Tag: Alcohol
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The Tarot Diaries: The Three of Cups
When I entered the tiny washroom, I could still feel the bass thrumming in my veins. Dance music played outside. I escaped here, if just for a moment, to collect myself after another shot of Jack. Who knows how many shots at this point? My stomach turned, and I took a breath.
These quiet moments in the small bathroom, the only one in this bar, allowed my mind to run away from the liquor-fueled avoidance. I drank to penetrate the veil. It was though I wore a gauze shroud my entire life, every person out of focus. I was unable to touch, unable to connect, unable to truly be seen by anyone. The alcohol allowed me to pulled the shroud off of my body. I was able to be loud, and messy, and seen, and I kept telling myself “this is the closest to the true me I will ever be able to come.”
Of course, this was self-delusion. The hazy cloth that usually kept me separate from all of the people I came across in life now simply took the form of a glass wall. I look in the mirror, but I don’t see myself. I don’t recognize the girl, the person, the woman, standing there. She looks vacant in dirty little room. The light flickers and causes her skin to look sickly. I stand there staring in the mirror, not really seeing, not really recognizing the person who stood there looking back. It was time to re-enter the fray. It was time to go back into the sort-of club in the small town I swore I was going to leave to dance and drink with people I had convinced myself I had connected with.
I think deep down, I knew that I had severed all connection…most importantly, the connection to myself.
This flashback paints a little bit of a picture of the longing that fueled my depression and binge drinking during most of my 20s. Ya’ll, I sat down to write about the three of cups so many times yesterday. But the chalices in the image just keep tripping me up. What is the cheers for? What’s inside those vessels they are about to bring to their lips? Is it fuel for the fire, or cleansing water to truly see?
My initial thoughts on this card from Monday were that community was the essence, and something vitally missing from my life. It almost made me nostalgic from the days of drinking. But as one might be able to tell from the flashback above, being surrounded by people doesn’t mean you don’t feel alone. In fact, there are times it’s more isolating. It’s easy to turn blame inward. You have to be the problem, right?
A collage made with vintage materials found during my artist dates recently. Also used one of my image transfers I tried the first week of The Artist’s Way program. Note to self: do more of these. I don’t remember the exact moment I decided to start chipping away pieces of myself to try and fit into the ideas I believe society has for me. I don’t think there was a solid moment where I began to shove my true self underwater in order to step forward and fit in.
But I do know my sobriety date. December 11, 2017. The day I decided to allow myself to break the surface of the water, to re-emerge to the world, to start breathing again. I don’t know…that feels like something worth celebrating.
And every single day since has been a lesson in remembering that I can continue to get to know myself. I can continue to change and evolve and grow. In the hopes of making more friends and becoming a friend to my body, we decided to join a gym this week. This is typically not a good move for me. It means wasting money and taking on the guilt of never showing up for my health.
So far it has gone well. There is a spot for the kids to hang out with other kids and play. I get to chill on the stationary bike and crochet. The husband gets to lift or do whatever he chooses. We break apart into our own little worlds, then come back together in our home. Family is also a community. Sometimes this is what can give us the strength to allow our world to expand.
I often share that my husband and kids saved my life. I think this is true. I knew for a long time I had to stop drinking, but honestly didn’t see my own life as worthy of being saved. But I could show up for those I love. I did this long enough, and worked on my own healing long enough, that now I do see that getting sober just for myself is worthy. I am worth re-building a life for. I am worth pursuing a creative career that lights me up. I am worth showing up to the gym for to take care of a body long abused and neglected.
All of this disparate parts make up my ever-shifting and multifaceted community. I celebrate with all of them. My family, my body, my mental health, my creativity, my IRL friends, my online friends, the plants and animals and insects I encounter everyday in this tiny little world I get to walk through.
How lucky to live this life. How lucky to have survived. How lucky to have learned to love…not only others, but myself. Today, I celebrate that.
Starmoth Press 