I was a mess, too. When I initially found out I said all the right things to myself, but as the day went on I became more and more hateful and upset until I had convinced myself I needed a drink. I looked up all sorts of alternatives to AA. It was funny, almost.

Luckily, my people don’t want me to drink. So when I asked Tim straight up, “Should I medicate this pain with alcohol or food?” he answered “Food,” without getting all weird about it, so I put my diet aside for a day and got through it. Now I’m okay. I think I am just never going to deal calmly with things like that. I feel like a failure and that’s okay. I wanted the job. I usually get jobs. I thought this was what was supposed to happen but then it didn’t.

I got a lot of kudos on Facebook yesterday for a picture I posted of my post-chemo hair. I do appreciate all the people who are glad I’m alive, but I can’t help but take issue with some of the “you are such a fighter!” and compliments as if I singlehandedly killed cancer with my bare hands.  As much as I would love to be the bad ass motherfucker a lot of people believe me to be, hear this: science and medicine got me through cancer. Tim. Fate. A sprinkling of God’s will. But I personally didn’t do shit except think through all my options with common sense. I followed doctor’s instructions, took the medicine and had the procedures that were prescribed. That’s it. Some of the treatments, chemo included, were awful and painful but…what was I supposed to do at age 47 with young children, give up? Does that make me a fighter? I don’t think so.

I was scared as shit. I chose to drink to excess to dull the fear. That wasn’t very smart, but it was what I had to do at the time. I was REALLY sorry for myself. I cried a lot and wailed, “Why me??” So I’m just a normal person and cancer is just a disease. It’s not evil; it’s not menacing. It’s just bad luck. I wish I hadn’t gotten it and it sucked. But now it seems like a bad dream. I could still die from it if that’s my destiny.

I keep waking up at four a.m. I tried switching Abilify to mornings and guess what? No difference. I tried going to bed later. Jesus, THAT was a struggle! Talk about self-pity-you should have heard me whining to Tim at 9:00 pm, “How much LATER do I have to stay up? I’m TIRED. How long now? How about NOW?” This would be a great time to have an infant in the house – why does nature give them to you when you want to sleep in?

Okay, well it’s finally 6:00 a.m. which I never thought of as a decent hour but at least now I don’t have to creep around to keep from bothering NORMAL people who sleep.  Bye bye guys love ya,

Jane xo

I was able to be somewhat articulate with her about my concerns about AA and flat out said, “Look let me know if this is going to be a problem for you. Here’s the thing. I have issues that cannot be fixed with prayer, meditation and a 4^th step and it’s flat out dangerous for me to think that I can.” And she said “I AGREE,” and boy do I like it when people agree with me. But also, she has a history very similar to mine, a “dual diagnosis” if you will, though I resist and resent being called an “addict” and I fear and am ashamed of “Bipolar II.” So we agreed I would call myself someone who “has a problem with alcohol” and I’d work to get over the bipolar shame. Anyway, long story short, I liked her and think I can work with her.

I want to accept myself and stop always thinking I’m going to get to some place where everything is awesome and I am this…I don’t know, furiously happy person who is well adjusted and greets people with a kiss on the cheek. I’m not that person. I super super like those people, but I don’t have to be one of them. I can be my sharp, depressive, moody self and be okay in the world. I think God likes me. I think a lot of people like me and to be honest, I don’t much care. I would like to kiss people on the cheek, too. But most people think that’s weird. If I lived in France I would do it, though.

She’s had breast cancer too so we spent a lot of time just chatting about that. She had a lumpectomy thirteen years ago and told me she still feared a recurrence. I rarely think about that.  I’ve had a double so if my cancer comes back it’s a death sentence so what’s the point? It is what it is. I HAD CANCER-there you go Melinda, you didn’t think I would get through more than a week of this journal without pulling that card, did you??

Lex, I don’t know if Texxie still journals. I don’t think so. Nobody journals any more, do they? I wish she would. I wish you all would. I want to know everyone’s business!

Love Jane xo

I got up at 4:30 today and it had snowed and this house is colder than shit. We remodeled our kitchen last year (I say “we” and by that I mean “Tim”) and it’s fantastic but it has a huuuuuuge island/bar made of stone and there is nothing colder in this world. My coffee cups are in a cabinet that is against an outside wall, so they are cold as shit too so I end up making coffee in tacky cups from Sam’s Club and lay a towel down to keep my wrist from touching the stone while I type and this is NOT AT ALL like the pictures in the magazines.

I had a terrible day yesterday. I made a simple mistake at work and couldn’t let it go at all and basically thought the world was coming to an end. Soooo maybe this medicine doesn’t work like I think it does. I felt so hopeless and Tim basically said, “Maybe the trying to fix your life is what the problem is.” And I thought and thought and you know….I have been trying to find some peace since I was about, oh let’s see, born. And I haven’t. Will I? I’m beginning to think I won’t or else I don’t know what it is and I had it all along, like some Wizard of Oz shit only without the fun stuff, balloons and cool shoes.

The mistake at work, not to be too specific, was the equivalent of sending an email and referencing an attachment but forgetting the attachment. Then sending a new one saying, oops, here’s the attachment. Which is a thing that happens all the damn time to perfectly competent people. But oh no, when I do it it’s a disaster of mythic proportions and just proves to everyone what a complete IDIOT I am and how I don’t deserve anything nice and oh brother. Typing it out, I see what bullshit I sit in, but at the time I thought I might die.

AA would say that if I could just stop being so self-centered and accept myself as I am, in this moment, I wouldn’t have these things bother me but AA can go fuck itself sometimes because I CAN’T GET THERE. AA loves to tell everyone that alcoholism is a disease but fails to acknowledge that “character defects” are also irrational and brain-driven and you can’t just drop them like a heavy sweater. I have a switch in my brain that spirals to EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE faster than you can ever imagine and no amount of Letting Go and Letting God stops that progression. Not without help from drugs and a professional. And maybe not even with that. I do think if I could just get to acceptance and say, “This is a thing I do. Hold on until later, when you will recover and stumble back to your flawed and broken normal and move forward.” But I’m tired sometimes.  Especially when I get up at 4:30.

I am seeing a new counselor today. I hope it helps. And I follow up about the Abilify next week and I guess I will have to tell her that this early waking is not exactly fun. I like the silent house, and I’m getting 7 hours of sleep…but some nights at 8:45 I’m so tired I can’t stand it and that’s kind of ridiculous.

I just dumped a lot of pain here. Sorry. Thank you for your support and your nice comments. Writing about things helps.

Love Jane xo

Texxie wants counsel, Texxie gets counsel. Except….this is a public forum so I can’t actually talk about my current job. But I can say this – I have had only weak reasons for leaving jobs in the past. I have literally always left a job because I was angry or bored or felt like a victim. Being bored is a legitimate excuse I suppose, but being angry and a victim is not, in my opinion. One of the things I have learned in the past 18 months is to abide. Wait stuff out. Grass isn’t always greener and ALL THAT SHIT.

I also do the godly stuff, Texxie. I know, I know. But sometimes when I put stuff in someone else’s hands it makes things easier for me. My brain doesn’t work right so I don’t trust my decisions a lot of the time. If I live to be 100, I will still question if I’m making a move due to some messed up idea that I’m the center of the universe.

Of course if you legit have a boss who’s an abusive asshole or you’re truly being screwed over? Find a new job. Also if you can make substantially more money, why not? Money is awesome. I like money.

I wish I could attribute this early waking to my new medicine, but truth be told, I was waking early before I started taking Abilify. Who knows what’s going on there, but I think when you go to bed at 10 it’s not so weird to wake up at 5, honestly.  When I went to the sleep doctor recently, he said STUDIES SHOW (ha) that 7 hours of sleep is about the right amount. So I guess if I want to get up later, I’d have to go to bed later and that’s not happening.

Abilify has many side effects, of course. You’ve seen the commercial with the sad sack lady who adds Abilify and becomes a little less sad and then while we’re watching her be a little less sad and pick flowers and smile weakly the voice over goes on and on and ON about side effects to the point where you’re like Jesus Christ, maybe I’d rather be depressed than fat and diabetic and dead.

Aside: why is it always women who are depressed in pharmaceutical commercials, HMM? Is it because men make the commercials? I WONDER.

So far, my side effect of note is weight gain. I gained like 5 pounds in a week which is a lot for someone my size and if you are poo-pooing me right now and saying, “I WISH I only gained 5 pounds in one week” or “My left ELBOW weighs 5 pounds” or whatever, well. Have a thought about how I’m talking about me not you. If you know me at all, you know this troubles me greatly but I’m working on it- not the weight, the idea that if I have a belly I’m somehow ruined. I am starving and want to eat a whole cake sometimes. It’s annoying. But then again, when I quit drinking, I started eating so this may just be a more pronounced version of that.

Also my brain sometimes feels a little tired and buzzy. I am HIGHLY motivated now – and I get bored if I’m not doing something and sometimes feel panicked about it. I used to sit on the couch and play Candy Crush and watch Investigation Discovery and it was all I wanted out of life and now I think, “What can I be doing? Is there laundry? How about I clean the fridge-we never do that. This worries me because it feels a little like mania and weirdly, mania can be a side effect of a drug that is for hypomania and I don’t really understand how that works and damn I wish I weren’t crazy. What is that like, people? What is it like?

I go back to work today after being at home since December 23. I’ve worked at home – but my boss has been gallivanting around the globe so I haven’t had to do anything much except look at emails and accept appointments and generally keep an eye on things. Holly goes back to school tomorrow and Elliot NEVER GOES BACK TO SCHOOL BECAUSE HE GRADUATED FROM COLLEGE WHOOP WHOOP.

How’d he get so old??

Bye guys – thanks, as always, for your kind words and support over the internetz.

Love Jane

I treasure sobriety but I do miss being able to dull the pain, and I’ve got a lot of it. I was born with it. But nothing compares to the joy of knowing when I pass a cop at 12 midnight that I can’t possibly get pulled over for DUI. Nothing compares to going to bed with a clear head and waking up (at a ridiculous hour these days) feeling fine. Nothing compares to knowing I didn’t say something combative or stupid or embarrassing to people and have to see them later and cringe.  It’s a beautiful life.

Life’s not perfect, though. For about a year, I was on a real high. I felt like my life was changed for good – that I’d finally found The Answer.  Then I got depressed. Not coincidentally, it started in the early fall, though I remember feeling like something of a fraud at my one-year sobriety anniversary in late May.  As depression settled over me, I thought, GREAT. Alcohol was never the problem. Sobriety didn’t fix this. There’s no Step to fix this.  And I spiraled just like I used to and everything was terrible. Obviously there were world and life events that contributed to my mood – that ridiculous and disheartening presidential race. A work problem. A loss of a friendship due to my own self-centeredness and anger. My sponsor was having personal problems and I couldn’t help her.

But. I had spent over a year learning that action works and sitting in shit doesn’t. So I called my psychiatrist. And her staff was all, “We can’t squeeze you in for eight weeks and if this is an emergency, call 911.” Yeah…define emergency? I mean, no I didn’t have a gun to my head. But I needed help and I needed it sooner than January.

This psychiatrist has always had weird hours and a very unhelpful staff who don’t focus on customer service. And that’s the nicest way to put it without exaggerating and making myself a victim.  I decided rather than complain about someone’s behavior I can’t control, I would keep taking action until I found a solution.

I put out on Facebook that I was looking for a new prescriber. And my AA mafia kicked in like no one’s business. One thing about The Program. You have a devoted group of people who will ALWAYS help you. Someone asks and you give.

One of my friends works for an insurance company and recommended a group and made a call on my behalf. I called and got in a week later.

The doctor was extremely thorough and asked me relevant questions. She had me fill out a couple of questionnaires. Then she told me she strongly suspected I had Bipolar II (Bipolar Depression look it up) and ADHD. Um. Wut?

She explained that my frequent flashes of breathtaking and uncontrollable anger were symptoms of hypomania and that regular SSRIs didn’t address that. She told me I “probably” had minor ADHD but didn’t feel like it was worth addressing. That’s okay by me, but one wishes they diagnosed ADHD way back in the day when it was just called “not rising to one’s potential.” I would have a different life, I think.

Anyway, long story short, she prescribed Abilify which scares me and I feel like a truly mentally ill person now that “bipolar” is in my official diagnosis, but god damn if I don’t feel totally different. I wake early. I do things. I am motivated. I am not angry.

I have been so angry my whole life. I have gotten myself in so much trouble with my anger. I have yelled at people I love and people I don’t love and hell, people I don’t even know. I have destroyed countless relationships.  I’m not saying a person should never get angry. But I think PERHAPS yelling at a lady in a grocery store parking lot for playing loud music is inappropriate.  I think threatening strangers for looking at you funny might be ill-advised. I think ending friendships with a flick on the wrist over a perceived slight may be a mistake. Yelling at someone at work? Not a career enhancer.

I feel so much better. I am cautiously optimistic. At least I am looking at this through a sober lens. Anti-depressants rarely had a chance to work in the past because the instructions on the bottle about not drinking alcohol with this medication didn’t apply to me. Because I was special. And lied to myself all the time.

Abilify has some side effects. I can talk about them tomorrow or in six months, whenever I update this thing again. Ha.

HAHAHA who asked me about weight loss? I haven’t lost weight! I’ve gained weight actually and it’s something I have to constantly work on-not the weight control, but the acceptance of how I look and what’s realistic for me at this stage of my life.

Yes, about six years ago I did lose about 20 pounds, but the first 7-8 came off when I started taking blood pressure medicine – like literally almost overnight. The rest came off by starving. That’s the bottom line.  I am 53 years old and I have to starve myself to lose weight and stay super thin. And that’s bullshit.

I stopped weighing myself because it was ruining my day. I have a warped idea of what I should weigh, what size I should wear, how I should look in pictures, etc. etc. The fact is that no matter what I do, I’m not satisfied with my appearance. Even when I was super thin I thought I looked gaunt and I didn’t like how old my face looked, so there is no pleasing me.

There is no doubt that when I quit drinking something in my brain that controls appetite went haywire. Now I really super crave sweet things like cookies and cake. Before I just…I don’t know, I just didn’t even consider it. Some sort of iron gate slammed down like NO YOU CAN’T EAT THAT. And now it’s like EAT THAT OR YOU WILL DIE. And let me just say – life is a whole lot more enjoyable when you can eat a cookie or four.

The thing is – I have been given the gift of peace of mind. I’m not giving that up because my pants feel tight. I will buy new pants.

So I fussed. I got tearful. My husband was in a meeting so I couldn’t complain to him. Plus he doesn’t give advice to me. He decided a few months ago to start commiserating and expressing concern, but never offering a solution or advice. It’s the greatest thing you can do for a marriage, especially if you’re married to a person like me and by “like me” I mean a person who complains and moans and bitches. I’m unstable in that frame of mind. I might be laying it all out for you and it may seem like I’m asking for help and advice and then BAM I will take your advice and hit you right in the face with it and tell you to fuck off that’s unhelpful how dare you give me help when I need it?

I complained to Twitter and got a lot of lovely virtual hugs. But I was still in a state of self-pity and avoidance.

I texted my sponsor because a few weeks ago I was talking at a meeting about an impulsive, destructive decision I made and one woman looked me straight in the eye and said, “I never make any kind of emotional decision without calling my sponsor.” And I somehow remembered that. My sponsor responded, “Call me!” but I didn’t see it right away.

So I paused. I paused and I settled down. And I thought it through. And while I was thinking it through I heard myself in my head saying, “How could they does this? WHAT ABOUT ME???” I realized the thing had nothing to do with me. I mean, literally nothing. Also, if I say or think “What about me?” it’s almost always a sign I’m being a baby, which I was. I was so sorry for myself. My feelings were hurt. Something happened and all the people involved didn’t think about Jane, the most important person on Planet Earth. Don’t they know who I am??

I was being an asshole. I wish I could explain further, but trust me. I was being a self-centered asshole.

The St. Francis prayer came to mind. I can never remember prayers, but I remembered at least two lines of it that were applicable: “Let me seek to understand, rather than to be understood, to love rather than to be loved,” and it all fell away.

I eventually saw my sponsor’s text and called her and was all like “I SOLVED IT ON MY OWN!!!” and I felt fabbbbbbulous.

I’m amazed at how many bad decisions in my life have been made because I never knew how to pause. Don’t get me wrong, there have been times, even recently, where I’ve paused and have still done something ill-advised.  There have been times where I’ve asked God to help me see things a different way and the answer didn’t come soon enough so I’ve said FUCK IT. I always regret it. Every single time.

I haven’t written much lately because I have questioned if I’m doing this for the right reasons. I will continue to ask that question, always.  I can’t trust myself because, as I’ve illustrated above, I believe, most of the time, that I’m the queen of the universe and people should think I’m awesome.  Am I being humble? Am I being honest? I hope you guys will keep me that way. Xo

Love, Jane

That said, NOPE.

There’s a saying – non-alcoholic drinks are for non-alcoholic people (“non-alcoholic drinks” meaning cocktails, beer and wine that have no alcohol in them). First off, I don’t want a cocktail without alcohol because getting drunk was the point. Second of all, drinking a mocktail in a bar glass feels a lot like trying to recapture a way of life that is dangerous for me. I can’t explain it any better than that. It’s an uncomfortable feeling I get when I hold the empty glass in my hand. I trust my instincts these days.

Anyway, I don’t want to drink juice out of a wine glass because wine glasses are for wine and I can’t drink wine. Someday I hope to be recovered enough to say “I DON’T drink wine.” But for right now? It’s a restriction. I have to remind myself what happens when I drink wine.  I act like an asshole. I throw up. I say hurtful things. I make terrible decisions. Maybe not every time. But I never know which time all hell is going to break loose – and that’s where being “powerless” comes in. It’s Russian roulette every time I pick up a drink.

This whole thing is not about the glasses. It’s about what used to go in them.

I’m going to save the glasses but I’m going to put them in some cabinets in the basement where I don’t have to see them. And someday I’ll feel better about it.

And please don’t feel criticized if you thought I should use the glasses for other drinks. This just shows that your brain works right. Wish mine did.

However, I wouldn’t trade this last year for anything. I’ve never been happy before. I’ve never been able to pull myself out of pain before. It’s a revelation.

Love Jane

I feel tearful today and I need to figure out why. My first instinct when I feel “off” is to find someone to blame. Isn’t that weird? Why does it have to be someone’s fault? Usually I blame Tim. I swear to god I don’t know why he puts up with me.

Actually one time I asked him that and he said, “Because we love each other.”

And then I cried for a million years because OMG.

I did get all upset last night, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Maybe it’s a hangover from that. See, we have this one area of our basement that floods if we get super heavy rain. The water runs in from a window well and then runs across the basement floor toward a floor drain. It’s an unfinished basement so it’s not a huge deal (except I don’t think we will ever finish the basement because who wants that) – but since we redid the kitchen there have been a bunch of boxes sitting on the floor. We are too lazy to take the stuff in them back upstairs and in some cases I have nowhere to put the stuff. I sort of made this vow when we moved the whole kitchen downstairs that when we had the new one done we would only move essentials back up. And if something stayed in the basement for six months and we never needed it upstairs then it wasn’t worth moving. Does that make sense? Like if I’ve got some damn dish or utensil that I use once a year or never, why clutter up my nice new kitchen with it?

But those boxes were on the floor so they got wet and Tim was distressed. So I felt blamed even though no one blamed me. And I felt like I needed to go down there immediately after work and start moving stuff and I didn’t want to.  I FELT LIKE. No one told me I had to. I FELT LIKE.

So that took some work. I had to tell Tim I felt blamed and apologize for it because he didn’t blame me and I made up that story. Then I had to make myself go down there and at least accomplish something because Service.

THEN, I went down there and there’s a huge box full of barware. And it made me feel bad.

Tim gave all our liquor to Elliot the other day – just handed him the whole plastic tub full of stuff. So no liquor to bother me, but here were all these nice glasses. I picked up this beautiful red wine glass I got at Crate and Barrel with a giant bowl and remembered how much I loved holding it and blah blah and romanticized it and then closed the box. I almost cried to know I’ll never be able to use it again. Then I saw these four beautiful expensive copper mugs that Jessica gave me for my birthday two years ago. And I realized I’m not healed and I may never be. And THAT SUCKS. Crying over wine glasses sucks.

GAH. And now I feel bad all over again.

Maybe I just got to the bottom of this, ya think? Thanks for listening.

Love, Jane