So, if you've read certain of my past postings, (and if not, why not?) you may know that I am 'in recovery' from alcohol and drug addiction. And if you never read any of those posts before, well, now you know. I have 9008 days and nights of continuous sobriety, which roughly translates to 24 years and 8 months. As for my shoe addiction, that is one I am still 'practicing', which means, in 'normal people' terms, I am still actively acquiring and wearing shoes. In my defense, that one is much harder to deal with, because, as everyone knows, humans do not need alcohol or recreational drugs to survive, but they DO need footwear in order to survive, at least in this saturated bog we call Seattle. It's akin to a food addiction; where do you draw the line between eating to live and living to eat? It's just in my case it's between 'shoe shopping to live' and 'living to shoe shop'. Soooo, anyway, you can start to see here just how hard it is being moi.
The last 4+ months have been some of the hardest ever of being me. I have had a couple of sudden, unexpected deaths, two very serious illnesses & subsequent surgeries/recoveries, one injury requiring tricky back surgery, all in my family, and it all started off with someone I love telling me they would much rather not be in a relationship with me. Ouch. That still hurts. Every fucking day. Over 3 years ago someone I was in a relationship with also left me, and even though my pride was hurt my heart kinda went, "Meh..." and my head kinda went, "Whew...", BUT! and this is the salient point: the end of that one was followed by job loss & injury (to me), deaths of favorite people and still more injury (to me). So, if I were going to subscribe to 'logic', (Hahahahahahahaha! Good one.) I would naturally conclude that being in a love relationship or it's (meh) equivalent, will always result in a.) it ending (so far that is true, whether by my decision or someone else's) and b.) will always result in untold tragedies befalling yours truly, right? Right??? Well, I mean, if I am going to be all scientific about it and all... So that leads me to conclude that the end of my love (or (meh) equivalent) relationships causes said tragedies to occur. That is, on the surface, some straight up sound logic, bitchez!
However, (I love saying "However..." Have you noticed that? I have) here is where the logic starts to disintegrate: right at the spot where I realize that those things would have happened anyway, whether I had been in a relationship or not, whether I had even been alive or not! - because, and get this, it's not about me!!! Those things are not about me! They didn't happen to me! (Well, except for the one where he told me he'd rather not be with me, that one actually happened to me.) They just fucking happened. And they SUCK! And I. AM. NOT. HAPPY, GODDAMN IT!!!!!
That's the bad news. The good news is that that's OK. Here's how am I thinking about myself today. (Side note: I think of myself every goddamn day. Can't help it. That's why I write. Otherwise all this shit would just rattle around up in my noggin' and I'd start voting republican, or shopping at Walmart or some shit.) I'm thinking, today, that my life before I got clean and sober was like a giant paving project and I spent my entire life covering up those damn cracks and potholes that would appear on my surface area. (Drugs and alcohol really are but a symptom, people.) Now, there are permeable, and impermeable surfaces one can use. If you are a control freak like moi, you will use the impermeable kind because you don't want anything to seep under the surface. You want to control your "run off", so to speak. And that's what I did, but because the 'climate' in The Unikate, or Katieverse, if you will, (Think Benifer or Branjolena) was always either boiling hot or freezing cold or flooding or earthquaking or all 4 at the same time! - I was constantly on pothole & crack patrol, and all my energy went to cover those darn cracks up with that gooey asphalt/tar stuff. It was exhausting. Then, I got sober and I started to let some cracks appear and learn to live with them. The cracks are where I am imperfect and therefore, vulnerable. And vulnerable is where I have to start to deal with the reality of who I am. I even started to admire some of my cracks a little, and grow fond of or attached to them. Eventually, though I had to then learn to properly patch my cracks with eco-friendly surfaces such as tolerance in place of condemnation, and maybe a little calmness in place of calamity, a little tranquility in place of drama. I know. *YAWN* In the last few months some major cracks have appeared, and my first instinct is still to cover that shit up, because I want my street to be all pretty and smooth and for all the neighbors to admire it and for everyone who drives on it to be like, "Ooh, this is one smooth and pretty street right here! We should actually call it a 'thoroughfare' or a 'boulevard' and make it an arterial, it's THAT important!" I start giving myself imaginary commendations on my street maintenance and pretty soon I'm accepting awards from the Mayor and giving commencement speeches. (See??? It's really, really hard being me! But, to indulge in complete truthiness, (Steven Colbert made that one up, not moi) it's also kinda fun.) So I started doing something a little different. OK, maybe I should just be ovaries-to-the-wall honest: for me it is actually COMPLETELY different because inside I am such a judgmental bitch most of the time. And I have always been fine with that. I thought to myself, "Well, it's OK to be judgmental if your judgment is superior" and crazy shit like that. I also am a gossip. I hate to spread such a vicious rumor about myself, but it's true. Now, if you tell me something and let me know that it needs to be kept "in the vault", I will not divulge that, but the everyday 'character assassinating', 'he said, she said' bullshit makes my nipples hard. It is psychic crack to me. So, the 'different thing' now is I started actively patrolling my judging and my gossiping, instead of my cracking. I would go off on my knee-jerk "judging/gossiping" tangent in my head, and I'd notice it, stop, back-track and then say something nice about the person either out loud or in my head, or I'd literally bite my freaking tongue damn near clean off and NOT retell the juicy dirt I just heard about so-and-so. And guess what? When I did begin to notice the cracks in me, I noticed that those cracks are where the light comes through. (Side note: I am practicing this new behavior/attitude, not perfecting it. Sometimes I still blurt out unkind things when I get spun-up in some drama in my head and it's all phlegm-spewing, justifiable-resentment mayhem, and no one gets out alive.) I have to let myself crack open in order for there to be some truth and honesty and imperfection, so that I can be a person among people, and not some high and mighty judgmental a**hole among people.