Checking In: What’s Worse Than Terrible?
by
The Small Bow Family Orchestra
Our readers give us updates on their depression, sobriety, sex addictions, low self-esteem, Dry January, breastfeeding, pot-smoking, new marriages, ketamine treatments, and the tiniest of tiny victories that helped them live another day above the dirt.
illustration by Edith Zimmerman
*****
“I had my first kid a month ago yesterday. I'm trying to stay with it and be in this time with her, and of course, I can't shake the dread, of course, my family's mental illness and codependency are in full swing, and, of course, I'm blaming myself/obsessing over the injustice. I also became aware that my daughter may someday find out about what I did when I was drinking–especially the things in which I fucking hurt her dad–and it's devastating. It fits neatly into my overwhelming and pathological fear of being discovered publicly and abandoned privately for the piece of shit I am. So, I'm here, which is what I'm trying to focus on. And, being her mom is still the best thing in the world, second only to not being her drunk mom.”
– Anonymous
*****
“Been slowly and knowingly having less control over drinking and smoking weed since the pandemic started. Still too embarrassed/self-sabotaging to do anything about it but I will hopefully try in earnest this month.” – Anonymous
*****
”My daughter is seven months old. I love her more than anything. I thought it would be easy to abstain from things like alcohol or pot while breastfeeding because that's what's best for her. But it hasn't been easy, and I haven't abstained. We're switching to formula (ha! "we" is such a mom thing to say, like more than one person is involved here...) and I'm looking forward to getting my body back soon.
Other than fleeting moments of crushing guilt and self-doubt, I'm feeling pretty okay.”
– Anonymous
*****
“I think I'm doing alright. Maybe a few more downs than ups this month, but that's life, and I work to focus on the positive and know that other months will be different. My biggest struggle this month is that my 5-year-old was just diagnosed with ADHD. I always thought he was just an active kid, but we had concerns as his younger brother got older and saw the difference between active and ACTIVE. It took a lot to talk to his doctor about it; I wanted to ignore it and hope it was wrong or would go away.
I quickly realized that this was exactly how I handled my drinking - stick my head in the sand and keep on keeping on. Well, I know how that turned out. So talk to his doctor, we did. In the grand scheme of things, I know this isn't that horrible a diagnosis. I am blessed that it wasn't something more severe or life-threatening. But that doesn't change that I want my kid's life to be perfect and easy. I want to take away the bumps in the road and make things go smoothly. I also somehow feel responsible, like it was my tainted, damaged sperm that resulted from my drinking or all the extra screen time he got in the past two years that caused this.
Typing that out helps me see how ridiculous that thinking is, and I sort of know deep down that it is just me trying to find yet another way to punish myself for the guilt and shame I still struggle with. The most important thing is that I didn't use this as an excuse to drink. I have been checking in with myself to see how I am feeling and thinking, and the thought of drinking feels repulsive. How in the world is me going to the store and buying a handle of whiskey going to help him? Is that going to make things easier for me? No–I'm just going to feel like shit, mad at myself about throwing away over a year of sobriety, and even more guilty.
What a terrible idea! That makes me feel good and maybe even a little bit proud (working on that self-compassion thing). This got long, but it's nice to share and write it out. Perhaps I should try that journaling thing again. Anyways, I'm doing alright and taking things as they come each day and doing what I can and letting things go that I can't.”
– Anonymous
*****
“I've done the dry January thing a handful of times in the past and when I think about it now, it always seemed pretty effortless. I thought it would be effortless again! This time around, I only made it ten days before the old leftover beers I hid in the vegetable drawer of my fridge demanded to be drunk. It's worth noting that the drinking started after I made some questionable decisions in my personal life. I saw the throughline between these things immediately, and yet I've continued doing this thing that I know is bad for me. I'm still drinking *less* which I suppose I can count as a small victory. Plus, it's nice not losing a day each week to a hangover. I lean on cigarettes a bit too much, so I've tried giving myself an allowance of smoking only two every day, although sometimes I have more, or sometimes I have none at all. Every day or every moment presents a new opportunity to reestablish my will against these things, and it doesn't necessarily have to be all or nothing, but the more I can make the right decisions, the better. I wish it wasn't a decision at all, and I wish it came naturally. Maybe eventually, it will.“ – Anonymous
*****
”Seasonal Depression is kicking my ass. It's cold and grey and snowing, and I miss the sun. I am supposed to put myself in the shower and go through the motions of getting ready for my day, so I can trudge to my desk and go through the motions of my job until I've done that long enough I can quit for the day. I don't want to. I don't want to do anything, really.
Did I mention the depression? The other day, I took the little screening quiz and talked to my psychiatrist, who confirmed I am indeed depressed. I was honestly a little surprised by this revelation. I was depressed as a teenager, and this feels nothing like that. She went on about adult brains vs. teenage brains and explained that it wasn't likely to feel as intense these days and that she still thought I was depressed.
Since then, I can't help but notice it. Some days I wake up and cry and try to figure out how to skip work so I can do nothing all day. Some days I am grateful for the distraction of my stupid computer and typing out code to manipulate someone else's data. Some days I get a little burst of hope or inspiration and remember creativity and joy. Some days I wish for my old vices, a bottle of tequila and a pack of cigarettes, something to facilitate an escape from the struggle and pain.
Sometimes I think it's been almost four months since my breakup, and maybe a new love interest is what I need. Then I remember that my body is huge & I don't know how to date, especially during a pandemic, and I think about finding a counselor to work through whatever fucked up queer shame is inside me.
I have a lot of thoughts & a lot of time to think about them. I'm sad. I'm lonely. I hate winter. Someone bring back the sun so I can tell you stories of hope and sober joy and the beauty of life. Being so bleak is exhausting. I want to a cartwheel, barefoot, in the soft grass and laugh a deep belly laugh with someone who gets me. I want to squeal when the sprinklers come on, and we have to grab our stuff and run away from the spray. Maybe I should move to San Diego. Maybe I should take my shower & brush my teeth & start my day.” – Anonymous
*****
“Quit alcohol (for the 4th time) in early January, after two weeks of Christmas nightcaps undid an otherwise sterling attempt at low-risk drinking. Strangely, I don't miss it.
Other than mild withdrawal effects for the first few days, I've walked away from a cascade of Kraken and Ontario gin seemingly unscathed. No cravings. No shakes. No fugitive late-night trips to the liquor store. I just don't want to drink anymore, and I cannot for the life of me explain why.
I still struggle with attention, with cultivating space for the writing I've dreamt of for almost a decade now, with sinking into the same video games over and over and over again. I'm still obsessive, neurotic, and overdramatic. And I still don't quite know how to fix that. But, hey, my liver is happy.” – Anonymous
*****
“I feel like the world is actually ending, and yet I'm still worried about such stupid, meaningless things.” – Anonymous
*****
“A sponsor once told me that I could speak up about things that bothered me. If I chose not to speak up, I did not get to stomp around being mad and resentful. Whatever it was, I should suck it up. Mostly I sucked it up. Why not? After a lifetime of speaking up to family members and bosses who ignore what I say, I never expected to speak up and have something happen.
I recently spoke up about a situation, and then the situation shifted in a promising way. Maybe the shift was completely unrelated. Maybe it had something to do with me. I will probably never know. Either way, now I feel discombobulated and uncomfortable. I am so used to feeling ignored and, thus, righteously indignant, but here we are: I got what I wanted, and it doesn't sit right. Instead, I feel guilty and worried and odd.” – Anonymous
*****
“I just had our 4th child on November 18th. I LOVE her so much, and she's this beautiful little angel. AND we have three older ones, ages 16, 11, and 4. I am feeling spent; for the first time in sobriety, I am feeling resentful of the program. It feels like I have to manage one more thing.
I'm having a little bout of Postpartum OCD where I can't control my obsessive, anxious thoughts. I'm getting therapy for that and am so grateful I'm able to ask for help. But I'm just so freaking overwhelmed.
But honestly, every single thing feels so hard to do right now. Showering. Cleaning. Ordering groceries. Sleep training the baby. Potty training the four-year-old who decided to start going in their pants again once the baby was born.
My arms are sore from holding the baby. My breasts are sore from milk and feeding her. My back is sore from carrying her and rocking her. I'm exhausted from that and managing the other kids’ appointments like dentist and doctor and school and activity and birthdays or paperwork and SAT prep classes. And I'm going back to work next month, which makes me feel deep dread.
I know the solution should be to lean into my program, but I don't want to. I don't want to go to meetings, call people, work with sponsees, or pray or meditate. I just want to sleep for a very long time and wake up in a year when this doesn't feel so hard.
Sorry to be a bummer. I'm afraid to tell anyone else in recovery because they'll tell me I'm full of self-pity or something and that I need to get over myself, lol. I don't want to hear it!!! Thanks for listening. “
– Anonymous
*****
“Newlywed and everyone expects me to be on Cloud 9 and of course I'm happy to make my long-term relationship Official with the government. My husband is my best friend and when I can, I feel lucky about it. Sometimes one of my cats yawns and it's so pure, tender, I feel my eyes welling up. But most of the time, I still feel like I'm ensconced in wild, salty water, waves continually crashing over my head leaving me unsure which way is up, desperate to drink in some oxygen, growing wearier with each new plunge. It isn't something I'm proud of, but I hope to get pregnant soon so I have a good reason to finally let my bottles gather dust.
Is it okay if we print anonymously? Or my initials—BG—is fine.”
– BG
*****
“I have an addiction to sexual temptation which resulted in multiple sexual encounters over numerous years, all while being married with kids. I've been in recovery for over five years, and my physical sobriety remains strong–no pornography, no hook-up sites, no escorts, no massage parlors, etc. My emotional sobriety has improved dramatically. I'm present with my spouse and kids, connected to my extended family and friends, and having open and vulnerable conversations with all of them. My spiritual sobriety is up and down, but overall I couldn't be more grateful to have a guidepost/Higher Power in my life.
But my mental sobriety? Not so much. My mind often drifts into a fantasy land where I relive the past or create new scenarios where I'm the star.
There's more to being sober than just not fucking other people. Feels good to say that. I still have so much to learn.”
– Anonymous
*****
“Sincerely, I'm feeling hopeful for the second time in my recovery. The first time was 2.5 years ago when I completed my 5th step with my sponsor. I felt a gigantic release of shame, and a quivering, delicate light of hope gently ignited within me. That felt good.
And recently, after going to a week-long Intensive Outpatient Program in the desert six months ago, beginning to wrestle my codependency to the ground, not making my partner my higher power anymore, working my program more consistently, and taking 300mg of Wellbutrin daily, I am noticing I can handle my reactions to events much better than ever before. More gifts of sobriety are revealing themselves to me, and hope for sustained recovery becomes a little brighter every day.
It's almost 180 since the last time I did this check-in. And I'm super grateful for that.” – Anonymous
*****
“I do not feel that great, and it's still all rooted in the Depression, capital D. I'm particularly concerned because I've done seven ketamine infusions, and at the last appointment, the doc said, "Seven's a good number. We could go to eight, but you seem better."
That was about five days ago, and somewhere around two days ago, the bottom dropped out again. I hate this. And I feel like, even though I term the experience during infusion to be a "byproduct" of the long-term, cumulative antidepressant effect of the ketamine, I'm pining for the experience during the infusion.
The whole thing, even the afterward and the leading up to it. Am I at risk of something here? Am I just overthinking it? Have they checked this drug out on people like me with long-term sobriety? Or did I just get hooked on the drug, and now I need it, and I'm like one of those people I've known who had long-term sobriety and then they had a car accident and were prescribed opiates and then they lost their sobriety date, and they're back counting days??
It sounds like overthinking. I am not so much yearning for the psychedelically blissful experience but just wanting to feel better ... which I did experience, for days, afterward. I don't know where it went. Or how it all works. I'm sharing in this context a prayer out to the world of sober listeners to mull this over. Boy, I ran on long here. How much time do I have? I'll be okay. That's enough out of me.” – Anonymous
*****
“i used to think stillness was a symptom of social death. but now i enjoy slowness, solitude, even what i used to call boredom. i see it all as a way to coil deeper into myself, into a knowing of self, and trusting the inner wisdom within. sounds hokey, i know, but it's also sanity.”
– Anonymous
*****
“Tomorrow is my first psych appointment with a new psych. The anxiety is returning, but the depression was great while I had it. I miss the world, and I miss being confident that I had a place in it. I miss a time when I was comfortable just to exist and not feel like my entire purpose is to serve as a vessel for all the small and vast sorrows of the world. I don't miss smoking every day, and for a month, I haven't. I thought I'd miss it more. It's funny what sticks and what doesn't.”
– Anonymous
*****
“How I’m doing: What's worse than terrible?
When I started my sobriety, I thought of it as a list of can'ts: can't get drunk at a wedding, can't have happy hour beers, can't watch the game and get so drunk you forget who won, etc.
This last month has shown me without a doubt my sobriety is more of a rock, one that I'm currently hanging on for dear life as I watch my life get deconstructed piece by piece: Fiancée and I broke up, she started fucking someone new three weeks later. We bought a house together so we are still roommates right now. Oh, and the house has a main water line that was buried too shallow so our entire pipe system froze up and we have no running water. (The city and the three plumbers I've talked to have all suggested I wait for it to thaw...in April.) Also, my dog is sick and, on top of that, my daughter's daycare provider recently got covid.
So I've been working from home with an ex, a sick dog, no water and a hyped-up toddler. Still haven't poured a drink, and I don't think I'm going to. I wouldn't be able to handle this if I did.”
– John
