The Act of Returning to Normal

The Official Not Smoking Update

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Sat, 20 Apr 2013 15:01:00 +0000

Today is a pretty busy day, so I won't be able to write a long post. I am highly aware that I am more than past due on a smoking update. So here goes:

There were some VERY rocky patches, although this time I did not cry, as I have sometimes in the past. It's fair to say that in the beginning the only thing that kept me going was sheer will and white knuckles. I did pray and try to use some of the tools I've gained in sobriety, but mostly I held on. Intellectually, I knew the intense cravings couldn't last, but emotionally, it really felt like forever. A month solid...Or maybe I'm exaggerating.

Now, I'm pretty good. I feel fleeting notions of smoking. But I can tell that it's just the idea of smoking and not the actuality.

I'll go into more detail very soon!

Could have been day 11

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Sat, 06 Apr 2013 14:34:00 +0000

I cracked on day 8. It wasn't because the thought of a cigarette sounded so good. It was because I was really struggling with the withdrawal symptoms. My digestion had slowed to a standstill, I felt nauseous, constipated and depressed. I was working on a proposal and just couldn't concentrate long enough to finish it. I knew at the time that one cigarette wouldn't make a difference and would only lead to the desire for more. I smoked it anyway.

I realized, even as I was smoking it, that I don't want to smoke anymore. The health consequences are too great and I'm tired of always needing my fix.

But the bleak almost depression was also too much and I didn't think I could get through it. I'm not sure whether it was different when I quit drinking, but from this distance it does feel different - the ravages of smoking are more subtle than the wreckage caused by my drinking. Knowing that the symptoms are half-created by my mind and short-term just doesn't seem to cut it this time.

So, I've compromised. I went and got step 3 of the patch. It feels so much better. It's still hard sometimes, and I still feel cravings, but now I'm able to get past them.

The time will come when I have to give up the patch, but I'm hopeful that a month of habit-change will make the process easier. In the meantime, I'm very happy to be smoke free.

Not Smoking, Day 7

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 14:57:00 +0000

It's getting easier to get out of bed without desperately wanting to smoke. Today is the first day I didn't have to talk myself off the ledge of wanting to light up. In fact, I didn't start to think about it until after I'd been up for over an hour. It's nice to feel the intensity of the craving start to level off. However, my mind has begun playing tricks on me - I find myself thinking that I could have just one, and then go back to quitting. I'm torn about this thought process. On the one hand, I might be able to have just one today and then get right back on the quitting wagon. On the other hand, what's the point of one cigarette? It's not like it would take care of all of the future cravings I'm going to have, or that it would be different from any of the other cigarettes I've smoked.

No. It's both risky and pointless.

It is funny to listen to myself try to rationalize and justify and find a space for smoking.

The one thing that still plagues me is a deep spaciness. I'm only partially here and have been terribly forgetful over the past week. I'm clinging to consciousness each day and trying to get through, but for the most part, I feel like having an extended nap, followed by reading in bed, followed by another nap. I can't wait until the biochemical adjustments are made and I feel more awake.

On the plus side, here are the benefits I've seen so far:

I don't worry about how I smell. It's a strange feeling because I wasn't aware of how often I wondered about it.
My teeth seem whiter. I'm not sure if this is even possible, but I swear they look better already.
Running to heart rate feels more effortless. I believe this is due to better oxygen carrying capacity in my blood, and not due to enhanced lung function, which will take a lot longer.
I can sleep on my back without snoring.
I haven't gained any weight (yet... I'm trying to stay open about the possibility)

Not Smoking, Day 6

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Mon, 01 Apr 2013 14:55:00 +0000

I realized there are a few other things I'm doing to get through this stuff (some are the same tools I used to quit drinking):

Start your non-smoking counter the moment you finish your last cigarette. In my case, this is 8pm, March 26th. It means that when I get out of bed in the morning, my day is "half over" already. It means that you start quitting today, rather than tomorrow. I just don't have the resolve to do something big first thing in the morning - the only thing I'm good for is a coffee.
Remember gratitude. I had a great weekend, but then spent most of yesterday afternoon feeling sorry for myself. By the time I went to bed, I wanted to scream out loud because I was so grouchy. After belatedly remembering the serenity prayer, I started to actually feel better. I must remember that not smoking is no reason to enter into the land of self-pity.
Eating a bunch of junk does not make me feel better. It only gives me a stomach ache. I ate far more chocolate yesterday than is reasonable for anyone. I was so full when I went to bed that I couldn't even fall asleep. Gross. I need to accept the urge to smoke is there and then let it go.

Not-smoking, Day 4

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Sat, 30 Mar 2013 14:41:00 +0000

I never realized how many times a day I would have to say "no" to a cigarette. Seriously, it feels like there's a small child with no manners asking to buy a candy bar at the grocery store. Only you're at the grocery store for the rest of your life and the kid never sleeps. It's exhausting to say no all the time. At the same time, if I remember that it will get easier each day, it does give me hope.

I read once that the craving for a smoke will go away whether you smoke or not. I can see the truth in this, although at the moment the woozy feeling makes it difficult to appreciate. It is getting easier, but it's still so hard. Life seems to have lost a bit of its color and I feel hyper-sensitive. I had strange dreams last night that took me back to when I first quit drinking. And despite the overt lack of coolness people have about smoking, I realized that I did actually feel cool when I sat in the backyard patio and had a cigarette after a run. Strangely, this is the most difficult cigarette to give up. It goes counter to everything I would have expected, actually, because running and smoking are in deep conflict with each other. But there you have it - I have to let go of the idea that I'm such a badass in order to be successful at quitting and running.

The other thing I've realized is that I relied on the excuse of smoking quite a bit. I let it excuse and soften my failures. It will take some time to really understand this one, but I can see it with running. I fear success. I wonder what else I've been using it to excuse? Time will tell.

One final thought. I am afraid of the next big emotional experience. I always smoke to create armor around myself. (I used to drink for the same reason.) I wonder if I'll face it head on, or find another coping strategy buried under the smoking.

The thing I'm trying to keep top of mind is that I will continue to say no to the urge and the urge will eventually dissipate. I'm halfway through the first week. I'm sure I can do this.

Smoke-Free, Day 3

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 15:33:00 +0000

I'd forgotten how difficult it is to break an addiction, which is strange to say, considering that the primary reason I've had for not quitting are the many painful memories of the last time I quit. Last time was a real doozy that culminated in a three-hour crying jag that justified my next cigarette. (The logic was: What if I never stop crying? Clearly, I'm not ready to quit.)

Over the past few months I've been thinking more and more about quitting. I've been trying out various strategies - cutting down, putting myself in situations where I can't smoke, and keeping a daily count of how many times I did smoke. Each strategy was followed by an "oh fuck it" moment that resulted in a week of chain smoking. Each time I failed to find the will to quit I felt a deep sense of failure and disappointment. I felt divided - on the one hand, I live a fairly healthy lifestyle, eat well, and run endless miles. On the other hand, I have a nasty habit that could kill me.

In the end, it came down to running. As I mentioned in my last post, I'm doing this heart rate training. The book I read promised gradual, but constant improvement. Over three weeks I saw no improvement. My times were not budging. Also, running slowly was becoming increasingly difficult. I began to worry that I'd never be fast again (that with each passing day I was actually losing fitness and getting slower and that my perceptions of speed were broken). I lambasted myself with criticism. But then I had a key insight: the heart rate monitor was simply showing my level of fitness. It's black and white and you can't cheat it.

You see, I've been cheating the speed thing for a long time. I never thought it was worth it to quit because I was still fast enough...or at least faster than the people I knew. Over time I had to work harder and harder to maintain that pace and the only real bump I've had in speed was the result of moving to sea level elevation. As my body adjusted to the lower elevation, I began to lose that speed as well. With the heart rate monitor it's impossible to rationalize my decision to continue smoking - the numbers just don't lie. There is a limit to the fitness I can attain while I continue to smoke. The stress on the heart and lungs will prevent me from going much further or faster. I want to do both. I want to run more than I want to smoke.

That said,now that the difficulty of the first few days is fresh in my mind, I can tell you what I've done for the past few days to stay smoke-free.

Nicotine gum for truly urgent moments. (I'd rather not have it, but there you go..better three or four pieces of gum a day than 15 cigarettes)
Icebreakers DUO mints. I specify the brand only because the mint is has a texture that is deeply satisfying.
Chew gum. I hate gum. But it is helping.
Sleep. As much as possible. I'm lucky to have a flexible schedule, which allows me to nap. But even if napping isn't possible, get as much rest as you can. Quitting is exhausting.
Tell someone you don't want to disappoint. I only got through day 1 because I told my kids I wasn't going to smoke that day. When the truly desperate urges hit mid-afternoon, I refused to give in because I knew they'd ask when they got home from school.
Remember that every symptom is temporary. Every single feeling is caused by a combination of true withdrawal and a drama-queen mind. This time I really notice that as long as I can keep my mind in check the physical symptoms don't hit crashing heights of desperation they did last time.
Write down all of the reasons you want to quit. Put that list somewhere you can see it. Read it constantly.
Celebrate small milestones. The minutes and hours all add up. Every cigarette not smoked (or drink not drunk) is reason for celebration. So far, I've skipped about 35 cigarettes. That's about $12. And I'm already starting to feel pretty amazing (when not crippled by the urge to smoke).
Take vitamins and eat well. I did this when I quit drinking and really think it makes a difference. I'm taking a multivitamin, vitamin C, magnesium, calcium, gaba and 5HTP. I'm also eating as much fresh food as possible.

I am glad that I gave up sugar prior to quitting smoking. Because both are stimulants, I think I would be on a massive candy binge right now to cover the nicotine cravings.That always leads to a crash, which in the end makes it more difficult to resist.

Anyway - I'll keep you posted. If you have any other suggestions, please add it to the comments!

Update

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Sat, 16 Mar 2013 15:08:00 +0000

I've discovered a few things over the past few weeks.

First, I read a book called Memoirs of an Addicted Brain, by Marc Lewis. In addition to describing his addiction to opiates (among other drugs), he describes the physical changes to the brain and brain chemistry as a result of use. I found it very interesting, particularly the way that action, pleasure, and reward mark and limit neural pathways. Our choices in addiction limit us in so many ways and the fact that these limits are in part defined by the changes we exhibit in our brains made me feel better. It's strange in a way, because it's not a hopeful message in many ways (the changes are permanent), but at the same time I realized that I continue to carry some feeling that I was morally weak because I walked right into addiction.

I'm still so grateful for the escape from drinking. I continue to struggle some days - I hate that feeling of let down. It comes from the feeling that I've failed to meet my own expectations by not remaining focused at work, or not running enough, or making a mistake. But it also comes from worry that I'm not good enough for the people around me. That this lack of focus hurts them in some way. Now, after 2.5 years of sobriety, I don't struggle with the urge to drink, but I continue to struggle with the emotions that I used to drink over, if that makes sense.

I'm still not very sociable. I don't know how to have dinner parties anymore. We're fairly new, so we don't get invited out very often, but I'm filled with unease at the idea. Inviting someone over is almost worse - what if they bring wine? Intellectually, I can see that I'm being silly, but emotionally, I feel terrified. I do need to start doing that stuff though - without practice it will always loom large.

The other thing I've realized relates to running. I read a book about increasing endurance (as well as speed) by Philip Maffetone, called The Big Book of Endurance Training and Racing. In the book, he states that if you train above a certain heart rate (180-your age), you are training anaerobically, which means that you aren't increasing the number of mitochondria in your legs. As a result, you rely too heavily on glycogen to run. In doing this, you stimulate fat storage, increase the likelihood of over-training, and reduce your ability to get faster over the long term. By training at the range noted above, he argues that you stimulate fat burning, increase aerobic capacity and also get faster at the same level of effort.

I started training this way on Monday. In order to stay in my heart rate range, I had to really slow down. It felt like I was running in slow motion the first day. Now, my speed has picked up slightly, but the main thing I notice is that running leaves me feeling energized instead of exhausted. It's really easy to get out there and I actually enjoy it. I don't just enjoy how I feel at the end. I'm able to run for longer as a result and really do feel like I'm getting stronger even though it's only been a week now. I'll keep this going for another three months and let you know if I do actually end up faster at the end of the training cycle.

What I like about this method is that the measure is black and white. Because it's not effort-driven I can't trick myself into working harder than I need to be. I can't berate myself when my pace isn't where I think it should be. And I can't cheat because the monitor bleeps when my heart rate goes above the threshold. It also means that I'm running comfortably regardless whether it's really hot, windy, I had a bad night's sleep, or whatever. I used to decide on the pace I wanted to maintain and then do whatever I could to get there, even if it meant running to exhaustion. It means I give the same (appropriate) level of effort and don't obsess about my times.

Evaluation

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Sat, 23 Feb 2013 16:05:00 +0000

Lately I have not been motivated to run. It's been difficult to get out the door and go.Once I'm out there, I judge my performance - how fast (not) I'm going, how well I'm breathing, and how far I think I can go. It's not been far, or fast, or easy. So I've skipped a lot of runs. And the ones I've done haven't been at all inspiring.

When I'm able to be objective about it, these troughs seem natural. It can't always be easy, and one can't always see continuous improvement. The measurement stick is too blunt - there are so many micro-changes that happen as a result of running, so many modifications that happen at the cellular level, that using pace to track doesn't tell us very much. I try to remember this when I'm running, but the urge to judge is sometimes to much for me.

Yesterday I finally turned the data display off on my running watch. It made a huge difference. I actually enjoyed the run, because it didn't feel like such a slog. It was a beautiful sunny day and I found a groove and I was sad when it ended. Taking a break from running earlier in the week definitely helped, but it was the removal of up-to-the-minute evaluation that really made the difference.

I used to question people who would drop out of a race because their time wasn't going to be "good enough," but now I know that I've been doing the same thing in practice. And I also know that it's tempting to throw in the towel when it seems there's no chance of success. That the measure of success is something we choose for ourselves is easily forgotten. I forgot that I just want to run and I lost sight of the fact that it doesn't matter how fast I go - it's not a measure of whether I am a runner.

The parallels with sobriety are obvious. It's funny that I have to relearn this lesson over and over again.

Doing the Right Thing

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Sat, 16 Feb 2013 15:20:00 +0000

In my ongoing battle with the scale (by which I mean my battle to stop weighing myself and seeking instant gratification) I remembered how important it is to do the right thing because it is the right thing, regardless of the consequences. Let me explain. Usually when I don't eat sugar for a few weeks I lose weight (largely because I eat so much of it). I convince myself to get through cravings my reminding myself that the scale will be my reward. The only issue with that is that scales are notoriously inaccurate. Also, strict weight loss is not a measure of overall health. It is not a really valid measure of how well or how poorly we eat or exercise (except perhaps over the long term). This week I ended up weighing in a few times and my weight actually increased. I briefly considered going out for a chocolate bar. (I mean why bother!) But then I remembered I had to do the right thing because it was the right thing and not because of the consequences/reward. I need to stay focused on the reasons I decided to do this.

You know what? It worked. I didn't throw in the towel and eat junk. I still need to work at disentangling my relationship with the scale, but I'm sure I'll get there.

Sugar-Free Update

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Mon, 11 Feb 2013 15:34:00 +0000

Over the past ten days I've noticed a subtle shift in my energy levels and mood as a result of cutting out added sugar altogether. I feel more grounded and more stable. The first three days were really hard. I was so used to my afternoon and evening sugar pick-me-up that I felt a bit crazy, but after that I really didn't even want it. Which was great.

However, on Friday I had dessert after dinner. This led to cookies on Saturday (which weren't even very good). And then on Sunday I ate chocolate covered caramels, which were good. It doesn't really matter that I fell off this particular wagon, but I did notice something particularly troubling. It is this: while I was washing dishes on Friday, I started to tell myself that dessert once a week was perfectly fine and totally normal. Saturday, I decided that it made total sense to eat sugar on the weekends as long as I wasn't eating during the week. And the logic of this progression felt incredibly comfortable - it's exactly what I did when I was drinking. I knew with great certainty that within a few weeks I'd be back to feeling crazy and tired and jangled from eating sugary snacks every single day. Proof occurred on Sunday when I decided I'd start again Monday and used the excuse to cram in as much junk as I could handle.

So, I'm back on it. It's weird. I find it somewhat difficult to take this seriously, because it's not as bad as drinking. However, I do know that increasingly studies are showing a link between sugar consumption and a host of diseases. I also know that sugar and nicotine are both stimulants. In order to kick the smoking habit, I need to work on that overall dependence on stimulants. So it is important.

On another note, I spent the weekend worrying about work. I get the distinct impression that some people don't think I'm doing such a great job. I was working myself into asking my boss if this is true, when I remembered that what other people think of me is none of my business. Moreover, if I want to really address any concerns, I need to go directly to the source, rather than continuing a "he said, she said" tendency that's rampant in my company. I felt much better once I remembered both things - I just wish I'd remembered this on Saturday so that I could have had a more relaxing time.

First Things First

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Sat, 02 Feb 2013 16:05:00 +0000

I find myself back at the bottom of the sugar bowl. For the past month I've had a vague, nearly there, flu and it's knocked my on my ass. It reminds me of my drinking days (before hangovers were debilitating) when I was tired every single day. I feel bad enough to skip my run, but not bad enough to sleep all day. When I'm tired, I eat. To be specific, when I'm tired, I eat sugar. And I chain smoke. (I know! Even I can't believe I'm still smoking.) ...I almost forgot to mention the coffee.

Because both are stimulants, I understand the why of it. I'm trying to jumpstart my heart, to trick my body and mind into action. I'm trying to comfort myself with rewards because I feel so exhausted.

The trick of it is that (as we all know) stimulants provide a quick burst of energy and then leave us more tired than we were to start with. I also find that as the days turn into weeks, I can't tell if I feel bad because I'm eating crap, or if I'd still feel this way on a diet of organic whole food.

I know what I need to do when I get into this space. I need to (again) cut the sugar and crap right out of my diet. I need to stop excusing the behavior and to stop thinking about food the way I do. It's always been my "feel better" go to, my stress reliever, my reward, my secret pleasure. When I'm thin, it is also something I use to make myself feel iron-clad and special. (It's a weird thing, but somehow eating junk and being thin feels like winning at the slot machine, like I've beaten the system. Like I'm better. Like I cheated and I still won.) Hmmm. I think there's something to that.

Here's the real truth: the scale always creeps up when I replace healthy eating with junk food. I will pretend that it doesn't and I will lie to myself. I will play games and try to see just how much I can get away with before the inevitable gain. I will get into a wrestling match with the scale and feel betrayed when I gain weight. But I still won't accept the real truth: I do not have a special ability to escape the consequences of eating this way. I do not have special super powers. I am the same as anyone else.

So I'm going to crawl back on the wagon and try to deal with my triggers this time. I'm going to try to recognize that I'm no better and no worse than anyone else in this and I'm going to try to sit through, instead of eating through, my emotions. The smoking must also come to a stop (still working on getting there) and so I'll try to be more mindful about how I also use that to evade my emotions.

One question: my daughter just learned about eating disorders and was talking about how awful it is. She doesn't know about my history with bulimia. Should I tell her? I feel like I'm lying if I don't, but I'm also not sure how it would help her to know.

This is Becoming Habitual

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Fri, 01 Feb 2013 15:33:00 +0000

This not writing thing.

I do feel better now; my anxiety is gone. There are two reasons for this: first, everyone went back to school and work so I was able to get back into my regular routine. It's funny how much it matters now. Ellie wrote a beautiful post about this here, so I won't go on about that particular topic. I truly related to everything she put down there. Second, I was watching everyone else and focusing on how they felt, what they wanted, and that led me to forget to focus on my side of the street. It led me back to the space where I don't feel good enough and begin to pick away at my own self-esteem. Going back to work and getting back to the routine feels more comfortable and as a result I feel less stressed. I'm able to focus on my own side of the street without all of that awful anxiety. At the same time, I'm not really dealing with my tendency to freak out and worry that I'm not the person other people need me to be. I'm also not really reaching.

This also leads me inevitably to the the awareness that I'm not really working on my recovery. I'm clinging to my sobriety and hoping that nothing interrupts the comfortable life I'm lucky enough to have, but at the end of the day I'm still chasing my own tail. I'm still pushing down all of the shameful secrets and crossing my fingers and hoping I'll get through. It makes everything so very tentative and it means I'm filled with a lot of fear. It's all so unnecessary.

I realize now that I need to get back to working my program. I'm not sure what structure that will take, but I am sure it's time.

Old Anxiety

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Mon, 31 Dec 2012 15:46:00 +0000

Last night I had a very intense dream where a sober friend of mine started drinking again. I got very mad at him and said he should think through the drink, remember what it was really like before so that he'd quit again. He said, "Tara, I used to be like that. I'd think and I wouldn't drink, but you know what, I have that drink and I don't have to think anymore." It really freaked me out - the thought that it can all slip away so easily. On the other hand, I know that's a lie too. When I used to drink I thought all the time about what I was doing to myself and how I needed to change and that I wasn't good enough and that I had to do something, anything, to get out of that continual feeling of dread and sick.

I don't find Christmas difficult because I miss drinking. I find it difficult because it reminds me how life and happiness can sometimes hang by a single thread. One person can ruin it for everyone. One person can drink too much, or say the wrong thing, or get trapped inside their own problems and kill a simple dream. I know now that I have tools to deal with these small losses, but as a child I never did. I don't even remember having big wishes for huge gifts. I remember wanting a peaceful Christmas like those I saw at my friends' houses. It was never to be, not until years after my parents divorced. And even then I was still (and am still) haunted by Christmases past.

What I realized from my dream this morning is that I'm also a bit haunted by Christmas future too. Not because I'm afraid I'll drink, but because the fabric of my own family still feels so delicate. I'm afraid my husband will drink, or that I'm not good enough, or that I haven't said or done the right things and am a huge disappointment. That our marriage will fall away and everyone will be desperately unhappy. I'm not sure where this anxiety comes from, but it's here in force and it leads me to worry and scheme (yes to scheme) about how I can go about preventing it. The thing is that of course I can only focus on what I'm doing. I can only work on fixing what's wrong with me. I can only try to stay in the moment and accept it and find the peace that is there now. Worrying about the future this way buys anxiety I don't need. I have to let go of what I think I want and of what I believe I can control. I have to be open to the idea that I don't have all of the answers and never will.

Right now, I need to look around and see that everything is okay. Breathe.

Made It!

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Wed, 26 Dec 2012 16:34:00 +0000

I'm not sure why Christmas continues to feel like such a slog, but there you have it. It feels like a slog through the day and then it's over and I begin to feel better. The girls liked their presents and we had a lovely dinner and watched Shrek 3, which reminded me of how important it is to value what we have in the here and now.

I was even thinking about that as I did the dishes over the past few nights. So many chores in life are more enjoyable when I can live in the moment of doing them and not jump ahead to the future of what I might be doing (or would rather be doing). It's a breath of air and it feels ever so much better.

I'll pull together a better, longer, more thoughtful post later, but I wanted to check in.

I hope all of you had a delightful sober Christmas. If not quite, I hope you got through okay.

Sober Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Sat, 22 Dec 2012 16:41:00 +0000

This will be my third sober Christmas and I'm very excited about it. It's so nice to really relax and recharge over the holidays, instead of using the time to squeeze in more drinking with seemingly fewer consequences. It's nice to know that although I may embarrass my daughters, it won't be the alcohol talking. It's really nice to know that I won't scream at my husband about nothing on Christmas Eve.

I had this realization that there are many flashback moments that exist in my body, just under the skin, that weigh me down a bit about Christmas. A few days ago I was doing the dishes, looking out the kitchen window into the darkness, feeling anxious. I had a pre-deja vu moment (is that a thing?) where I remembered all the times my dad used to stumble into the house after he'd been out drinking. It was always worse during the holidays, because there were so many opportunities to drink. And there was this time that my uncle had a fight with my Aunt and came over to our house on Christmas Eve. The adults stayed up late drinking and when I got up to see the presents, he'd thrown up on the living room carpet. It was gross and I hated him a bit then.It's strange how these things sit just beneath the skin, rising to the surface with the hanging of Christmas lights.

I was trying to think of my own Christmas moments of shame. It took a while to remember any, to be honest (really showing how little we consider the feelings of others when we're drinking). Of course I do remember drinking to much. That's a given. But most of my moments of shame are sprinkled liberally throughout the year. However, my last drunk Christmas was a bit of a doozy. After dinner I drank a gallon of scotch with my dad (wtf??). My step-mother was annoyed as he started to fall asleep in situ. After everyone drifted off to bed, I stayed up talking with my step-sister until 3am. (I don't think she was drinking, but I know for a fact that I was.) When I got up the next morning, my hangover was so intense that I had wine with lunch. I had the feeling that my entire family thought it was "a bit much" although no one said anything. Nothing horrible happened (though who knows what memories live beneath my daughters' skins), but it was one of those situations where I felt vaguely pathetic. I remember trying to pace myself so that no one would think I was an alcoholic. I remember sneaking into the kitchen to top off my glass.

If I'd continued drinking I think Christmas would have become like that all the time.

Running

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Wed, 19 Dec 2012 14:25:00 +0000

It's very interesting to see how my running has changed now that I'm in my second year. I had a great first year - I even managed to drag myself through a marathon - and really made great progress. I went from thinking it would be impossible to run five minute intervals to running for more than an hour without stopping. I can see now that those runs were still really hard (some days they are still really hard). This is partly because my body hadn't had the time to build the muscles and stamina I needed to support my running body. But it's also because I had a notion about the pace I should be able to maintain and always started there, noticeably slowing as the run went on. In a word: I went out too fast for my fitness level. I'm still guilty of doing that, but I am getting better. I'm learning to s-l-o-w down. I'm using the first mile to warm up. I'm following advice on training paces (McMillan Running has pace calculators based on your current ability) so that I can improve my speed.

With the New Year in mind, I thought I'd put together a quick list of things I was supposed to do, but didn't do, and wish I had done last year.

Most Runs Should be at an Easy Effort
I read this again and again in every single book about running. Every single one. I ignored it. Well, I didn't ignore it, but I believed my 10 minute/mile pace was slow enough already. I convinced myself that I had faster paces in me to justify the practice.

The problem with running too hard when the run is supposed to be easy is that you miss out on active recovery and lose the benefits accrued by an easy run. It makes the next run harder (because you've worked too hard) and limits the mileage you can do on any given week. The other most important cost of doing this is that you miss out on the training benefits you can only achieve through the slower, easy pace.

Cross-Training Prevents Injuries
Again, this is everywhere. The idea is that by doing other activities you build strength in counterposing muscle groups and reduce the likelihood of injury. I had two reasons for ignoring this advice: first, I never felt like I had time to run as much as I'd have liked, so I didn't want to squeeze in another activity. Second, I really don't like exercise. Although I was really active as a kid, the only activity I've ever done with regularity as an adult (and that was in my 20s) was yoga. And I haven't done that in years.

Now, because of our car situation, I've been riding my bike a lot. I can feel increased strength in my quads. I plan to introduce regular core and yoga. Like this week. Simply running just doesn't do enough to build the upper body (which is needed to support injury-free running.

Judgment and Evaluation are Different Things
I've been tracking pace and mileage religiously since the beginning using first my phone and now my Garmin. I adore the Garmin. I hate to run without it. However, last year I continuously looked at my current pace so that I wouldn't go too slow. I felt discouraged if my pace was slow. I got really upset if I every run was not at my anticipated (hoped for) marathon pace. Basically, I treated every run as a measuring stick.

What I've realized recently is very basic. You can track your run, but choose NOT to display this data. In combination with my first point, I find that it's much more enjoyable to run based on perceived effort and then analyze the data later. By uploading once a week, I have enough distance from any given run and am then looking at broader patterns.

Goals Should be in Reach
The biggest mistake I made in running last year was to believe that I could achieve a faster pace through sheer will. If I missed my time goals I felt like a failure. I've since read that it can take up to five years to really see your capabilities as a runner. It takes a long time for your body to adjust to running. It takes patience and consistency, but improvement does happen. (Even when it seems like you aren't getting any better.)

This is a work in progress. Patience is difficult for me, and the temptation to feel I haven't worked hard enough to get where I want to be is a tempting default, even though it threatens my interest in running altogether sometimes.

5 Posts in One

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Sat, 15 Dec 2012 15:16:00 +0000

It took a while to finally figure out what I want (and I wish I was better at making decisions), but I finally did decide about that job. I realized that it would mean taking on a role I no longer enjoy with some hope that my role would change. Given the size of the company, it would have been unlikely. A few years ago I would have jumped for it in the hopes that it would work out. I would have been so desperate to leave my current job that I wouldn't have considered what I was going to. Change would have been enough.

Thankfully, this time I was in a better position to work through the options and to see that where I am now offers greater strategic opportunities than the position offered. It's no where near perfect. But I do have the flexibility to grow and learn. I will take advantage of that. Also, now that I know what I want, I'll know if something better comes along. I feel like I've finally found clarity around my career goals and objectives. I finally know (in a vague way at least) what I'm looking for.

I meant to write sooner, but we went skiing and there wasn't any coverage. It was surprising to be really away. And although the trip was exhausting and it squeezes the time we have for Christmas planning, it was really nice to get away.

Three days ago I saw a woman buying a case of beer at 8:30am. She was in her pajamas and her slippers. There was nothing else in her cart. She looked just like me, although I would have also filled my cart with a bunch of other stuff to cover the real purpose of my trip. It made me hope she would find peace. At the same time I fought judgement. Not because I never drank in the morning, but because I was more of a boy scout drinker - I almost never ran out. It also made me wish we could carry AA business cards, or that we were super heros who could swoop into the rescue. Lest you think I'm a total cow, I was buying cigarettes and saw that we were sisters in addiction.

This school shooting really threw me. The photos of the children especially remind me of how fragile our safety is. I always assume my kids are safe when I leave them at school (despite some bullying a few years ago that clearly demonstrates school hasn't changed much since I was a kid). Who shoots kids? Seriously. There have been too many events over the past six months that suggest we should home school and wrap them up in bullet proof blankets. Writing that, I remember that there are a lot of kids who aren't even safe in their own homes. It's distressing. And sometimes it feels like nothing can be done.

Finally, I seem to have picked up some low-level bug on the ski trip. I haven't been able to run without doggedly dragging myself through every mile for the past two weeks.It sucks, but instead of wishing for what I think should be, I'm taking a break. I hope I start to feel better, because it really sucks to feel so tired and out of sorts.

Wishing Away

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Thu, 06 Dec 2012 14:42:00 +0000

Years ago, when my oldest daughter was still a toddler, I can remember tucking her in a night and thinking "it must be so nice to go to sleep and wake up without a hangover." It was a weird random thought that flitted through my consciousness every month or two, depending on how much I was drinking at the time. I didn't want to quit drinking at that point, although sometimes I wished it would just go away. Poof. No more hangovers. I'm not even sure why I never considered actually quitting at this point, before any real damage was done to my kids, my marriage, and my reputation. I just didn't.

I still wish things away. I'll have a niggling feeling that something isn't quite right with my life and rather than do the work to remove the issue, I'll wish it away. I'll cross my fingers and hope it doesn't happen. Or that some mystical force will address it. Or that I'll get used to it and things won't seem so bad. Half the time, I'm not even sure what the right resolution is and I think that's part of my inaction.

Now that my daughter is growing up, I realize her life isn't quite so simple anymore. She has worries and responsibilities now. She carries her own burdens. I miss when things were simple. I hope she keeps telling me about what's bothering her for a long time. And I hope there's something I can say or do that helps her.

I am very glad to be sober today. I may not wake up refreshed exactly, but it is so nice to not wake up with a hangover. Even after almost two and a half years I can still say that.

Terrified of Change

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Mon, 03 Dec 2012 15:20:00 +0000

I'm fully aware that it sounds silly to say I fear change when I just made a huge move. The thing is, I was scared then too. But not this kind of scared. I moved a ton when I was a kid and over the past five years, we've moved a lot, so I feel like an old hand at it. As I write this, I wonder if it's silly at all. I was scared about making the move here and did have to address a lot of fears, especially around whether it was the right thing to do. I probably spent two months in a state of anxiety. The thing that's truly strange is that I've totally forgotten about all of that.

The locus of my fear right now is about my job. I was going to say my career, but let's be honest, it's really a matter of a simple job change and I'm not sure whether it's the right thing to do. I'm bored silly at work right now and because I'm working from home I miss out on the office chatter. I really really miss being around people - far more than I thought I would - and I'm having issues with motivation. There is the potential to change jobs (it may not even come to fruition) and I find myself wishing for some kind of sign (by sign, I mean a clearly written email from God telling me what to do in this situation). I am afraid that if I make the change it won't change how I feel about work right now - I'm unmotivated and really don't have the energy to try really hard. I'm afraid if I do go it will mean being stuck in the same role forever, without the opportunity for growth from within the company. I'm afraid if I stay, I'll be here forever. I've been unhappy with my current job for such a long time that it's become a familiar friend almost.

This is pretty rambling today, but I wanted to let you know where I'm at.

Don't Let Your Mind Ruin It

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Sun, 02 Dec 2012 19:06:00 +0000

Awhile ago I read a piece in the New York Times about two amazing runners. They're 10 and 12 and have been placing ahead of many grown-ups in trail races. Often, they are the only under-eighteen competitors. Although there is some debate about whether they should be allowed to run these races (harkening back to old theories about whether women can run), that isn't what stuck with me about this article.

Right before the race their dad says, "don't let your mind ruin things for your body." As a runner, this really spoke to me. On any given day I find myself coming up with all sorts of reasons to stop running. These reasons aren't real. Oh, maybe there's a slight twinge in my foot or my hip, or maybe I'm pushing it a bit hard that day. But the real truth of the matter is that I don't always like to run unless it feels effortless. My mind triggers thoughts of all that I should be doing instead, minor aches and pains become harbingers of severe injury, and when I allow these thoughts purchase, my running actually suffers.

I think sobriety is like this too. Our minds really do ruin things for us. Instead of feeling grateful for all of the gifts we've received, we pick apart situations until they're untenable. We don't feel worthy of ourselves and we think of how nice it used to be to check out for a few hours. We forget the bad parts of our drinking and reminisce about the good parts. We remember the cool blast of a nice glass of white wine.

On Friday at the grocery store one of the employees came over to the cheese aisle and asked if I wanted to taste some wines. It was a shock and jolted me out of my careful search for sheep's milk cheese. I couldn't have been more surprised if he'd offered me cocaine. It was only after my initial reaction that I noticed the table set up with tasting wines. Suddenly it seemed benign, but at the same time I could physically taste that first sip. And I could easily remember a time when a quick shop for an evening's dinner might have turned into an early buzz. It was such an urgent feeling that I had to grab a Dr. Pepper and swig it right in the store - so urgent was the need to get the imaginary taste of the wine out of my mouth.

Our minds our powerful. They give us permission to soar and they take it away summarily, often without apparent provocation. At the moment, I'm working to remember this when I'm running and I'm hopeful that lessons learned on the road will transfer themselves to other situations in my life.

Who knew the grocery store wine pushers could be so dangerous? Take care out there and remember to reach for a Dr. Pepper.

Dearest Blog

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Sat, 01 Dec 2012 16:04:00 +0000

It has been months since I've written regularly. I am still sober. Some days have flown by, so I have not written. Other days have dragged on endlessly without respite, but I've had nothing to say. I have occasionally decided that I would no longer write here, that the muse that drove my sharing had gone on to do other things. I've also considered starting (and have gone so far as to create) another blog not tied to my experience as an alcoholic.

Something keeps me here in this limbo. Something prevents me from walking away altogether. It is the incredible community and support I've found here. I don't know if anyone is still around, per se. I hope so, because I plan to write again more frequently. I need the opportunity to share what I'm going through, even when it's not much, because I don't want to find myself in a situation where I forget where I came from. Where it seems okay to have a glass of wine because it's Tuesday.

I also miss you guys. I miss the wisdom I find in the comments. I miss the sense of belongingness that comes from talking to other alcoholics. It's funny here, because no one knows I am an alcoholic. I am alien to them because I don't ever drink (and probably also because I run and ride my bike everywhere), but it never seems appropriate to say why I don't drink. In Canada I never worried about the negative connotations suggested by the word alcoholic. Here, it seems too ugly a word to say to people I've just met. It's difficult enough to say that we only have one car because our other car is stuck in Canada with my dad and we cannot buy a new one until he sells that one. This is a very driver-centric place. Hopefully they just think Canadians are weird.

Running is the one thing that's kept me sane and sober over the past three months. It is a place for checking out and putting in miles. While I'm out there I feel a bit like a super hero. The words "I am a runner" permeate my consciousness and make me go faster. When I get back from the run my fears about my career, paying the bills, and figuring out what to do with the rest of my life are quiet for a while.

I am finally ready to write again. Fingers crossed that I'll have something worth reading.

Surviving Las Vegas

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Sat, 03 Nov 2012 14:35:00 +0000

I spent four days in Las Vegas last week. I've always disliked it there, even when I was drinking. Without any boundaries to protect me from myself, being in Vegas meant far too much drinking. It meant self-pickling. It meant facing the feeling that I could and would drink endlessly without some kind of boundary to keep me safe from myself. I only went once.

This is the first time I've gone since I got sober. The first night I was there really reminded me of the shame and embarrassment I'd felt the last time. I don't like hotels with mini bars, the signs of excess. I thought about drinking...for about five minutes. Then what I felt was the fear that I would drink. The fear that I wasn't capable of resisting the urge. The fear that I would drink even though I didn't want to. And then I went running and I felt like myself again.

I realized that I am no longer the same person who drank to relieve pressure and escape from difficult feelings. I have grown and changed so much since then. So while I still felt tired and out of sorts because I was there, surrounded by the evidence that this life goes on around me, I didn't have to participate or make excuses for it. Trusting that I'd changed was enough to keep those demons at bay.

If You Haven't Seen It, Watch!

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Tue, 30 Oct 2012 18:50:00 +0000

Crying Out Now Anniversary Video
Crying Out Now was a big part of the reason I got sober. That, and reading One Crafty Mother. It was the first time I felt more than simple shame about my drinking. It was the first time I felt capable of changing. "Thank you" just doesn't express it.

Drug Store Triggers

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Tue, 16 Oct 2012 13:45:00 +0000

It is so easy to buy alcohol here that I begin to think my problem would have been ever so much worse if we'd lived here when I was at the end of my drinking. There is a shopping area about three blocks from my house. In it, there are three places I can buy booze: a grocery store, a drug store, and a liquor store. Additionally, there are two licensed restaurants that helpfully have a bar/lounge area and open at 3 pm. I really can't imagine how I would have been sober at any point if my days had been spent here.

Strangely, I am no longer troubled by the grocery store. Obviously, the liquor store is 100% avoidable. What triggers me is the drug store. It's a run down place and it's mostly junky with over-bright fluorescent lights. About 25% of the floor space is devoted to alcohol. Yesterday when I was wandering through every single aisle in hopes of finding the right light bulbs for our now-darkened kitchen, I came dangerously close to those aisles and found myself remembering how I used to be. There is still a bit of a pull, an itch. I wish it wasn't there at all, and sometimes I'm very afraid I will drink again. This fear eats away at me sometimes, even though it's stuck at some future point and not about today.

I'm lucky because my life has changed so much now that I don't have time to be seduced into several hours of semi-consciousness. I've come clean to my kids about why I quit drinking and have apologized to them for not being there for them. To drink now would violate all of the work that's been done to rebuild my relationships with them. I also finally have some credibility at work and don't have to worry that I'm going to get caught out for missing key things, like I had to do when I was drinking. And I finally know my husband and have a marriage that's pretty good most of the time. And there's running too - something that never would have been able to happen while I was drinking.

So, it's good to know that I don't have to drink today.

Edited to add: Guess what! The drug store that finds space for three aisles of booze does NOT even carry light bulbs.

Book Review Friday: Unwasted

noreply@blogger.com (The Act of Returning to Normal) — Fri, 12 Oct 2012 13:55:00 +0000

I really loved this book. Sacha Scoblic does a fantastic job of describing the impact of alcoholism and sobriety on her life and relationships.The primary theme of her book is that sobriety allows us to work towards honesty and intimacy, that we earn the lives we have. She is happy to be sober because it gives her integrity. She doesn't have to fear loss because she's actively working on herself and her relationships.

There were two elements that really struck me about the book. First, she talks about how she started shopping when she stopped drinking to fill the gap. I can relate to this, because, in addition to eating vats of candy, I also shopped to fill an emptiness that seemed far too big to fill. What's interesting is that she came to the conclusion that she believed she just needed more than other people. It was a justification for doing things she knew she shouldn't, for evading responsibility generally, and for avoiding herself. It was only when she realized this that she really felt she began to grow.

I've thought a lot about this notion of need. At a visceral level I really hate feeling need. It seems weak and hopeless and likely to disappoint. Looking back over my life, it's easy to see the ground littered with needs that went unmet. As a child, many of these were valid and truly counted as a basic need. Something shifted as I grew and wants began to cloud the landscape. Over time, my wants and my needs became indistinguishable to me, leading to an always present sense of disappointment. Instead of doing the real work of sorting and separating, I shut everything down by drinking. I pretended that I didn't need anything or anyone. I also pretended that every disappointment was an excuse to drink (or to shop, or to eat candy). At base, I still wasn't doing the real work of separating out wants from needs. And I still wasn't looking at myself closely enough to see that my needs really aren't greater than everyone else's. Nor are my disappointments. This process still needs quite a bit of work.

The second hard-hitting part of the book was about honesty with her husband and others who are close to her. She speaks about the habit of hiding, excusing and prevaricating that develops when we protect our addictions and about how difficult it is to stop doing it, even when we haven't done anything wrong. The evasiveness we develop when we're drinking (I only had two drinks, I'll complete the report tomorrow, I must have some kind of stomach bug), is difficult to stop. She points out that this problem is two-sided. It involves taking real responsibility when we screw up and letting the consequences follow. It also involves being aware that we don't have to lie when we did nothing wrong.

The first is easier for me. When I try to evade responsibility for something I've done (or haven't done), I feel that deep kick in the pants. I know I'm doing the wrong thing. I automatically think to myself: "put on your big girl pants and let the chips fall where they may." It's the second issue I struggle with. I sometimes lie when I don't even need to do so. I try to create an elaborate cover. I don't even know why I do this. The urge to self-protect, even in situations that are "safe" (because I haven't done anything wrong), feels deeply ingrained. It's going to take me some time to work through it and change.

If you're looking for a memoir I'd highly recommend this book.