No More Headspace
by The Small Bow Family Orchestra
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This month our readers grapple with faithlessness, desperation, relapses, spiraling insecurity, and…. tiny oven mitts.
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“It takes all of my energy to try to be normal and likable, and I think working from home is continually decreasing my ability to assimilate. I took my mother-in-law shopping over the weekend. She bought a tiny, red oven mitt. I mean, it must have been made for a gnome or a genius baby chef, it was so small. I made a big fucking deal about the tiny oven mitt, and who even cares? But I just kept going on and on about the tiny oven mitt. She looked at me like I had three heads. Even now, though, if I think about the tiny oven mitt, I get super pissed off.” – Anonymous
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“So much continues to go wrong that I’m scared for my future. Yet, when I think about drinking, that’s still a hard 'No way. Not now. Maybe never and no hurry.’
Flip side, I started taking pills for energy and a mood lift early 2020 when work became utterly overwhelming. Have stopped a few times and ‘detoxed myself,’ but started back when work pressure amped up again.
Never escalates in number but it’s been daily now for a long while. My gut tells me to knock it off. If doors keep slamming in so many directions, maybe just let things fall apart. Coming off the pill thing is completely awful for a couple weeks max. Weepy, zero energy, sweaty, horrible thoughts. I dread it—and it’s seemingly one of the only things within my control, so planning to tackle that. I’m actually disappointed in my life, hard and so sad to admit. I’ve always been a believer that you get up and keep going, things will work out. Don’t feel that way now and haven’t for the past couple years. What if I’m just too beat up for hope or real forward progress to return?”
– Anonymous
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“I can't seem to string together more than a few days of being a person before I get spooked and retreat. I'm being a person right now, but who knows how long it will last this time. I'm really scared that this is the best I can do. I hope that's not the case. But right now, it might be.”
– Anonymous
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“I am taking more Klonopin, which seems like the wrong direction I want my sobriety to take. Either way, I'm lying in bed trying to sleep, thinking calmly about how much I want to kill myself. Maybe it's my program, the solitude, the relapse dreams I'm having, I'm not sure, but I wouldn't say things are going well.” – Anonymous.
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“I forgot to hit send (or even compose) my check-in for September. I was barely hanging in during August. At one point, I realized I was not sleeping enough, impacting everything. Talking with my therapist, I am trying to pay attention to the sleep trains (the yawns, the tiredness) and go to bed when I notice the first one. Instead of going on my phone, doom scrolling, online window shopping, or watching a show, I will Go! To! Sleep! And this is working—I am getting more sleep, better sleep, and feeling more rested and human. Over the last 4 months, I have had more frequent and intense nightmares (panic terrors), and this sleep train approach has been helping with those too. I feel relieved and excited to build this sleep train awareness into a habit and routine, not just an experiment. Beyond sleep, I am trying to notice the moments of joy, let go of shit and situations I know I'm trying to control, feel my feelings, and connect more with people I love (including myself). I am doing service in my recovery programs, and that feels good. I am so grateful for the TSB community and the acceptance and belonging I feel. Okay, overall 6/10 for September, which is up from a 4/10.”
– Anonymous
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“Here I am, making small unsuccessful attempts to describe what is going on with me and my “recovery.” Oh, look, there are the ironic quotes: I can't decide if I even get to have a proper recovery, just like my mind can't decide if I ever had a problem with alcohol.
I did, though. Or I do, even though I'm 167 days alcohol-free right now. (But who's counting, right?) I have no horror stories of lost jobs, homes, partners, or family. I have hundreds of drinking stories that can be told in different ways: hilarious to the people who drank like I did, slightly troubling, or scary to others. All I know is that there was never any “that's enough” or “I should go” or “Nah, don't open another bottle” with me, especially when it came to wine.
So no real moment made me say, “let's try it without.” But I did, and I am. It turns out that “without” is a lot harder to understand than “with,”mainly when “with” was a standard, relaxed state. A hangover's absence is a quantifiable event. But what is the absence of very subtly feeling like shit all the time? What is the absence of wondering when it was cool to open the wine, calculating the amount of wine left, feeling bad about drinking all that wine? It is like turning off a machine, or an electric light that you did not even realize was emitting a hum and putting your nerves on edge. Silence. Space. Nothing. Which are relatively terrifying concepts.”
– Anonymous
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“I'm in a spot right now, trying to kick a food addiction. The mechanics aren't that different from other addictions, from what I've learned talking to others recovering both at the hospital and in groups. But I'm tight right now. I have to fast for three months to get bariatric surgery to help me size down. I'm dangerously large right now. My family has always been supportive, but honestly, after 40 years of this, they probably aren't very hopeful of my recovery. My partner, she's amazing, but I sense her weariness, too. I'm exhausted by this as well, needless to say. I'm in week 4 of being “clean.” There have been a few slips and I'm unsure how I will get through the next three months. Everybody says, “one day at a time,” and I'm trying. But I'm hungry, and the body doesn't understand anything else. Give me what I want, what I need. I'm tired of talking back to it.”
– Anonymous
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“As of September 23, I've been a mom for an entire month. That is to say, I've earned a different type of 30-day chip.
It is strange to mark this as a milestone, though, because time officially has no meaning for me right now. I find myself awake at 4 A.M. far too often. If I have two free hands (a rare occurrence! ) I will be eating, regardless of what time it is. I will fall asleep for a two-hour nap at 10 A.M. when I can. And no, I don't consider a nap at 10 the same as going back to bed, regardless of what my mother-in-law might say.
In brief, I have absolutely no control over my life. The last time I felt this way was when my drinking was at its worst. But unlike when I was drinking, this lack of control is a blessing because it's caused by this tiny, adorable tyrant I created. Since his appearance, “love” has taken on an entirely new meaning.
And yet, sometimes, when the screams go on for more than a few minutes, or he refuses to just go to sleep, or he demands to nurse for hours on end, I find myself missing the days when I could just remove myself from reality with a bottle of wine. But then his eyes will make contact with mine, or he will smile in my general direction, and those thoughts are gone. Instead, I am once again just so damn grateful to have this perfect tiny tyrant in my life and to be sober and fully present for every moment of this adventure.” – Anonymous
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“I've been in a deep depression for months that has been significantly worse than past episodes. Two things are different this time: I don't want to kill myself, and I have some hope that things will get better. That's all I can grasp at the moment, but it is enough.”
– Anonymous
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“Last month, my partner's long-term antidepressant quit working. The first new med they tried seemed to reduce the internal temp from a boil to a simmer but didn't exactly take the edge off on some of their interpersonal interactions. So now we're on Day 2 of another medication change. Things had been so stable for the last ~3 years it's weird (and unsettling) to be back on the med change rollercoaster. The increased feelings of depression (which, in my partner's case, usually translates to low/no energy, lack of self-care, and lots of laying in bed...) means I'm picking up what slack I can around the house. But in practical terms, it amounts to more and more shit just left undone. Which tends to leave both of us feeling down. It's encouraging that my partner is continuing to do "the work" - seeing a therapist/psychiatrist more frequently, going to work (it's two years on the j-o-b this month, and their boss left a glowing assessment on their annual review), trying the new meds instead of saying "Fuck it!" and chucking all the pills in the river. Maybe I'm grasping for flimsy strands of hope, but I'll take what I can get.
Just feeling the weight of this situation and some other things lately. Feel tired and stooped at times. Probably should reach out more and get my ass to some more meetings. It's what I would tell someone in my shoes to do.” – Anonymous
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“I managed to not use the entire month of September. I relapsed in June, used in July/August, and stopped on the last day of the month. It was a rough 30 days. After three weeks, I was meditating with a group at an AA meeting and my grief rose into the back of my throat and was so powerful I almost began sobbing. Removing drugs meant I started to feel again. Not using meant I had to ask for help from others, trust in a power greater than myself, and do what I am told. Today, I am sober and clean but I continue to want to sleep more, avoid exercise, and generally struggle. But after many attempts, I’m following what my sponsor tells me to do—90 meetings in 90 days. If only I could come to a sense of peace and loving for myself and forgive myself for my addiction, and the damage it caused.”
– Anonymous
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“I finally quit drinking for good and started to pull myself together. I waited six months before going on any dates. We met online of course. Upon finding out that I didn't drink he said “Cool, I won't drink either.” We didn't talk about our troubled drinking, both kinda played it off. But really, I could feel him holding onto me like I'd just scooped up a cold little kid who swam in the river for too long.
One night in the warmth of our bed I brought it up, how he had quit drinking when we met. “I love you more than I love alcohol,” he said. And in that moment, so much became clear to me: That was all I ever wanted. I wanted my alcoholic mom and my alcoholic dad to love me more than alcohol. I wanted every one of my alcoholic boyfriends to love me more than alcohol. And I dunno, somehow just hearing it said out loud helped me understand that unspoken need. I know, I know—people choosing alcohol over their kids or partner isn't about how much they love or don't love them. It's an addiction. But I still need someone to love me more than they love alcohol. I realize that now. Ideally that someone is me. Anyway, 15 months in. Wish me the best.”
– Anonymous
