Category: sobriety

Lightbulb Moments from Sharing Sobriety

I recently shared my getting sober story within a fitness group online. It was a conversation that was real and honest and vibrantly highlighted the lessons learned in early sobriety, from the vantage point of where I am now. It was a great experience to be able to articulate why I find sobriety important and how it has positively affected my life.

“So because you got sober, your life is all rainbows and unicorns, right?”

Uh, no. That is not what I am saying at all. And it doesn’t work that way. (Like, at all.) During our conversation, we discussed the idea of the “Before and After”. Everyone loves before/after shots depicting dramatic transformation, be it fitness, dramatic weight loss, or a massive makeover. (Hello Biggest Loser and My 600lb Life) The dad-bod that gets ripped, the former addict gets sober and then healthy in the after picture, and even my own before and afters with fitness and sobriety show tangible evidence of change.

Day 1, still shot taken from a video.

We look at photos like these and two things happen. One, the person viewing them thinks, “Wow. That’s awesome.” Then privately thinks “Good for them, but that’s impossible for me.”

What fails to show up in a before and after is the truth.

The truth in the before and after comparison is that the part that no one sees is the little line that divides the two photos. THAT is where the magic of the messy middle happens. The thin line that separates pre-and post- life – that is where all the blood, sweat and soul excavation happens. In sobriety and fitness, that’s were the real work BEGINS. It’s where the lying to yourself stops and the dealing with your stuff happens. It’s hard workouts, and meal planning and no more justifications on why you ‘deserve’ a break today. It’s where we discover what we are made of, and that we can, in fact, do hard things. We can swim against the current of a culture soaked in booze. That little dividing line that no one pays much attention to, needs to be widened to reveal what it really takes to get to where you want to go. The after shot? That’s a lie, too.

There is no after.

There is no “after,” no arriving at a mysterious destination of pink cloud bliss. Thinking that “one day I will…” fill in the blank with whatever goal is on the horizon. There is no after because once you achieve that goal, it becomes, “Okay, what now?” In our conversation, we decided to not call them Before and Afters, but Before and Durings, and I love that. Before and Right now….but no after.

Another big take away was a truth that has been thrown at me in various ways over the years, but took a long time to penetrate. I first read it in Don Miguel Ruiz’s book The Four Agreements. It was the second agreement to take nothing personally. When I began navigating social situations sans alcohol, there was a fading of some friendships. I wasn’t invited out with friends anymore…..and, it sucked. There’s a grief that happens with the loss of some friendships (more of that dividing line content). Whether it’s sobriety or fitness or some other choice – when we choose a path that we know is our next right step, some people will not join us for the journey. It’s not easy, and can be heartbreaking, but the truth discovered is that I am not responsible for other people’s reactions to my choices. Additionally, those reactions usually don’t have anything to do with me. It’s not my job to make other people okay. It’s my job to do the next right thing that brings me into integrity with who I am.

The universe (God, our conscience, that small voice inside – whatever you want to call it) nudges us in the direction we know we should go. We are really good at burying it. We numb that voice out with substances, ignore it with distractions, consumerism, endless scrolling and all the ways we stuff it down and shut it out. One of those nudgings that kept increasing in volume until I could no longer ignore it was this uneasiness with not only my drinking at the time, but also who I was versus how I was outwardly presenting. Whenever we’d have get togethers, I would come home and exhale – as if I’d been holding my breath all evening. I wasn’t showing up as myself in an authentic way. An introvert by nature, using alcohol gave me a coat of armor to be the extrovert I thought I needed to be. When I first decided to stop drinking, the people I told laughed. Seriously. They laughed in my face and thought I was joking. It ticked me off at the time, but now it makes me sort of sad. The reality was, they couldn’t see a life without alcohol. It was simply preposterous in their minds. By one simple (and difficult) choice, to no longer partake, I took one step into the direction of authenticity. Those friendships I discovered were not to be long lasting, and while it hurt, the chips had to fall where they did. Getting to acceptance of this didn’t happen over night, but it did happen, and over time, I learned that I would be okay.

This led to a chasing of authenticity that I continue to embrace. We all put on various armor to do life. For me, it was “putting on” extroversion. People do it in all manner of ways – artificial nails, make up, hair dye, fancy cars, designer labels, keeping up with the joneses – all the ways we project that the grass must somehow be greener somewhere else. As we take off the armor; lay down the booze, grieve friendships that were not meant to last (and in my case, that included no longer dying my hair and wearing makeup) we become more authentic with who we are. We continue to become who we were meant to be all along.

Stopping a destructive habit isn’t the end point. It’s just the beginning. It’s the spot where we exhale. Where we can be at peace in our own skin and excitedly ask “Okay! What’s next?”

We continue…

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2000 Days

I don’t think about the day count much anymore, until someone mentions it in sober circles and I pull up the app and take a look. I recently hit 2000 days of sobriety.

2041 days today in fact.

Reflecting back on the sober time – it’s motivating, but definitely not a daily forefront-of-the-mind thing like in the beginning. It is now a part of who I am, a person who doesn’t drink. This isn’t to say that I don’t have thoughts that creep up out of nowhere from time to time. (And I shut that shit down quick.) It’s just more on the back burner, simmering quietly as life gets lived.

The typical posts on socials around the holidays and New Year’s in particular, are often sprinkled with clinking glasses, celebration beverages, etc. but it is also interspersed with Sober November, Dry January and the like. It’s encouraging. Part of why I decided to go “public” with my sobriety is that it provides a counter to the normalization of drinking. It may be one drop in the ocean, but at least it’s there. A happy, content, regular sober life.

I’m sure I would have eye-rolled sobriety posts before I was ready to receive them, and I doubt my little posts are any different for some. That’s cool. There’s a relief in not tying ones emotions to others’ reactions – in life and in sobriety. Other peoples’ opinions are really none of my business. That sounds a lot like emotional freedom to me.

Every sober anniversary I post something on socials about it. Little things, not preachy, but a simple “My DMs are always open” type of statement. I’ve had people reach out, curious. It’s one of the best rewards of living an alcohol free life out loud. If my risk of vulnerability encourages or helps one other person – than it’s 1000 percent worth it.

Holiday Happiness

“The moments of happiness we enjoy take us by surprise. It is not that we seize them, but that they seize us.”

—Ashley Montagu

This morning (2 days before Christmas) the parking lot of the Trader Joe’s was a zoo. People were honking, angry and agitated. The lines were long and no one looked happy. It made me sad, and I kept thinking about how much value there is in steering our life’s mundane activities from a perspective of acceptance. This is a huge part of 12 step recovery programs. Accepting what is, instead of resisting it and being angry about unmet expectations.

An associate of the store came over and asked if I’d like a chocolate truffle while I waited. (Seems silly, but, little things are big). I gladly accepted and savored the chocolaty sweetness on my tongue. When I got to the checkout person, paid and gathered my purchases, I leaned over and told the checker “May the force be with you.” He made direct eye contact and whispered thank you. At the door I was met with another associate handing out mini bouquets of flowers – for free!

Later in the day when picking up a grocery order from Ralph’s, I was informed that my order wouldn’t be available at the promised time, but that they’d call when it was ready. Later, after receiving said call, I made my way back. The parking lot was still a crazy mess, and there was no parking. Again, no happy faces, all of us scurrying around trying to get our things done before the weekend. Calling in to let them know I was ready to pick up my order, I was informed that my order was given to another customer by mistake. Hannah, the curbside associate, profusely apologized, informed me that my order would be free, and thanked me for my patience. About 15 minutes later, I was informed that they had my order, and was I still here to pick it up….but also that there were a couple of items that were out of stock.

No problem. They were kind – it was hilarious to me at this point. They had likely been yelled at by other customers all day and there was no need to add to their stress. Having worked in retail, I get how brutal it is this time of year.

Hannah made her way out to my car and said, “I don’t believe we are out of these items they said they were. Can I go back and grab them for you?”

“Oh you really don’t have to do that. I know you all must be insanely busy at this point,” I replied, figuring I would stop and get the last 2 items at another store.

“It’s really no problem – give me 2 minutes!” and she dashed back into the store. She returned with 3 brands of each item and let me choose. I thanked her again and marveled at how I will always think of this incidence when shopping, but that they’ve made a loyal customer for as long as we are here.

All of this could have gone so differently. I could have been bitchy and raged about the inconvenience of having to make multiple trips across town. I could have let the anger of other parking lot drivers seep into my attitude. I could have taken my irritation out on the people waiting on me.

One thing that became apparent when I stopped drinking, and dug a little deeper, was how the 12 steps were more than just a guide to no longer drinking. It’s that, for sure, but it’s also a plan to lead an emotionally adult life, ie, take responsibility for our actions and doing the introspective work needed to be at peace in one’s own skin, regardless of what is happening around us. To, as a friend of mine says, “Shed peace, not discord, wherever you go…”

Shed peace.

Even during the chaos of a grocery store 2 days before Christmas.

And sometimes it even means chocolate, flowers, and free groceries.

When Dad Buys You Lemons…

“Can I go with you to the grocery store? I have a list.”

“Uhhh, okay,” I responded from the shower. “What did you need to buy?” I asked.

“Lemons, sugar, a pitcher, cups, and straws. PLEASE Mom! Please! I have always wanted to do this. It’s summer….”

She’d been asking to do a lemonade stand for quite a while. Like 5 years awhile. Maybe longer. I’ve put her off for various reasons. She was too young (read: I’d have to do all the work), we were busy or had other plans that weekend, whatever. The timing just never seemed right.

Me, thinking, “Well, I don’t see why not. We aren’t camping this weekend and there isn’t much going on. I think we can make that work.”

(Insert squeals of delight and frantic planning mode turned way up).

After getting items from her list, and 10 lemons (surely that should be plenty) we set up shop in the front yard, complete with canopy and “decor lemons” and her eye-catching poster:

She could barely sit still. Her excitement was met with a very supportive military community. Lots of friends and neighbors came by to grab a glass of Lil’ Miss’ yummy recipe. Great teachable moments sprinkled throughout the afternoon and evening, including the difference between sales and profit, costs of doing business, supplies, and record keeping. Live, hands on examples that will likely stick with her longer than just talking about abstract concepts.

Running out of lemons, I zipped to the store to grab 10 more! She went through pitcher after pitcher! (And multiple batches of simple syrup.) She decided to set up for Saturday as well. Lucky for her, Dad did a bit of shopping!

Yay for the Costco sized bags!

“Thank you thank you thank you! This is amazing!” she hollered, dancing around the kitchen. “We are going to have lemonade for dayyyyyys!” Turning serious for a moment, she said, “Seriously though, Mom, I want you to know I am super grateful. This is going to be sooooo FUN!”

I stopped in my tracks. “Who is this kid?” I thought. I remember playing and eating candy at 10 years old, not being grateful! Ha!

Saturday morning, she walked out saying she had “THE PERFECT SHIRT”! I turned around to see her in what is actually the perfect shirt for a lemonade stand.

Those with kids and bleeding ears have likely heard The Duck Song.
In case you haven’t heard it, here it is for your listening pleasure 😂 My kids still think it’s hilarious.
  • The base police made a quick stop!
  • SO MANY lemons!
  • Even her brother came to “show support” 😂

She sold lemonade all day Saturday and went through 52 lemons! 🤯 We have a pitcher leftover, but we aren’t mad about that! It’s quite tasty. My kitchen looks like a yellow bomb went off, but it smells delightfully fresh! Luckily the mosquitoes that are notoriously awful in our area weren’t too bad. To be sure, Eric sprayed the front yard with yard spray hours before her set up to allow for enough time for it to dry. We battled wasps and hornets (not to mention fears) and ended up moving her stand to the other side of the driveway to get away from what we think may be a nest in a tree.

Surviving the insects, we talked about all kinds of things, idle moments that generated top of mind musings as well as deeper conversations. The lemonade stand served as a vehicle to just be together with minimal distractions. There was a time when I never would have had the energy, or honestly the desire, to do anything like this. While I was drinking this would have been a no-go. I am so thankful for these reminders of my why. I love being present with them just to chat – about the mundane, what they are thinking about, their thoughts about different situations – all of it.

Who knew a little lemonade stand could be more than just some tasty beverages?!

Plot Twist!

Riding down the road with the family towing our new (to us)-going-to-be-the-best-summer-ever-camper, I gripped the “oh $h1#!” handle on my side as the vehicle miles in front of us tapped his brakes. My husband laughed as I told him, “I love how the dumb handle in the car gives me the illusion that I could in anyway affect the outcome of an accident.” Like my grip on this handle will somehow magically apply the brakes and save us all from plummeting to our deaths. The car was so far ahead of us, even I had to laugh at my disproportionate reaction.

I have a delusion that I am in control. Of all the things.

We recently found out we have a plot twist to the plans of the next couple of years as we transition out of active duty military life. This transition (after decades) is a big one, but also incredibly exciting. My anxiety definitely kicked up a notch or 6 as we continue to discuss what we want, where we want to live, second chapter prospects, kids’ schooling, etc. There are so many decisions to make over the coming months, and many questions that will be answered in time.

This month I celebrate 4 years of sobriety (YAY!). Pondering the plot twist made me wonder what it would be like if I was still drinking. I would likely drink AT the transition, in a feeble attempt at quelling anxiety, not recognizing that I would only be adding piles of shame, guilt and more anxiety on top of everything else. Using alcohol to not be in my head about whatever situation never makes it go away, and in fact makes it worse. When drinking, I would eventually get to an acceptance place when big things happened, but it wasn’t easy or quick by any means. Worry is like a rocking chair as they say – gives you something to do, but gets you no where. Instead of numbing out, I’m feeling ALL the things. The recognizing that one chapter is ending but a new one is beginning. Both sides of the coin, excitement tinged with a bit of sadness, as we consider options.

Feelings are nothing but currents of energy. They pass through as long as I don’t white knuckle grip them by worrying and stewing, like I’m actually in control. Staying present, taking each moment as it comes and just breathing. Everything always works out. It always has. Even hard stuff. Even the messy, emotional, exciting and terrifying stuff. It always works out one way or another. In the meantime, this will be the summer of amazing adventures, many decisions, and a BAZILLION camping get aways! Perhaps I will even learn to become less of a control freak backseat driver! Three of the four of us are vaccinated and we are ready to bust out of this bizzaro quarantine time and have some FUN with the peeps we love. This may be the plot twist we never knew we needed. At just the right time.

All the Time

Walking through the grocery store, I have thoughts and opinions all the time; ‘Don’t buy that – you don’t need it,’ or ‘Ooh! that lettuce looks fresh, I think I will make a salad later,’ or even ‘I’m tired, I know I’m going to order takeout tonight, but my kitchen will be stocked tomorrow when I’m ready to prep and cook!’ When you have social media, when you are around (and talk to) other humans, watch tv, see and hear advertisements – basically being a human – you form opinions, right? Of course. We all do. About all of the things.

One thing I did not expect when I stopped drinking was to see the pervasiveness of the promotion of drinking culture everywhere. When I drank, I found the cute workout/drinking memes cute and funny. If I was being honest with myself – I also found them comforting. It was comforting to know I wasn’t alone. I felt relief that I couldn’t be the only one who wanted and needed to justify overconsumption. If something is cute and funny, that disarms it and makes it less harmful/dangerous/addictive, right? If the marketing is to be believed, it sure is. It’s weird recognizing bullshit once believed.

Case in point; I found this “gem” on my social media feed. Multiple times from multiple people.

Seriously?

Food is magic for sure. Over time, eating healthfully reversed my own chronic diet-related disease. But I don’t think one bunch of asparagus is going to save my liver if I drink regularly.

While I am not a rancher, I do recognize a load of bull when I see it. Perhaps a better way to alleviate a hangover is to not have one.

By not drinking.

Just a thought.

Scary

I have this thing: apparently I like to scare myself. I jump into things and then figure out the how. I ran track for 3 weeks in the 8th grade and then decided I hated running. When I signed up for my first running event, it was only because my friend said it was doable and dragged me along. I knew I could walk if we needed to, and we were actually doing this “let’s get fit” thing. Running races wasn’t something I thought I could do, let alone enjoy.

At 33 and post-baby #2 (over the course of 7 months while living in Hawaii) I did things I never thought possible. I ran a mile without stopping. Seems small, but it was big for me because I never thought I could.

Until I did.

It became longer. 5ks, 10ks, and even half-marathons. (That’s 13.1 miles. On feet.) It seemed insane, but when surrounded by others setting and smashing goals, the impossible seemed possible. Like, why couldn’t I do those things, too? At a get together during this time, over wine (back when I still drank), I made the slightly tipsy decision to run a marathon. I had lost weight, was working out (HARD) 5-6 days per week, and oh, why the heck not?! Never mind the fact that only a week before the marathon date, I’d already signed up for the Kualoa ranch Xterra half trail marathon. (Trail running DOES NOT equal a regular road race. At. All. Trail running is WAY, WAY harder.) But someone at the party said ‘It’s really very doable,’ as she explained a run-walk strategy. Impossible….becomes a maybe…becomes possible.

Our time in Hawaii taught me many things, including how to set goals for myself, how to dream big – even if it scares me – and that I can be a determined person when my mind is set. With 2020 being the circus it was, and the world in the chaos that it is, family, sobriety, and the bike in my living room that goes no where have been my outlet and sanity.

I haven’t run races in a few years due to injuries that get aggravated when I run over a 5k. After becoming a certified Spin instructor, my endorphin thirst was quenched on a bike instead of in running shoes. It’s been years since I participated in any events, but I still set goals and earn badges on the bike and through my fitness watch. (Side note: it’s the most trivial things like badges I find highly motivating.) The beauty of training this way is that metrics are measured which gives tangible evidence of improvement. I love improving.

Across the social pages along came the PeloFondo event. Riders set a mileage goal of their choosing, and then have 2 days to complete the miles. Thinking it would be fun and something to challenge myself before the next actual challenge begins in a week, I set my goal of 30 miles. Seemed achievable.

But…it didn’t really scare me. I’ve done 90 minute rides both indoor cycling and outdoor. So then I figured I could leave my goal at 30, but then actually ride 50 (because Garmin badges). That way I could play it safe, have a goal, but not push myself much harder.

A friend from the Hawaii days messaged years ago to say she was doing her first century ride. I remember this conversation vividly. (This was after we had all moved on to our next duty stations, but we still cheer each other on, even from across the globe.) This conversation planted a seed.

I swallowed and upped the mileage to 100.

One of the class instructors, Christine D’Ercole, often says in her classes to get curious. Instead of the mental chatter that tells us we can’t do something, that talks us out of all the things, she has this amazing motto: I am. I can. I will. I do. We change the chatter and get curious. What if I can do this thing? What if I can set a crazy-ass goal and actually achieve it? What if it takes forever? What if?

What. If.

I knew it would take me forever. I got ready and ordered the padded bike shorts and anti-chafing cream. (Somehow I missed the padded bike seat cover but my amazing husband popped out quick to the store and picked up not one, but two. He graciously fit one on while I was mid class!)

It took me 12 classes.

There were lots of stretching breaks between the classes. 2 peanut butter and jelly on whole wheat sammies, 3 apple pie Lara bars, 2 bananas, Nuun hydration tablets, and a LOT of water got me through. Not to mention the randomness of the post-ride feast!

Not necessarily pretty, but when you’re hangry, anything edible tastes like heaven!

101.19 miles took me 6:30. Six and a half hours. (The marathon time was in this same ridiculous ballpark.) I will never win races or compete competitively, but I race me. (And…. occasionally my friend Bo. He typically creams me.)

3000 calories torched according to the watch. Four Garmin badges were earned:

(Seriously, it’s ridiculous that these little things excite me to the degree that they do.) The very last ride of the 12 completed today happened to be the 200th!

Badges, badges everywhere!

I am…..capable. I can….do hard things. I will….continue to set goals that scare me. I do…finish what I start. Thank you Christine for the words I didn’t know I needed.

It’s been a minute since I set a scary goal, let alone participated in a formal event. I missed it. I missed getting scared and pushing beyond that fear. Because really….why not? And what if?

9 Years

The notification that I’ve had this little corner of the internet for 9 years popped up today. Laughing, I joked to my husband that other than him and the kids I don’t think I’ve ever committed to anything that long. The thought took me back to where we were 9 years ago: getting ready for another heartbreaking military move from Hawaii back to Washington state. I had just finished my one (and only) marathon, but had successfully lost 40lbs attending a bootcamp class regularly. Consistently shutting down the voices in my head that said I wasn’t good enough, that I couldn’t do ____________, and was letting go of fear-based decision making. I got curious about my capabilities. I climbed volcanos, pushed out of comfort zones and checked off bucket list items before we left Oahu. The kids were a lot younger, and while those days were tiring (the endless days of diapers and deployments) it was just….different. I suppose it’s a bit of hindsight/rose-colored glasses affecting my memories. It seems like a lighter time in many ways, considering where we are now.

It was roughly 9 years ago, sitting in a restaurant with friends who had facilitated change that we swore we would never travel down this path again. We would stay healthy. We would do what it took, no matter what. Never again would we become sedentary.

The path of the last near-decade has in no way been linear.

The scale has gone up, it has gone down, and up and down over and over. Exercise has been a common thread, with chunks of time more consistent than others (hello rough bouts with anxiety and depression). I adopted a vegetarian diet and gave up all alcohol. It’s been a winding road to say the least. Regardless of process, it’s been a journey worth traveling.

I crave spin classes and took my first of many while living in Hawaii. Loved it so much in fact, that I studied and earned my teaching certificate and eventually led classes in a big box gym for a few years. The energy of other participants is incredible and when struggling to make it through a workout, that energy can carry you through the finish line. Exercise is an apropos metaphor for life. It’s surprisingly collective. Spin in particular is also binary. You either love it….or you hate it. There is no in between.

I am in the former category, but was skeptical when hearing about friends who had ordered from Peloton. Loving spin classes and having a stationary bike at home are very different things. I had a stationary bike that I rode when crafting spin classes and playlists. It was a super useful tool gifted to me, and I rode the heck out of it. To just get on it and ride and stare at the wall, though? Kind of like a treadmill dreadmill that sits in the garage collecting dust. I would much rather run or bike outside. I wondered if the Peloton would be just a very expensive replacement for the floordrobe (clothes not in a drawer or hung in the closet – the clothes that are neither clean, nor dirty and end up on the floor, aka floordrobe.) What was so special about this overpriced bike that goes no where with a giant TV stuck on the front of it? The last thing I wanted was unused workout equipment collecting dust (or clothes). After discussing with friends who couldn’t stop raving about how much they loved their bikes, one friend added me to her profile to check out the app and all it had to offer.

To say I was blown away would be an understatement.

I did a few workouts, and explored the app. I loved the outdoor audio coaching for walks and runs. Great music and great coaching made minutes and miles fly by. Strength, cardio, barre, stretching, yoga – and even meditation! There were so many instructors. If one didn’t excite – another one could easily be chosen. Didn’t like that playlist? No sweat – here’s a bunch of other classes! We made the decision to order a bike. The app sold it for us. Without any equipment, the app was so robust that I was sold. I was getting itchy to workout consistently again. I couldn’t wait to ride. My body craves movement. The experience of working in a couple of big box gyms was gratifying personally, and solidified why I love working hard in the first place. I just feel better when I do.

2020 has been devastating on many fronts, but there have been cracks of sunlight in the foreboding gloom of the year’s sky. The quieting of the constant busy, the lessened need of having to go and do. It was awesome seeing so many families active and outside this summer. The bike arrived as the warmer days were winding down. In the PNW, winter cold and rain always come. Days of enjoying those outdoor dog walks were dwindling. I knew the bike had arrived at exactly the right time. This will help me stay healthy and sane not only because of covid, but though the winter months when being outside is not feasible.

And it has.

Far from being an unused clothes-catcher, it has surpassed my expectations. There are countless groups such as PeloVegans, Dog Moms of Peloton, Sober Pelo, PeloDads, PeloMoms, 50 and 60+ groups, Power Zone Pack and more! The leaderboard sits on the screen where you see others working out with you, and where you can give and receive virtual high fives. (Sounds silly until you get some of those!) Instructors during live rides give shoutouts for milestones – even a Century club t-shirt from the company when you complete 100 rides. There are challenges, song request rides, artist series, in short – there is community.

A highly motivated community.

A community that doesn’t require me to go to the gym. I go to my living room. I don’t have to pack toiletries, or in the case of this year – miss out because the gym is closed. My bike is always open. The app is just a swipe away. Motivation awaits!

Attending bootcamp classes in the Hawaiian sun some 9 years ago was more than an exercise class. My success in that program was due in large part to the community it fostered. The races and running community – far more encouraging than I had ever realized before I’d ever laced up a pair of shoes. The gyms were I worked teaching clients one on one and in group settings were fun and engaging because of our communities, these crazy people who got their sweat on for an hour – together.

Whether it’s parenting, church, sobriety, friendships, education, and of course exercise – humans are herd animals. We need each other. We are much better when we are interdependent. 9 years of commitment, community and fitness. If they have taught me anything, and 2020 especially, it’s that we aren’t meant to go through life alone. As Glennon Doyle often says, “We belong to each other.”

We most certainly do.

See you on the Leaderboard friends! #CurlyMamaof2

2020 breakdown: 1099 miles since September, over 6000 minutes of activity consisting of 156 cycling classes, 59 walks with the app, 10 runs, and 22 yoga classes.

3.5 years

Sitting here socially distanced and masked up since early spring, I often wonder about how much people have likely ramped up drinking – out of fear.

Out of boredom.

Anxiety.

Anger.

So much anger. Because yep, it’s an election year on top of everything else. Just days away from an election that will determine our path forward, for better or worse. There is a brittleness in our communities that seems tangible. It’s just right there, under the surface. I see it when I go to the grocery. I see it on the wearied faces of the checkout clerk. I feel it in the shortness and clipped responses. So much irritability and anger.

Walking through the store, I saw an elderly gentleman while in the store with what looked like at least a dozen bottles of wine. “Eyes on your own cart,” I reminded myself. The mind still wondered though. Maybe he’s buying in bulk. Who knows? Not my business. On a different day, I saw another person juggling 4-5 bottles of hard liquor. Probably having a party of some kind. Whatever. Not my business. These kinds of thoughts flash through my mind in a matter of seconds. I’ve noticed them more frequently lately, and what seems to be an uptick of alcohol purchases at a few of the grocery stores I frequent.

My 3 year soberversary rolled around a few months ago. It’s weird how time works, both dragging and speeding by as we look through the lens of hindsight. Even more so when aboard the careening Corona-coaster that is this year.

Over three years ago we were living in another state, I went veggie right around the same time and homeschooling wasn’t seriously on my radar. Eric had left for the what felt like the longest year and last deployment. (Knock on wood it stays the last!) I was looking at selling the house while he was gone. I had survived closing up the house and evacuating from Hurricane Harvey with a torn up shoulder and a bit more confidence that I could, in fact, do hard things. I chopped off all my hair and started over because I was too impatient to let the dyed/Brazilian blowout part grow.

What a time to choose sobriety.

But thank God I did.

Eyes on my own cart. Eyes on my own path.

Thank God I chose the one I’m on.

Unexpected

Post-PCS move, all the boxes are unpacked. The paper (oh so much paper) has been meticulously straightened and folded and packed into one giant box by my equally meticulous husband. (I’m more of a shove it in a box and pack it down type, but whatever.) We have offered it all to others in the neighborhood who are getting ready for their next move.

This is my favorite space. The just after we are settled and unpacked space. Where everything has a place, things no longer needed have been donated, and it’s another 2.5 years before we have to even think about moving again. We have all the hooks in the hallway, shoe racks placed, kids’ rooms decorated and it feels like home.

I sip my steaming hot freshly poured hot cup of coffee and gaze contentedly out the windows that offer a peekaboo view of the San Juan islands and the Puget Sound. It’s still foggy, gray and rainy as the Pacific Northwest usually is in February. My dad asked me recently, “I thought you hated the rain?” Honestly, I thought I did, too.

I am in such a different space than I was the last time we lived here. The kids no longer require my assistance in such things as getting dressed. They are far more independent. We are not in the midst of deployments. We live in a relatively quiet military town – a far cry from the busy-ness (and sunshine) of Southern California. I try to cherish each phase as we move through them, but I’m completely immersing myself in this one. My not-so-tiny-anymore humans are hilarious people and I find myself marveling at their quick wits and quirky senses of humor. Savoring their curiosity and cultivating their love of learning is a calling I never envisioned. I never thought in a million years life would take the turns it has. If you would have told me I would be a vegetarian, homeschooling, 3-dog lover, nature-craving, letting-my-hair-go-grey-naturally, insatiable consumer of books, teetotaler I would have laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of that image.

But here I am in the midst of the unexpectedness of it all and I am loving every dang bit of it. Okay, maybe that’s the coffee talking because let’s face it, not every day is bliss. A week ago I dragged the minions to a hike at one of my favorite trails by the water and they complained THE ENTIRE TIME. “It’s tooooo coooooollllldddddd….” (complete with whining voice) and “Are we done with this yet? I’m bored,” they complained long and loudly. Granted I was a smidge unprepared. We should have dressed a little more warmly, and maybe ventured out during a little later (and warmer) part of the day. Between my pushing of mandatory-family-fun and their reluctance and complaining it was a shit-show less than stellar outing.

Contrasted with this week’s adventure, it was night and day. We played giant chess in the sprinkles that wouldn’t quite become rain. I found joy in the usual spots. The kids drank from a camping spout.

 

Interspersed with the unexpected-joy-nugget types of family fun, I have no doubts they will be sprinkled with “less than stellar outings” from time to time. But that’s the point isn’t it, to expect the unexpected?

trying new things

consuming viewpoint-altering books

the beauty of rain

sobriety

raising kind (most of the time) and compassionate humans

 

And perhaps embrace it all.

 

 

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