Some Days It Fits Like a Corset

There are days when I rise from slumber, ready to shed loose-fitting, airy bedclothes of the previous night and dawn the garments of life, feeling as if overnight I gained about 300 pounds. Perhaps, I chose the wrong thing to wear---the overtight mini versus the diaphonous caftan, the leather pants as opposed to the oversized tunic. Whatever happens, some days I wake up stuck in the bubble-head of the pupa I am trying to outgrow. Today, unfortunately for me, was ANOTHER one of thooooooose days. Apparently, I selected the corset and then asked to be laced and pulled extra tight so that my perceptions of 'life' for today were just as misguided, over-exaggerated and askew as they were in the past, reminding yet again what an exhausting process this is. Yesterday, I went to a meeting. Last night, I read the book. I read and I listen and I think----OOOOOHHHHHH that's when it happens. Yes...when I think. Will someone puhhhhhleeeez turn off the noise in there! It's as if I need a landlord, a super in my head that I can call when the noise gets too loud and just ask that it please be turned down because I cannot carry on a conversation, I cannot watch T.V., I cannnot read and most of all I cannot think! By thinking, in this sense, I mean about the good things. More and more, I learn the trick of taking that noise and turning it into beautiful music or an affirmation or a pleasant thought about the customer standing in front of me, chewing me out about something I was assumed to have failed in, pushing my 'you're not good enough' button and how their dress is pretty or their jewelry is divine. Making something good out of something bad was perhaps a gift that I once possessed as a child but have lost somewhere along the way. Nevermind the 'gift' reference, I need to remember that it is more a skill that was lost. Defending yourself against those forces in life which really and honestly told you those things---YOU are not good enough, YOU should not have been born, YOU should have earned an 'A' not a 'B+'---perhaps this constant need to defend burns out some portion of your brain that used to reverse those thoughts. The skill is lost, you grow up thinking the same repeated nonsense that someone taught you and one day in a fit of brilliant light remember....someone taught you those things. They are not true. They are thoughts. You ARE good enough. You ARE special. You ARE deserving of life and all of its love, passion and beauty. So, here is where I am---taking a bunch of shitty, old, beaten, crumbling VHS tapes (the ones with the tape actually pulling out of the sides) and erasing them. I find that that the hardest ensemble to wear---is the gaudy one I make out of that garbage in order to record the new stuff. And so it goes....

The Convincer

For a long time, I thought I was crazy. Before that, I thought I was a glutton for punishment. Coexisting with these previous notions was the thought that God hated me and I was merely one of those poor souls who was destined to live a life of misery, being punished for some heinous act I had committed and did not understand. Most prevalent of all, was this glorious buffet of thoughts that I chose to either pick at or gorge upon at any given moment. Unfortunately for myself---and of course for those 'lucky' enough to be around me, this 'Willy Wonka' thought scenario wasn't candied apples and cotton candy swirls.

No. In fact, although Johnny Deppesque at best, it was more akin to Edward Scissorhands or The Secret Window. As opposed to sweetness and palette-pleasing dishes, I preferred maggots, mealworms and fare fit only for consumption on your worst episode of 'Fear Factor.'

Some days I chose other methods of self-destruction---yes, dining such fabulous fare does lose its attractiveness. Some days I turned away from the buffet and instead perused the selection of weaponry. Who doesn't need an occasional beating anyway? The whips and chains laden with glass, nails and jagged pieces of metal that I chose to beat myself with were of course fictional, but they hurt no less than the lies I told myself, the thoughts I conjured up in my head.

After all, I'm Nicole and I'm ugly, terrible, crazy, unlovable, undesireable, loathesome, scary, desperate, lost and most of all---do NOT deserve happiness in any shape or form. Which, in fact, is why I managed to sabotage anything good in my life. ANYTHING! I didn't deserve it. Hell, as far as I was concerned, I didn't deserve to breathe the air some days.

I really believed this. No...I really did. That is until one day someone told me a secret---the secret that changed my life. They said to me---Nicole, you are crazy, but you are not unique. Your story is just like millions of other people. Now, I hate to take this away from you, your terminal uniqueness and all, but you are an alcoholic, you were born unto alcoholics and you think just like them. I'm sorry to tell you, but you are a wonderful person---you just don't know who YOU are just yet.

Wow! Really? I mean, it made sense...but bring out the whips and chains, there's still a little beating left to do.

I have been attending AA meetings, as a newly sober adult, for about a month now. Until two days ago, I had 28 days of no drinking. Yes, that means not even a 'glass of wine with dinner.'

Like I said, sometimes I still have to bring out the whips and chains for old time's sake. This pase Saturday night, after many weeks of positive, 'onward and upward' motion, I got stuck in my head---as I like to call it, of course. Say what you will, the obsessive onslaught of 'you're a piece of shit' related thoughts was too much to bear. The usual methods of detonating these heat-seekers were not engaging this particular night. Apparently, sometimes the defenses are down.

After work, I sat with a friend on a stoop on 76th street, right near my place of work. The gears of the alcoholic mind had been turning for hours, but our conversation about a certain relationship of mine, compounded with confusion about this friendship set off a 'Self-Hate Armageddon.' Everybody run for the bomb-shelter---we are under attack!! What was said was said...I, already under seige and unable to cope, unable to defend. Man down.

Three weeks! Three weeks and so much progress....now back to square one. DAMN. No one ever told me it would be this hard. My best thinking got me to AA, but all my thinking that night was doing was sending me to the trenches. I turned to my friend, hand over my mouth, eyes full of hurt and pain as they were so many days in the past, and rose from the step. I walked to the corner, hailed a cab and told the cabbie '108 and Amsterdam' where I knew a drink would be waiting.


Yes, it happens that quickly. Yes, I drank. Did I like it? Nope. Did I think I would? Yep. That's why it's called 'The Convincer' (like some goddam super hero). The drink was not the answer, and it did not take the thoughts away, it did not ease the tears and it did not make me feel any more powerful and loved that I was before. What it did for me was tell me that I am on the right path. I have made the right decision. Yes, I am crazy. Fortunately, I can control the lunacy---ONE-DAY-AT-A-TIME. It will be years, and it will be hell, but I am worth it. One day, I will have no use for the whips and chains with which I used to have so much fun with---one day I will throw them away. Day by day, I pick them up and yet find myself putting them back down.


'We admitted that we were powerless over alcohol---that our lives had become unmanageable'

Yes, it had. Today, however is a new day. Today, I wake up and I pray and I meditate and I take control of my head. After all, a power greater than myself can restore me to sanity. Everyday I get a little more sane. Looking back, even if it was really only yesterday I was 'her', my life is perfect---always was. The only way I could have figured that out----was to be sober.