I’m trying.

But if you’ve never struggled with any type of addiction, you couldn’t possibly understand the pain of what happens when you let it go. The changes that occur in the mind, body and soul. The amount of times I’ve started a text message and deleted it, or hell, even hit the call button and hung up before it could ring- more than I care to remember.

It’s hard when you’ve given a piece of yourself to someone else and have to let them go. And the fact that they have finally stopped reaching out because they know how much pain it brought you.

That’s love. Respect. Knowing that reaching out will only cause me to take some steps backwards. But it’s so incredibly hard. At this moment I just want to call. To share parts of my life that have changed. To hear how this person is doing.

Did any of the pain go away? 

Are they finding joy in new things or people?

And even as I type this, I’m fighting the urge to reach out. 

Love is beautiful, but like a rose wrapped in thorns, it can hurt. God I hate using such cliches, but it’s all my mind can come up with in this moment.

I’m trying. So hard. To fill up this space with friends, walks, cleaning, photography and work. I’ve been putting off feeling the inevitable sadness that has plagued me time and time again. But I know I have to make space for it. 

I know I didn’t struggle this much when I gave up alcohol. I also know I had a huge support system I’d see 6 out of the 7 days a week, for an hour a day. I know that’s what is missing from my life right now.

Because if I could just pick up the phone and get all of this out to a person who understands, I’d feel better. 

It just sucks that I can no longer call the one person who knows every part of me. The person who loves me enough to let me go. 

But I have to believe it’s better this way. 

This is how I allow for change.

Dear Friend,

Why does your happiness
Carry so much weight,
Why does my heart soar
When a smile
Paints your face,
Why do I seek
To carry even the slightest
Of your pain,
Why, you ask
Do I care so much?
You see, for years
I’ve felt a darkness,
Its talons stitched
Into my skin,
For years I’ve tasted
Salty sadness
Oh my lips,
Drank a tonic
Laced with loneliness
desperation and ‘what ifs,’
For years I’ve sought
An antidote
A magic pill, a lovers kiss,
Only to be poisoned-
Blinded by temporary bliss.
You see,
I know that you must face
Your demons,
You must walk through
Darkened caves,
Sweat out your anger
Feel overwhelmed by your fear
And ruthless rage.
I know
You must go through the storm
In order to heal.
So if I cannot take
Away your pain,
I will be your place to rest,
A front porch on a clear night
Cup of tea is hand,
Offering a warm embrace
And a heart that understands.
If I cannot take away your darkness
At the very least

I’ll be your friend.

When I first started teaching, my least favorite thing was giving assessments. I knew how much pressure it put on the students, and honestly it was more a test of memory than intelligence. Now that I’ve got a couple years under my belt, I see their value, not only in the classroom but in life as well.

Let me start my saying that I do not agree with the whole standardized versions of quizzes or tests. As an English teacher, however, I do need to check the students’ understanding and progress of grammar, vocabulary, reading comprehension, sentence structure, and writing. What I do not have to do is create a weekly assessment that works with a single type of learning style. I do not have to make the students spit back a definition word for word on a piece of paper. Instead, I can find ways to assess their learning that allow for real world use of the information we learn in class. 

Because yes, assessments are really the only way that I can tell in which areas my students have a true understanding, and in which topics they need further (and perhaps different) instruction.

Why all this talk about assessments during the summer vacation? Two reasons: 

1. It is the time I begin my planning for the upcoming school year.
2. I was recently tested in the school of life, and passed.

We all face difficulties in our lives, some more often than others, and we all fail. Time and time again. Nobody is immune to failure, it’s a part of what makes us human. But what we choose to do with that failure is important. Just as important as what we choose to do with our success (but I’ll get to that another day). 

Without going too in-depth about my particular life test, I will say that I was faced with it year after year. Sometimes multiple times in one year. Picture a young child sitting at a desk, her feet dangling above the ground. The other desks are filled with adults fresh out of law school. The proctor passes out copies of the bar exam, and the little girl cannot even read half the words on the first page. That’s how unprepared I was for this particular life test I was given the first time, second time, third, forth… you get the point.

Regardless of my failures, life continued to put me through this test again and again. The more I failed, the better I understood WHY I had failed. I learned what parts of me needed strengthening, conditioning and compassion. 

It was not a pretty process. There were intense moments of frustration, when I asked myself “Why do I keep making the wrong choice?” Well, I was doing it the “wrong” way because it was meeting a need in my life. Until I found another way to meet that need, I would continue to fail this test. And if I kept being angry at myself for failing, it would take me even longer to find growth and success.

Long story short, (ish) it took many many attempts to have the clarity to use the tools I had been given in order to pass. And let me tell you- the emotions that came from it, well, they were intense. I didn’t know that being proud of oneself could cause that amount of tears.

In conclusion, as a human being, I’ve seen both the frustrations and wonders of tests. And as a teacher (who is also a human) I have seen a wide range of emotions from my students with regards to assessments.

I think I’m going to do things a little differently this year.

As a teacher

And as a person.

I shared four wonderful years with this man. We met on July 10, 2010, got engaged on November 11, 2011 and married July 12, 2013. I say four wonderful years because the fifth and final year was absolutely hell. 

He was romantic, though he never wanted anyone to know. He was also funny. I remember laughing a lot with him. We didn’t go out to eat a lot, but he would save up to buy things like twin kayaks so we could go fishing. One day when I was in the process of getting my Masters and working, he presented me with a wrapped box of captain crunch. I laughed when I opened it, until he told me to open up the box. He had gotten me a Surface Pro to help with all my work. Flowers on my birthday, homemade dinners and evening walks with the dog. Hikes, frisbee, basketball, fishing, metal detecting, horse shoes and darts. 

When I was sad one day, he pulled out a guitar and made up a silly song on the spot to try and make me laugh. It worked.

I often wish we had met after I got sober and started doing work on myself, but I have to trust that the universe knows what it’s doing. I’ll never regret those years we had together, and I’ve been silently cheering him on from the sidelines ever since.

Today it hit me hard, that in four days it’ll have been 10 years since our wedding. Sadness and regret are at the forefront of my mind as I relive the last year of our marriage. I know I can’t go back and undo things, but 2015 is the version of myself that I hate the most, and the reason I will never drink again.

I’ve given up being upset with myself for feeling sadness over something that happened so long ago. I know I’ve just got to really sit with this, and it’ll pass when it’s time.

I still can’t go to weddings, and I have to force a congratulations and a smile when friends tell me they are engaged. I am hoping one day to get past that, though I’ve already decided that if I get married again, it’ll be in the woods somewhere with a JOP and a photographer.

The phrase “I miss you” is used so freely and often holds great meaning to the receiver. However let’s stop and think about what it really means. It is simply defined as, and I quote:

“An expression of longing to be in the company of someone who is not present.”

Certainly it can be a sweet statement to the ears and to the heart, but we should always take a moment to think about why a person may say they miss us. What did we bring to their life that they wish they had again? Was the friendship symbiotic or one sided? 

“I miss you” can make us think that we meant so much to another person, when in reality they just miss how we made them feel. They miss our body against theirs. They miss the fact that we made them feel wanted, needed, loved and desirable. They missed the things we did for them.

I do not mean to take away the meaning of this three word phrase, as there are times it is said and truly meant in a pure sense. Someone really misses our soul, the genuine connection we shared, the way we laughed, cried and spoke so openly about our emotions. In those instances, “I miss you” is an acknowledgement of the strong bond that once was, and perhaps even an attempt to get it back.

But when “I miss you” is said from a place of lust, it becomes tainted. It becomes a way for another person to sneak back into our lives just to fulfill a need, whether it be physical or emotional. 

I believe we have all been on the giving and receiving end of this desperate attempt to try and win a person back or to be won back, for reasons that are not positive for both parties. So the next time someone tells you they miss you, sit with their words before you respond. Think about their timing, their possible reasons, and whether or not allowing them back into your life is something that would add light to your journey. 

Why am I writing about this? 

To weaken the power of a statement we usually see as sweet?

To make you overthink?

To prevent others from going through  some of the recent pain I’ve experienced from letting the wrong type of  “I miss you” get through? 

In conclusion, I am not saying that we should never use this phrase or take it to heart when someone says it to us. I’m simply suggesting we take some time to reflect on why a person is saying it, if their motives are genuine and if we are going to allow them back into our lives in some capacity.

There will come a day when our self awareness becomes so strong that we can no longer ignore the fact that we have been letting fear control our actions. We recognize that we must change our mindset and our relationship with fear if we ever want to find a peaceful love. Whether it be a love for others or ourselves.  When we allow fear of abandonment, pain, or sadness to enter into the equation, we are taking away space for joy, comfort, trust, growth, compassion and communication. TNH explains that we all have seeds inside of us, but the ones that grow are those that we choose to water. 

Presently my garden is filled with fear, sadness, pain, self hatred, regret and loneliness. A hideous sight that has kept others away. And yet, these are the seeds I continue to tend to and water day after day. Why would anyone ever stop and spend more than a fleeting instant here? Hell, I don’t even want to be here. 

For the first time in a very long time, this caused me to want to relapse. Mentally and emotionally, I checked out. I was sick of letting all of these thoughts dictate my actions. I was sick of being the villain. Tired of watching those who dared enter my garden to be continuously slashed by thorns until they lost too much of themselves. I realized it was time to make a big change.

As we know, change, although beautiful, is not for the faint of heart. I’m terrified because this change will require me to feel alone at times, because I can no longer run to familiar places for comfort. I’ll need to dive into the unfamiliar, and welcome people into my heart that I do not have a strong history with, but that have similar stories. I’ll have to start watering the seeds of hope, trust, courage and self love. Hardest of all, I’ll need to start taking my walls down to allow good people to enter. 

My self love has been at an all time low, and as I lay in bed this morning overwhelmed by searing stomach pain, I know that stress, fear, regret and self hatred are to blame. 

Here’s where things get interesting. Those who know me describe me as kind, thoughtful, compassionate and a good listener. But I do not feel I’ve been successful in forming loving friendships in my adult life. Yes I’ll be helpful, provide my time when someone needs it, offer to listen, or pick up something from the store if I think it’ll bring someone joy, but I do not see myself as truly loving. This is because I do not let most people get beyond my outer exterior. The only people I’ve allowed in have been those I’ve dated, which makes things difficult during the relationship and when it ends.

So, how do I start letting other people in? How do I allow myself to be vulnerable when I always want to put on a strong face? When I pretend that my life is going well so as not to burden others with my pain because they don’t need any negativity in their life. How do I allow people to get close to me when that nagging fear of them walking away is so strong? 

I don’t have the answers to these questions right now, but I do hope to find them as I navigate these unfamiliar waters. 

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and if it resonated with you, I hope you feel less alone. We all really do have battles we fight on a daily basis.

Gratitude was the topic of our meeting today, and although I sat as a silent observer, I thought about all the things I’m grateful for.

Gratitude is defined as “the quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness.” 

First off, I never thought I’d say this, but I’m grateful to be an alcoholic. Let me explain. For so many years I hated the fact that I couldn’t just drink normally with friends. I was annoyed that I had to rely on my own tactics to get through my social anxiety at parties when most could drink their liquid courage. 

But today, after this meeting, I see things a bit differently.

Now I don’t wish this disease upon anyone. It’s not fun or easy by any means, but it has allowed me to grow in ways I didn’t realize needed changing. Since I started counseling five years ago after I put down my last drink, I realized that the chemical addiction to the alcohol was only part of the problem. There was the issue of being a lifelong people pleaser, struggling with codependency, participating in frequent negative self talk, isolating myself, masking any feeling of sadness with whatever vice I could think of, and letting my fears prevent me from trying new things. 

As much as I used to see my alcoholism as a curse, I now see it as the catalyst for my self growth. I respect it now. Again, it is by no means easy, and I’ve seen it continue to wreak havoc on people’s lives. 

Here’s where my gratitude comes into play.

Did my alcoholism destroy relationships when I was actively drinking? Yes. Was it excruciating to watch those people leave? Of course. Did it destroy me at times knowing I caused pain to those I loved? Absolutely. But I was lucky. My rock bottom was low enough to shake some sense into me, but not low enough to have my family abandon me, lose my job, have serious health issues or even die. 

When I first got sober, I was a frequent member of the AA rooms, and I felt such an overwhelming sense of love and support. Then I stopped going for a couple years. Why? Fear. I moved away from my home group meeting 4 years ago and was too afraid to find a new group. To trust a group of strangers enough to really open up to.

Until finally two weeks ago I decided to just go. To find the closest meeting to me and just give it a try. Well, from the second I walked through that door, I felt an instant sense of comfort, support and unconditional love. Calmness, humor and lightheartedness swept through that room and I knew I was in the right place. And so,  after celebrating five years of sobriety, it was time to fight that fear of being in a new place. Because honestly, we all have battles and pain we are trying to heal from, and these rooms are a place I can speak my darkness without judgement. 

I was glad I decided to go to this meeting today, and think about my alcoholism in a different way. I know there will be days when I get upset at the fact that I cannot drink socially, but I hope I can remind myself of all the growth and connections that have come from being an alcoholic. 

If ever there was a silver lining, this is it.

I love you,

I whisper 

As I look into those dark brown eyes

Staring back at me

From the mirror.

I love your kind heart

And gentle soul.

I love the way your eyes close

When you laugh

I love the awkward way 

You dance

In the kitchen

Or the meadow.

I love the excitement

On your face

When you feel the first drop of rain

Or see the beginning flakes

Of snow.

I love how the stars 

Captivate you

As you gaze up at the sky,

Making sure to greet Orion

As you saunter through the night.

I love how you care

For the well being of others,

I love how your kindness glows.

I love your strength.

You fought hard

To not run away,

But to stay

And face your fears.

I love how you welcome 

Your sadness and tears

Like an old friend

Helping you heal.

I love you 

For never giving up,

And for making it here.

I love you.

All the things I’ve missed

While chasing something 

As frivolous as love,

The friendships I’ve

Dismissed

Because all of my time

Was taken up

By this damn crusade 

To find a warrior 

Who would fight beside me

Each and every day.

Oh the things I’ve missed

Searching for something

That doesn’t exist,

Walking war paths 

Without armor 

Watching the blood cover

My skin.

The moments I’ve missed

Looking down at my phone

For that message

Or in a set of eyes 

Hoping they would 

Rescue me from a life 

Alone.

I was so desperate

I didn’t realize

All the things I’d miss

In this beautiful life.