To not cut the hair. My SIL came to help me with my finances. Everything turned out to be all-rightish. I even got to pay the rent I had outstanding and one month ahead and there was still some money left. So now I can, I don’t know, relax a little? Having said that: work is slow momentarily, summer season and I do not make a lot of hours so maybe, maybe I will be needing that what I have in order to get through summer.
Well, I did….. go to the hairdresser after looking at my bank account. I had thought that I would let it grow until it was so long that it would still be long if I cut off the last bit of ‘old hair’. There is some symbolism in my hair. The moment I decided I would quit drinking I also had this strange thought out of nowhere saying ‘I might as well not dye my hair anymore’. So the grey hair is about deciding. The quitting date is later because I prepped for quitting for I think about 10 days.
My hairdresser was all for cutting off the old bits since they actually are not totally healthy anymore but I could not. Made me wonder what I was still ‘hanging on to’. I feel that when I cut off the last bit of my dyed hair that I am throwing away the memories of how bad it was. I need those memories to help me shape a new life.
And/even though: lately, already for a long time, I feel like this new life is not happening. Which, in essence is not really true, but still. I have the idea I am standing still. I feel that everytime I am ready to make a step forward, something pops up to keep me where I am. The concussion I have being the latest in that. My nice collegue says about life something like “We have all these thoughts and wishes about life but we forget that THIS IS IT. What we are doing here and now, that is our life.” Which I find really reassuring. Until I find myself undressed, not washed, not fed but eating chocolate, not getting my fluids in, watching Netflix. The concussion was there to change it all. I was sitting, being mindful, no screens, cleaning, resting, cooking, sleeping. I loved it. And the moment I got a little better I IMMEDIATELY upped the screen time to the point where I am not having a headache again, while this concussion happened 4 weeks ago.
I started reading Nakken again, ‘The addictive personality’. I still have much to learn and much to undo. But/and I feel I need to do more. But I also think to know I can’t. Having buried a friend last week was/is a BIG THING. Having asked for help with my finances last week was another BIG thing. I think I need to learn to accept that I cannot do all.
Ooh, above, a cut out of my new and old hair. If the old hair down below it is at all visible. And yes, this is my idea off my hair thinning out I see now why my GP thought I might show a ‘little’ hypochondria when worrying about hair loss the other day …. 😀 (OMG, will I ever learn?)
Ooh, in conversation with my teenager niece: I told her about my egg-timer and putting stickers on it with questions (wwawwlhd?) or assignment (breathe / relax ). She listens to my story and then replies: “I have an app for that, it is called Booster Buddy.” Ghegheghe, do I feel old. 😀 I am computer savvy, have, in the last 10 years learned at least 5 new programs a year amongst which (parametric) digital drawing, laser and cnc router control programs so not your easiest stuff BUT I DO NOT WANT TO BE ONLINE ON MY PHONE! So I don’t have apps. Just don’t want to have to sort this all out in my private time as well. However, trying to get to a funeral by public transport in a panic mode and not being able to think clearly about what bus where and when has changed my mind about this. No action yet though. I already have a subscription with plenty online time (they don’t come without anymore) but I do not use it. Another one of those refusal thingies, hanging on to what I know.
Wondering now how much of the hiding my drinking has to do with not wanting to be connected with my phone. Hmmm…. When drinking in the evening I would shut down my phone and computer by the time I got to the 4th/5th glass because I did not want to speak to others anymore. Did not want them to find out I was getting pissed. Did not want to bother them with my issues because I knew I would not be ‘real’. Did not want to make a fool of myself. Was ashamed.
My friend died. He had lung cancer and it had spread. He was given 2 months but the immense and intense health care that his wife, one of my best friends (Hi A! And… you might want to skip these 3 paragraphs because it is about you wanting to live unhealthily for a few days and my internal reaction to that.) had set up has kept him with us 4 years. :-). He was a beautiful person, with a great, great, brilliant mind, absolutely intelligent. His candle burned at both ends though. His diet existed of all things healthy amongst which a lot of eco vegetable juices. Because of feeling so absolutely low last week I got to juicing again myself. I did so when I just quit drinking and I think it has helped me a lot in feeling well. Last week I needed all hands on deck to keep me afloat. For the funeral I had juiced some extra to keep me going through the day and I thought it fitting for me to say goodbye to him while drinking a juice.
During a car ride I offered some of the juice to his wife and she said something like: “I can’t see any juice anymore. I will be drinking (edit: alcohol) and eating junk food for at least 3 days.” Which I totally understand. I said something stupid like “You have deserved that.” (What?!! When I look at this at mathematical language I am saying that 4 years of misery and losing your husband, father of 2 young children ‘wins’/’deserves’ you 3 days of booze and junkfood. NO I did not want to say that! I just wanted to say that I would not stand by to make an issue of it. That I can understand that she needs to put ‘things behind her’ and that I understand that it is culturally accepted to do so with a period of ‘destructive behaviour’ which – I do not have a clue if this is ‘bad’ or not. Or if I should find that ‘bad’. Or if I should ‘question’ my own sobriety over this opinion. I, I was just very sad that I have in my life, let myself go so badly that I, in this time of trouble, can not join my mourning friend into the land of destruction. To me, not being able to drink with her is a price I pay. And I know that does not really sound like sober language. I guess I have a big misunderstanding here. However, sometimes, like here, things are too big for non sober people to handle and forgetting about them through drinking ritually is a way people deal with this in this society.
Am I happy that I quit? Yes, absolutely. Do I want to drink? No way. Do I feel an urge to drink? No, it still repulses me. Do I feel like I miss out? Not when I really think about it. Do I feel pressured into drinking? No. Do I feel like my friend asks something of me? No. Do I feel like I screwed up and have made myself an invalid? Yes. It is like I cut of my own legs with drinking and getting addicted and now mourn that I can not climb a mountain with a friend in need. Even if that mountain is Mount Doom. I know she never asked, and never would, but I cannot follow where she goes. That hurts.
The morning of the funeral my mother woke me up. She said “You really need to get going now otherwise you will not be in time.” And she was right. I only managed to catch the bus just in time. I thought I had planned enough time but I had forgotten I could not hurry due to the concussion. I really needed the extra 15 minutes my mother gave me. It is funny. In all the 7-8 years she has been dead, I can not remember that she looked me up once. This day the veil between the death and the living was thin.
Actually, I do think she has looked me up. But I do not want her in my life. I am angry. She is dead. Go do your dead thing! Don’t come hovering over my shoulder, again.
I feel guilty when thinking, writing that. We had a fucked up relation. We repaired all of that 1,5 year before she died. But after that my mind, my idea of her, the ‘energy’ in my thinking of her changed back to how it had been before the repair. I blame my drinking for that. But possibly it is also logical because it had been bad for what, 36 years. Dunno. I guess one day I will know. I am scared of finding out because I feel I do her unjust but I am still so mad at her for not protecting me. For not loving me. For choosing my brother over me. For trying to repair that with saying “Now I would choose you.”
The concussion takes care of one thing: I sleep deep sleep again. Did I write this already? I dreamed about how my parents where together. EEEEEEKS!!! What a humongous load of aggression and destruction. My God. Evil. It is funny how, when one (i!) get out of a situation for a long time, the information we (i!) get when getting back in there is tremendous. Tremendously overwhelming in this case. Shit.
I also dreamed about my brother. Stuff I had forgotten. How he fancied me when I was a (pre-)teen. How that teenage sexual curiosity was the reason he did not protect me from the friends who (tried to) rape(d) me. Now that piece of information was eh…. informative. 😦 I had forgotten about it, it showed up in the dream for a few seconds, how he did not know how to handle himself around me and how I disliked that and found it threatening but did not dare to pay attention to is because ‘when they see you are afraid they will get you.’ From these two dreams I did also learn that these feelings that are ‘in the air’, ‘between people’ are REAL. Well, I sort of knew they were, but I always thought I was the only one, well, and the bookstore man. And my friend A. Ooh, and my therapist. I thought others did not know about them. I now know my mother did, my father sort of did, my brother does. People do, ‘they’ ‘just’ ‘do not’ ‘realise’ it. Which is a funny sentence, trying to indicate that every word of that sentence, dunno, can be read differently too. Can’t get my head around it. There is this little gnome in my head, he has a box filled with clamps, nails, hammers and fog and he is using all the tools on my brain.
And from life issues to silly stuff… well, addiction related in my life. Some of you who have followed me for some time now might have read about the bookstore man. I was in love with him, he with me, sometimes, a little but mostly not. Then I practised not being clingy but that did not work out totally. Also he felt stupid around me because I had quit and he had not quit (his 7 or more splifs a day) and I guess I was not tactful there so well, that did not work – not in a love version, not in a friendship version. We were however still Facebook friends but after our last falling out I had excluded him through some specific setting but not unfriended him. I thought I should learn to do that the adult way. And exactly at the moment that I had totally forgotten about him, my settings somehow change and he is able to see all my new posts. I had a concussion so I was not very sharp but I did however, with no conscious thought what so ever, post a question on Facebook which is EXACTLY, EXACTLY, EXACTLY THE MOST HURTFUL THING I can imagine I can throw in his face; in itself it was a general sentence, a life question actually, about projection, but he and I have spoken in length how in his life his parents and others have used this question to diminish his feelings and undermine him. I hate that way of misusing knowledge. That is where ‘spiritual’ people use their ‘spiritual’ knowledge to be even bigger asses than the where when they were not educated. I hate it. And somehow I ended up doing that while not even knowing he could read it… So he unfriended me. Which I think is a very reasonable reaction to what I ‘did’.
What did I learn? I learned that even though we I thought we were not connected I guess we still were somehow. If anybody else would tell me this story I would think ‘Gosh, what a way to get back at somebody and feel that you yourself are in the clear. Bravo! NOT!’ I did not do this on purpose. But I am afraid that does not count between us. However, I can not be aware of what I am not aware of. I will just have to bear that I hurt a (non) friend badly with stupid actions. My SIL says; you must realise that posting on FB equals shouting stuff out load on a playground – worst, it is online and written.’ Well, I did this. And there is little way of saying sorry because I have no clue of where or when he is.
And exactly when I had cut loose totally he like a stupid comment of mine on the page of a mutual friend. FUCK OFF!! I miss you.
I am happy that I quit. Hell yes. Aaw, more like heaven yes. 🙂
I want: my concussion to be gone, my life to be simple, everybody to love me. Hmm, that would be weird… I can not even imagine that. Funny, I wonder if that is reality or limiting my beliefs. 😀
I need: to get to bed and sleep. Eat something and sleep for 12 hours.
WWAWWLHD? Again, I am not wearing socks which means: I am too stupid to deserve care. It is 17:00 hours here and I have not even showered yet. I did eat. I did juice but I did not get any further than that. Well, I wrote this post. That gives some air and clears up some stuff. :-). Need to get away from the computer. And aaah, shit, this spell check button sort of forces me to spell check. ;-).
Hope you have a nice day. 🙂