. Some people call it trust. Some, stupidity. I call it bravery. And, I’m told, there is no better time to be brave than when you feel you are the world’s biggest coward.

So, I hoist the sails. I’m going to ride the tides until they throw me.

And, even then, I’m ready to swim.

 

Stay Saucy,

Sarah

 

 

Finding Yourself(ie)

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image

When I first got sober, I thought I knew who I was. But, I wasn’t going to tell you.

Even just a few, short months ago I wasn’t interested in broadcasting my sobriety, at all. It’s never been something I’ve tried to hide, but I haven’t been especially open about it either. For a long time, it was information I distributed on a need-to-know-basis. The people in my life who needed to know, knew. I left everyone else to wonder.

Yet, here I am. Locked and loaded. Fully equipped with a fucking dot com, selling my alchie-soul to Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram. How does this happen?

Simply put, I found myself(ie). That little voice I’d been shhhhushing for so long, well, it turns out, she actually had something to say. It took some time for me to decipher what was divulging too much. I asked myself: How much of my story did I really want to tell? Tough call. Historically, I’ve been a pretty private person. So, it shouldn’t be surprising that sobriety wasn’t the Girl Scout badge I wanted to showcase. For a long time, to me, sobriety equated alcoholism–one required the other. I wasn’t ready to out myself.

It’s not that I don’t have pride in the work I’ve done or the person I’ve become, I sure as fuck do. But, somewhere along the line, I decided that I wasn’t going to let sobriety be the thing that defined me. Promptly following that decision the inevitable question arose: If sobriety doesn’t define me, what does?

zoo

OK, so, I’m no longer shitfaced and miserable. Now what? What makes me tick? What do I want to do now that I’m not glued to a bar stool? I batted ideas around like a kitten for 18 months. I had no idea. I couldn’t decide. And, I wasn’t alone.

The wonderful world of 12-Step provided me with a host of littermates that were similarly phased by their new found freedom from being constantly intoxicated. I started to see a theme. My former-drunk-y pals had either started to run with their sobriety, acting on their goals and dreams, or, their asses were glued to folding chairs in church basements 24/7, clinging to paper coffee cups to keep them from floating off into lunar orbit. I didn’t know which category I fell into. Was I goal oriented? Or, was I just hangin’ on to my cup of Folger’s for dear life?  I came to realize that I wasn’t either. More importantly, I didn’t have to be. I started making my own plans. The 12-Step Kool-Aid is delicious, but, it’s not going to take me to my spaceship.

After much hunting and soul searching I came to discover that: You are my spaceship. Yes, you. Since you’re reading this, I assume you care about what I have to say, or, at the very least, you are so judgmental that you’ve taken the time to note how craptastic I am!

But seriously, this is where my heart is: Writing my experience. I open my mouth, I speak, and I hope someone is listening. And yes, it’s true, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing with my life, but, I will always desire to be heard.

And so, Saucy Sobriety was born: An unabashed look at my sober-life, not my sober-alcoholism. In this blog, it’s me you’re getting–not the alcoholic. Though, I do happen to be one. For me, sobriety isn’t about alcoholism. It’s about freedom.

Finding yourself(ie) is an ongoing process. (So, you may find your iPhone handy-dandy for last-minute edits…)

My mistake was making recovery my life. When I made my life about living, the story wrote itself.

 

My advice: Don’t wait until you have a plan. You don’t need one. Put pen to paper and write.

Stay saucy,

Sarah