I too am not a bit tamed—I too am untranslatable

Blog

  • Three days shy of eight months sober.

    The last time I strung together eight months of sobriety was in 2016, over six years ago, & I relapsed shortly after that anniversary. Took me until last summer to get help. I’m scared to be here again. My brain says I’ll fail, & it doesn’t help that I just got taken off one of my meds, a mood stabilizer, so my mental health’s currently curled up in a corner crying somewhere, thirsting for a drink. Or 14.

    Going through withdrawal from this med is weird because I’m realizing it numbed me from my anxiety, my rage, my sadness & mania, but also from my happiness. I’ve cried countless times in the last few days, but I’ve also started singing in the car again. Noticing how the sunlight filters through the trees into my room while I’m working. Appreciating my loved ones more, smiling from the love I feel for them.

    I’m happy & I’m sad; I’m elated & scared. And I’m okay with feeling all of these things, because I know I can handle them as long as I stay sober.

  • burnout/tune-up

    It’s been struggle city here lately in Kirsten land, specifically in the area of mental health.

    Maybe the pregnancy hormones are the real culprit here, but does the root cause matter when I’m experiencing such mental anguish? I haven’t been able to regulate my emotions for months and I become irrational and borderline hysterical at the drop of a hat.

    I don’t remember the last time I felt really, truly happy. Sure, I smile and laugh sometimes, but there’s nothing of substance there.

    I don’t get much done at work these days. I avoid and procrastinate and freeze instead. There’s a mountain looming over me and I feel sure it’ll come crashing down soon.

    Got a new PCP today. He’s upping my Zoloft and referring me for ADHD testing.

    I’m trying to let myself feel the little bit of hope that’s struggling to break through the fog in my head. It’d be nice to feel some semblance of normalcy again.

    This post is all over the place.

  • 3am thoughts

    My brain won’t settle down.

    It’s been screaming for vodka for days, which I’ve ignored, so now it’s feeding me a romanticized version of my life as a drinker. And it’s starting to get to me.

    I’m not going to drink but God this gets so beyond tiresome sometimes. Sometimes I just want a normal brain, not an alcoholic one, not a sober one, not a “one drink away from disaster” brain.

    I love my sobriety and am so grateful for it but moments like these where my brain’s just chipping away at my resolve are exhausting and I don’t feel like hunting for the lesson that I’m sure is buried somewhere in all of this.

    I am tired.

  • book 4

    of 2023.

    I think I read 6 total last year so this is a big deal. I let my hobbies fall by the wayside for too long in my addiction, and now I’m ready to pick them back up.

  • Every second is a miracle

    Less than a week away from 7 months sober and feeling very grateful today.

  • Befuddled

    My brain is pure befuddlement. I can’t focus on anything and my thoughts are zooming around at lightning speed but ultimately going nowhere.

    I am so easily distracted. I was taking a break from work in hopes that I could focus better when I came back, and in my untethered daze I somehow ended up scrolling Facebook both on my phone and my computer browser.

    This is not ideal, obviously.

    I can’t wait until next year when I can be properly medicated and yet again a functional human being.

  • Growing pains

    Nobody told me about the growing pains of getting sober.

    The ache, the satisfaction, of stretching and settling into myself.

    The painful nostalgia revisiting the frantic fever dream that was the before, the sheer relief that I don’t live there anymore.

    The pride, the goddamn pride I feel knowing that finally, fucking finally, I meet the standards for decent human being, that actually I’m a pretty good one.

    I delight in myself. With me is a nice place to be.

  • a reminder.

    I have to keep reminding myself I don’t need to broadcast every detail of my life.

    I’m so inclined to run to Facebook with anything that makes me look good because I want the accolades, the dopamine boost, that comes along with it. But that negates the good of whatever I’m posting, doesn’t it?

    I’m consistently working on doing better. Improving for the sake of improving, not congratulations from strangers. Because that’s what I really want, is just to be better for myself, not the validation of others.

    Boy, breaking that habit sure is difficult though.

  • I’m all jumbled up

    So sad and the air feels so heavy. I keep forgetting to breathe. When I remember, I find myself gasping dramatically in a way that’s probably very annoying to anyone around, but nobody says anything because they know I am “going through it.”

    I am utterly unable to believe that my best friend is dead. I am completely furious at him for thinking he could use again after being clean for so long. I want to shake him and tell him what an idiot he is, and then I start crying because I’m a horrible person for thinking my dead best friend is an idiot, despite still not really understanding that he is, in fact, dead.

    I want to write and write and write about this but I have to force myself to get even this much out. I keep pulling up our text messages so I can see the hearts he sent me the night before he died. I stare at those emojis like I’m deciphering a message he left for me, something that would explain why he had to leave me or just a funny thing that he knows would make me laugh.

    I haven’t laughed in a while.

  • Two weeks & two days ago

    I lost my best friend to an overdose. Fuck opiates.

    Love you, my guy.