Nowhere to hide

My house is a mess. What bothers me the most about the mess is I’m not the one who made it, yet here I am, cleaning up. I just finished work, walked right into this disaster and seeing my family watching Netflix without a worry in the world makes me want to rock back and forth in a corner. I’ve learned recently that resentment is a form of envy. So I guess what I want to be doing right now is sitting on my ass with them, but I can't bring myself to sit with the mess makers.

I’ve got to figure out a better system. But that will take delegating.

I’ve got to talk to my teenager about putting her phone down and helping out, but that will take careful communication.

I’ve got to wash my freaking hair! But it’s too late in the day for that now,

I thought sobriety had fixed everything. That’s how it felt at first, but now I feel stuck, and I can't see the progression as I once did.

I forgot to email the school, cancel geek squad, and get out to grab milk for tomorrow and when my nine-year-old looks at me and says this is the very worst day she’s ever had because her iPad battery died, I taste blood as I bite my tongue and tell her I’m sorry to hear that. It’s safe to say I’m not in a good mood.

I have this insatiable urge to do something about this feeling. I think about running, but I’m too tired, or maybe eating all my kid's chocolate, but my husband did that already. I want to get in my car and drive north till my car runs out of gas, but I can't afford to waste fuel. I have so much to do, too much to think about, zero motivation, and yes, I’m probably getting my period any day.

As I go upstairs searching for refuge, I pass my little one's bedroom. I see her tent bed and think about hiding in it where no one can find me, where I can be alone.

But here’s the thing.

Alone is not actually what I want. Alone will not help me because “I” will still be there. I want to be somewhere that even I can't find me. My life is great, but I want a break, and now that I have broken up with wine, I feel there’s nowhere to turn. That’s the thing about sober.

There’s nowhere to hide.

Drinking always gave me an escape. Drinking was “somewhere” to go be “alone.” It was where I could get away from the mess, my house and my own mind without even changing locations. Drinking made me feel less stressed, less overwhelmed, and it was great because, for a time, it made me feel less human, but it was terrible because, for a time, it made me feel less human.

The price of drinking was too high. The bad always outweighed the good but the trap kept me coming for more. The after-effects of wine made me feel groggy, unsafe, unfocused and anxious. It was the most unfair trade I’ve ever made, an escape in exchange for my overall wellness and freedom. As lovely as it was to have this magical place to hide out. Slowly poisoning myself and living in constant withdrawal doesn’t leave room for mindfulness, clarity and intentional living, which are at the top of my list of priorities now.

I consider replacing it with weed, sugar, or spending, but any quick fix/distraction comes with it’s price. They all delay the hard and pile it up for the future. Positive change doesn’t come from band-aiding feelings. It comes from being uncomfortable. The thing with discomfort is that if you let yourself feel it, it fades while naturally pushing you in the right direction, but if you run from it, it grows and chases you.

You see, being human is hard sometimes, and kids are little miracles/brats that will try to drive you to drink, lol, but that's life. So when I go upstairs, I reminded myself to sit in it. I take a minute and feel all the feelings. I’m mad, resentful, sad, and, most importantly, I’m patient. Then, I take a deep breath and think about how grateful I am to have a house that can get messy and healthy kids to walk around destroying the said house.

The mess is always willing to wait, and no one as of yet has died from milk withdrawals,

One day, I’ll look around, and the kids will be gone. I’ll be retired, and the house will be quiet.

I’ll have new things to stress over, and I’ll be so happy I was sober and as present as possible for all the messes.