Beautifully Me and Sober

I am, without a doubt, my own worst enemy. I set unrealistic standards for myself and then ridicule myself when I don't meet them. I constantly remind myself of all the mistakes I've ever made, cringing and angry. I ruminate over the terrible things I've done until I feel worthless and like I am the scum of the earth. I push people away because at the end of the day I can't pretend to be the person I want them to think I am. I will never forgive myself and haunt myself with my own fears and past choices. I beat myself up. I actively humiliate myself. I publicly shame myself. I make my own life miserable every chance I get. I didn't realize how horrible I was to myself until I had no one to blame for my misery but me. This last weekend I vented to a friend. No, I straight up vomited on her for hours about how disgusting I am and how miserable I make others and how people will never forgive me and how awkward it is to be around them and blah blah blah. I thought i

Lately I've been thinking about what it means to be addicted. There's a huge stigma around having an addiction or being an addict. It's as though people believe that being an addict or having an addiction is meant to go unspoken or meant to be looked down upon. The truth is, everyone has an addiction. Think about that for a moment. Everyone has a boiling point. Everyone turns to something when they can't handle what's going on in their life. For me, it was alcohol. Every time life became too hard or too messy, instead of dealing with the problem, I would drown them. My body learned what I was teaching it and began to exacerbate every little life moment in hopes that I would feed the same monster over and over again in the same way. Not good. However, studies have shown the same reaction with cigarettes, drugs, sex, sugar, chocolate, caffeine spending, and even diet and exercise. The point is any and every thing in life is only good in moderation and not meant to be

One of the events I've tried to master is throwing a party without drinking. I actually love everything about parties. I enjoy watching my guests have a great time. I have a blast making snacks that take 2 hours to prep for and even longer to perfect and make. I am excellent at all of the usual party games: beer pong, flip cup, quarters, cards, 2 truths and a lie, and most board games. You name it I've played it and who doesn't love winning all the time? Lastly I enjoy hosting and being able to play DJ. I'm a nurturing soul anyways, when I'm throwing a party that's my whole job. I love listening to people and then either helping them confront their problem head on or convince them to move forward. I LOVE it ALL. The problem comes from one of two things: one, you throw a party and do not have alcohol or two, you throw a party and allow alcohol. Both avenues are problematic for me. The first option repulses most guests. People can be your BEST FRIENDS but if giv

For the longest time I believed and expressed the fact that I was weird. I loved getting messy, collecting trinkets from antique stores and little shops, playing quest filled video games, writing stories I'd never finish, and singing randomly wherever I went. The world would look at me with confusion and even sometimes disdain but I kept trekking forward. After a while when I realized the majority of the world couldn't process my behavior I began to call myself weird.  At first I glowed at the fact that I was weird. People would invite me into their worlds and I wouldn't go and somehow deep down I felt better for being set apart. After years of this it began to feel lonely. I had family, sure, but they didn't feel like the friends I so desperately wanted. Inevitably I began to dip my toes into the habits and nature of the world. I dressed up and it felt good to look my best. I drank coffee and it made me sophisticated to have this magic substance that never got drank

I have never had a green thumb. For the longest time the running joke in my family was that I had a black thumb. Even if I wanted to keep simple house plants alive they’d be deceased within the week. So, you can imagine my positive outlook when I realized that gardening was next on my list of hobbies to try. Before the summer season started a co-worker of mine gave me three plants and said, “It’s impossible to kill them. They will be great for you to learn with.” Of course while she’s encouraging me I’m nodding and smiling but I’m thinking, if only you knew. So I take them home and water them here and there and after a few days they start to wilt. I forgot to put them in the sun. So I rush them outside to give them sunlight, and forget them out there. OF COURSE a frost comes in the middle of spring and turns my plants into spinach. Not the beautiful leafy spinach but the yucky kind, you know, the kind that comes in a can. I remember that I left them outside after two or five days of

I spend a lot of my life in the loudest silence possible. I've been sitting in my seat for the last three hours completely enveloped in my internal conversations, thoughts, and conflicts. I had no idea how quiet I actually was until I realized that, while I was deeply involved with my own conundrums or dreams, I would not say one word outwardly for hours on end. This is not necessarily a bad thing, on the contrary sitting in silence can help you unravel your day. Sometimes I wonder though if, in my silence, I am creating more destruction to my healing than rebuilding. To figure this out I saw no other choice but to.... TRY AN EXPERIMENT 🤔 I keep a journal of my thoughts and feelings. I do this to figure out on my bad days what triggers or activities took place to bring about a not so good day. I also do it to assess situations that I could have handled better and write down about 5 choice responses to have fresh at the forefront of my mind for the next confrontation. I kept trac