I’m resting and watching Katt stream while I take a break from looking at the outline of my memoir. I’m also having a beer. SCANDALOUS, I know, but it’s amazing how, if you’re not buried under so much bullshit from people who don’t want you to exist, you don’t want to self medicate. On Thursday, I had a couple of Blue Moons with another friend over grilled salmon and asparagus and half a baked sweet potato at their place (my non binary friends are excellent chefs), and after the second pint, I was done. I didn’t want anymore, nor did I crave more of it. The (American) football game wasn’t even over. When I was done, I was done. Just like old times.
I talked with my new therapist about this, yesterday, and she explained that addiction doesn’t develop because you’re drinking. Your body can become accustomed to it and then need it, but just like sugar (in normal cases), that need goes away after tapering off and a period of abstinence. You are either born with an addictive quality or you are not. That the reason I was craving so much was exactly how I’ve explained it. I used to drink like a normal person. Then shit happened. I began to cover the shit with alcohol because, after all, it is a source of pleasure, and it calms the nerves, and in the gallons that I was consuming at the time, it helped me to not exist.
I am not going to talk about any of that in the memoir. Or I might, but it wasn’t on the list. I will say that it’s nice to have a pint from time to time without worrying that I’m going to drink half the liquor store, because I don’t want to. My new anxiety med is friendly to the occasional pint or two, and I’m confident that all will be okay. I wouldn’t do it at all if I had any reservations about it.
Oh, speaking of therapist, she lauded the Radical Self-Care themes of It Takes a Village, and was pleased to see how I allowed it to be a positive influence on my decision making in the past few months. She was also pleased with my ability to ignore or set aside fears in favor of doing the right thing. She was extremely impressed with my group therapy appointments, too. The therapies we are going to work with are Narrative Exposure Therapy, Somatic Therapy (with a physiologist!), and Internal Family Systems. She felt like I’ve become quite adept at being kind to myself, but we will touch upon self-compassion therapy here and there as we go.
To explain what I know of the other three:
Narrative Exposure focuses on changing the internal narrative that I’ve learned about myself (basically me retelling the story of my life), and I narrate the stories of trauma that I recall as I tell it. We then work on establishing myself at present as I recall these events, and link the emotions and other sensations from that event to that event (time and place, people involved, etc). I then practice retelling it from a more present perspective. I can name about six events off the top of my head that need serious attention.
Somatic therapy involves observing my body and learning to create a connection between how my body and mind react to certain stimuli at the same time based on my traumatic history. For example, when I am nervous, my shoulders tense up (traps!), When I am fearful, I look below eye-level (just above people’s naval area), and try to avoid any eye contact. When I’m happy, my shoulders drop and I am more physically approachable. Somatic Therapy, from what I understand, will help me develop a deeper understanding of this mind-body connection, so that I can recognize and let go of emotions through self-awareness and self-regulation. She feels that this will be great for me, as I am already very self-aware, I just don’t know what to do with stuff when it comes up, and it goes to certain physical areas (like my traps, which are rock hard, not because I work out, but because I’m so damned tense and anxious most of the time).
Internal Family Systems is the easiest to explain, as it is based on the idea that we have several facets of ourselves. Each facet has its own personality. Like at work, I’m all business, but I have coworkers that instantly start smiling and even giggling when they see me, because they know I’m about to drop a banger of a joke. I’m self-deprecating but on a good level, and I have a LOT of fun up there. I make the place enjoyable while turning out a very high volume of effort. People react to that, and as a result, do the same. At home, I’m chilled out, I play soft jazz or indie rock (most of the time), and I write. Here’s what’s on now:
In gaming, I’m either in discord and listening, or in discord and vocal (because I’m leading), and we have an insanely diverse playlist of music in the background. With friends in person, I am a little more snarky, a little more sarcastic, but jovial nonetheless. All business around my step dad (he’s a hard nut to crack, humor-wise), all love around my sister and niece. But anyway, we all have facets of our personality that act differently in different situations. IFS helps us regulate the facets that are injured or wounded from the traumatic experiences.
Anyway, the last of the furniture made it to the apartment. I now have a bookcase (finally!) and plenty of appliances for my kitchen…almost too many. But I also have actual glassware in my kitchen and not plastic or melamine (the plates are glass, not ceramic). A good friend of mine passed away while I was at the shelter, and his best friend said he knew I’d need some things when I finally got my own place, and pre-packaged a lot of things specifically for me. I did cry a bit as I sorted it all out, knowing this. He even left me a champagne glass from the 75th anniversary party of the local Theater that I used to hang out at. I saw Miracle on 34th Street for the first time there, and not too long ago, either. I should see what’s showing in the next month or so. It might be time to see Miracle again. I’d love that. Just like old times.
But so far as needs go, I have most everything that I need. I need to get a broom and a dust mop, but I do have a vacuum cleaner. On Tuesday, I hope to get my fridge stocked and finally wave goodbye to crappy junk food. I’m so very tired of eating the same over-salted processed crap over and over again. I probably could have chosen better food options, had I put more thought into it, but I’ve been so tired that my focus has been on conserving energy and trying to relax enough to sleep between work shifts. That’s why it pays to have friends who, like me, like to cook.
I’m not setting a date, yet, but I’m planning on having a couple of friends over for dinner on one of my days off in the next couple of weeks. One works from home, and the other has a flexible schedule and can adjust on the fly, and both are prepared. We’ve talked about it, and may make it a sort of substitute for Thanksgiving, since both are far from home, and one of them are here because they left a shitty situation back home like I did (which is more conservative than where we live — and that’s pretty conservative).
I’m so damned proud of myself. To think that 82 days ago I packed as much as I could fit into my car and left that house that is literally across the street from my new apartment in an effort to find a better life for myself, and I’ve done just that. I think the moral to my story (or at least this chapter) is that, if people would leave me the fuck alone, I am very capable of taking care of myself.
Stay awesome, everyone!