Welcome to the Jungle

It's rough in here.

Let's all pretend you don't see me.  And then don't bother me, m'kay?

First things first.  I love my job.  I'm so grateful for my job.  My boss took a huge chance on me almost 10 years ago when he didn't have to and we are doing swimmingly all these years later.  The main reason I love my job so much is because my boss is an excellent man with character and respect and shows appreciation for what I do constantly.

Now, things I've learned and seen while here for almost 10 years.  In the CORPORATE JUNGLE.  a.k.a. Lessons from a Desk Jockeyess. I'm a round circle trying to fit into a square peg.  And I've calmed down a lot.  I don't fire off office wide emails bitching about something ridiculous and get scolded by the Office Manager nearly as much as I did back in the day when I thought I knew everything.  Guess what asshole (meaning me)?  You work in a corporate office.  Get with the program. 

Once I learned to keep my mouth shut and not fight every fight, things got way easier.  It's not my business to feel offended by every single slight that happens to me or to someone else. Jesus, I was a huge asshole when I first got sober.  Which, when I started working here, I was one year sober.  CRAY CRAY.  My boss knew I was one year sober and he did it anyway.  He didn't have to.  I probably should have been fired about 46 times by now.  I couldn't get through a background check back then, I don't know if I could get through one now due to my stays at state run facilities and firings from other jobs, but because I started out temp to perm, I didn't ever have to do one. 

I've learned if I zip it on the whole, the times I do chose to open my gob, it's more powerful.  I pause, I ask opinions of others, and I sit with it for a while before reacting.  And 95 percent of the time, I find I don't need to react.  What a gift.  All tools I learned from the 12 Step Program I work.   I never did that shit before.  I just popped off.  Over and over and over.  It's life changing to be able to pause. 

My reviews from co-workers used to say things like, "Katy is not a team player and her skirts are too short."  Seriously, they said that.  Now, they are glowing and beaming about my attitude and the general length of my skirts and praising my "wicked sense of humor".  When I make a fuss now, it gets taken more seriously than if I make a fuss about every little damn thing.  This is huge stuff.  And it's not to say people actually like me here.  But they don't have to.  That's something I learned as well.  This is a job.  We aren't friends.  If we happen to make a few friends through work, that's just a bonus. 

I'm playing in their world and they are paying me to do so, so it's best I keep my opinions to myself.  Now, if only my co-workers could do the same. 

What I have learned.  Nothing earth shattering, but damn is it tedious and soul sucking.

1. People love to say "Good Morning!"  Seriously, they will fall all over themselves to make a big fucking deal to say good morning to you, and then go on to remain utterly quiet the whole rest of the day.
2. People love to say "Have a good night/weekend!"  See number 1.
3. If you sit in a common area, which I do, in a cube without doors or walls or barriers from the masses, people think you are there as ornament and for their own amusement. EXAMPLE: while I have my headphones on and it's clear to a self-aware human that I am in the middle of furiously typing something, say this blog, humanity stops and stares and wants to talk about something very important. Say, how the football game (everyone knows I hate football) was last night, or "WOW, YOUR PLANTS ARE SO BIG, IT'S LIKE A JUNGLE IN HERE".
   



You know what people don't like?  You making fun of what they say every time they walk by. 
SO STOP FUCKING SAYING THE SAME THING EVERY GOD DAMN TIME.  I made this helpful sign and put it up one day at my cube so I wouldn't have to answer people.  It caused more confusion than it helped. FAIL.

4. "IT'S FUCKING COLD IN HERE".  The single most common phrase I hear from humanity walking past my desk.  I have heard it 846 million times in 10 years.  Without the "fucking" part, of course.  People just cannot help themselves.  How the hell do I respond to that?  If I'm feeling plucky or even hear them, I respond with, "really?  I think it's perfect" and then awkwardness ensues.  If I'm crabby and tired of the bullshit, I don't say anything.  And then awkwardness ensues.
5. THE LADIES ROOM.  Whole. Nother. Level.  WOMEN of the world.  PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.  Do your business and get the hell out.  No talking.  No loitering.  It's simple.  And for the love of all that is holy, don't talk to me while I'm in a stall.  Did your mothers teach you nothing? 
6. THE OFFICE KITCHEN.  When you enter the kitchen, don't look at whatever is in there and comment about it to whoever is in there.  NOBODY CARES.  Really and truly, nobody cares.  Don't discuss what people are eating or not eating or what they SHOULD try or not try.  It's the most soul suck-and-destroy mission to engage in this type of conversation.  Which is why most times, I walk right back out when someone else is in there.

I don't care.  About most of the shit people say and do here.  But guess what?  They pay me, so Imma shut up and keep my head down.

As I was writing this rantarific post, this quick note came in from a co-worker.  Not all of them are annoying as shit.  At least not all the time.  There are a few co-workers I genuinely like and so appreciate.  Just knowing they are here helps my sanity.

"I just have to say how fantastic you look.  I was going to mention it to you in the kitchen but then ____ walked in and I didn't want to embarrass you.  You have motivated me to get back on track and lose some weight myself.  I've been making a lot of excuses lately and I'm at the point where I'm mentally ready to fight this battle ;-)" 

I met my closest friend, My Lynnie, here at work.  She sat right next to me her first couple years here.  We clicked on every level.  The way you only do with a select few people in life.  Then she had to move aways from me.  Then another good friend moved in right next door.  Leigh Anne is funny and a spaz and exhausting all at once.  I love her heart dearly.  She plays with me like a champion.  She takes my ribbing in good fun and keeps coming back for more abuse.  Eventually she had to move away from me too.  I know they didn't WANT to move away from me.  RIGHT?  RIGHT?  Of course I have my Young Jonathan to keep me laughing and fully plied with pickles and snark.  Other than that and my Boss, I am now alone in my island of cubicles, which Management finally figured out is the safest solution for everyone here.

There have been many lessons learned here in almost 10 years.  The best part?  They pay me for this shit.  And I am so very grateful. 

I Enjoy Being a Girl and a Proud Drunk



I even enjoy faxing shit. And looking damn good doing it.



I do.  I enjoy being a girl.  In all this fancy pants glory and beautiful flippant bouffanty sparkly shiny goodness.  I enjoy dressing up and wearing make up and heels and jewelry and wearing dresses practically every day.





Two performances and songs that are regularly sung and danced out in my head and by my body are these two below:

HOWEVER, being a girl is about way more than just the pretty and the frou frou.

I have a mind.  A good one at that.  Being a woman, I have a heart that is rich and deep and wounded and vulnerable, no matter how much I try to protect it. 

Being a woman means a lot of things, but to me it means being gentle and tough, it means walking through fear with grace and dignity. 

I celebrate stereotypical femininity.  That word is LOADED with expectation and even negativity.  Feminine.  I proudly hoist my girls up so they look the best they can, and I perch upon heels so that my legs look even better in that skirt. I do this because I love it.  No one forces me, and if they did, you can bet your ass I would do the opposite.  That's how I roll, yo.  That's feminine of me, right?

The essence of a tormented woman is here in The Original Joanie Holloway.  Being a woman is a big responsibility.  We have to show to the world we are more than what we are packaged in, and yet, it is so much fun to be wrapped in a pretty package.  The play is the thing.  The balance between being a smart, capable woman and the way the world will treat you if you look a certain way.  I didn't make the rules, but I also don't have to contribute to the ongoing figurative slaughter of women and girls who don't fit the lipstick and heels picture of what a woman "should be".  I'm not one for feminist preaching, but damn it feels good to say and do whatever the hell I want, and for that I am thankful.  

Most people go through life never haing to deal with AA or getting sober or any of this stuff*.  I was a low bottom drunk.  I lost everything.  Starting with my self respect and dignity and ending with material things like jobs, relationships, homes, family, cats, cars. 

Being a drunk woman is SO not pretty.

 You know what they say - getting sober is like playing that old country record backwards, you get your truck back, your job back, your wife back, your dog back. You don't usually get back the same shit you lost, but well, you get the point. Your life gets better.

For a woman to be able to walk into AA meetings these days and not be ostracised like it used to be is a huge gift.  We are still outnumbered in meetings. By a lot.  But it takes courage to walk in and say "yes, I'm a woman and I'm an alcoholic".  It gives other women the courage to do the same thing.  There are so many women out there who are hiding it right now and will never get help because they are ashamed.  That breaks my heart.  I speak out here and wherever else I can to say, YOU ARE NOT ALONE.  To be a woman and to be a drunk is about the ugliest combination we can be when we are using.  But to be a woman in recovery, is well, beautiful.  

Sobriety is a gift that we need to be especially careful how we handle.  People are watching.  It's astounding how many men and women have come to me from reading this blog and the page and are still struggling or just getting sober or know people who are desperately trying to get it.  I don't take that lightly.  And I'm so grateful for the help you have given me and the courage to keep talking about it.  You help me stay sober. 

Men and women who walk into AA and get better are my heroes.  Period.  It means they want to fight for a good life, they do not just want to quit drinking and be miserably dry.  People who are trying to get better - trying to BE better are my heroes. If you want to write me, please do.  I am no expert on anything but jackassery, but I can try to help guide you to the right place. 

All of this is to say, YES, we are women.  YES, we are pretty, angry, sad, awkward, grungy, strong, spazzy and so vulnerable, even when we would never admit it. 

When I stopped showing how fucking strong I could be is when I finally got and stayed sober.  I could drink tomorrow and throw that all away.  But I hope I make the right choice for me and ask for help.  Strength in vulnerability.  There's a novel idea. 

*I'm not one of those people who thinks because I am a drunk that everyone is.  I'm surrounded by people in my life who drink like normal people and never have a problem.  More power to them!

Awards and Some Such Nonsense

I've been given this award TWICE now:

Once by my girl Crafty over at her raucous and beautiful blog Craftwhack, which is one of the blogs I read religiously, as in, I NEVER MISS ONE and she will tell you I comment on EVERY GD one her posts. She is funny and smart and so good at so many things.  One of my favorite things about her blog is Tutorial Tuesday, where she will most likely make you lose your shit on the train.  In a good way.  And once in a while she gives us a post so deep and thought provoking, it keeps us all coming back for more.  As you well know with me, the snark needs to be supported by the depth.  There has to be a balance.  A zen of blogging if you will.  Craftwhack gets it so right. 

And once by my girl over at Mynewfavoriteday.  Who is all at once lovely and ballsy and funny and a beautiful soul.  She writes what is in her heart and lays it out so genuinely, my snark is almost embarrassed to talk to her - ALMOST.  And yet she somehow puts up with me and let's me play with her and for that, I am grateful.  I could learn a lot from her gentle and loving nature dripping with optimism. 

These two amazing women happen to be two of my blog mentors and idols and also, just two kick ass ladies in their own way, and I'm honored they would include me in this awesomeness.  So, thank you again and many tackles and face licks are happening - close your eyes and visualize big, floppy Boxer lips all over you, and that is what I'm doing in my mind and heart to both of you.

Because I am lazy and also not very good with etiquette, it's taken me two times to finally give this back. The Versatile Blogger. Now, maybe I'm getting this wrong, because that's usually the case, but to me that means writing about a bunch of different shit. Which I might call random. And yes, I definitely qualify here. If anyone is random, tis I. So, while I have many favorite blogs, I will be sharing this award with a few that I find quite random, eh, ahem, I mean VERSATILE. There are blogs out there that focus on one theme or one subject, which is great too and I love them. But this award is not for you.  Also, THIS IS NOT A POPULARITY CONTEST. Hopefully people understand that and most of my favorite blogs are already linked here on my blog. 

I feel like this should be all fancy, like a proclamation or something.  We are watching The Tudors right now and every time the Queen enters the little guy announces her like this, "THE Queen", emphasis on THE.  Which I love and want my cats and husband to announce me that way whenever I enter a room from now on. It hasn't happened as of yet.  But it will, oh it will, MARK MY WORDS.

I'm following the rules from Craftwhack's post.  Because she's so awesome and funny and I love to say the word boobs (see why I love that Crafty so much?).

"Rules: I must show the award on my blog, tell you 5 things you may not know about me, and then pass on the award to 5 bloggers with whom I am smitten. Plus, I have to add the word ‘boobs’ in to as many sentences as I can."

So here we go! 5 things you may not know about me. You guys know all my deep dark secrets, so this is going to be tough to come up with trivial shit.

1. I was born in Dallas, Texas.  I come by this big hair and love of country music quite honestly. 
2. I was a singing server for a couple years after college.  BS in Theatre, working at a restaurant singing songs from the 1920's.  Quite fun actually. 
3. I was a figure skater for almost 10 years of my life.  Competitions and shows were my life for a long time. 
4. I became a born again Christian at 16 years old - like dunked in the river baptised, FOR REALS.  Super involved in my evangelical church. I was hardcore into the Lord and would tell you all about the good news.  (I KNOW, RIGHT?)
5. When I get super really awkward nervous, I start counting out loud, under my breath really super dedupery fast.  It helps the feeling pass. 

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Now, here are the blogs I read without fail, which are super VERSATILE (besides the two I already mentioned who gave me this award) in no particular order:

1. Reading and Chickens.  http://readingandchickens.blogspot.com/ I am completely smitten with her drawings, number one, number two, she has chickens.  And she's a bookworm who loves a good crinoline.  I mean, COME ON! She is smart and funny and I am always entertained and stimulated when I visit her blog.  She has some righteous boobs, although she will probably dismiss me for saying this, I've seen you in those dresses girl, come here. 
2. Crazy Dumbsaint of the Mind.  http://dumbsainthood.wordpress.com/.  I fell in love with this woman a while back, she is quite different from me, and yet we are so similar.  She talks a lot about breast feeding, and that makes me think about her boobs.  She is a Bonnethead, and for that reason alone, we are bonded.  She is a hippie homestyle, yet punk rock mama and I love her style and take on life. I'm also pretty sure there's an offer on the table for me to become a Sister Wife with she and her husband, so there's that too. 
3. Craughing.  http://craughing.blogspot.com/.  This lady is kicking and screaming to healthy living.  Mentally.  I just adore her and the way she looks at the world.  She is raw and gritty and has no kids, SHE AND I ARE THE ONLY ONES ON THE INTERNET THAT ARE KIDLESS.  For now.  She makes me laugh and she makes me cry.  Therefore = Craughing.  I think that there should be a term "craughy boobs" and by that I mean the heaving and the bouncing that our boobies do when we are laughing and/or crying.  As in, "OMG, she totally had the craughy boobs, and it was hard to watch, or, it was super hawt to watch!"  Anyway, she's new at this blogging thing, but I am already hooked.  Plus she has a kickass dog with his own FB page.  So there you go.  Anyone trying to get healthy has my vote. 
4. The Klonopin Chronicles.  http://theklonopinchronicles.blogspot.com/.  One of the first page people I met on Facebook. AND THEN SHE STARTED BLOGGING.  Oh my god.  She and I are so different in many ways, and yet, we have the best similarities.  She writes like a pro, she lays it out in a way we can all relate to.  She makes me want more.  She is trying to get better at life and handling things.  That is enough to suck me in.  The humor and beautiful writing will keep you going back for more.  AND, I KNOW WHAT BRA SIZE SHE WEARS.  OMG.  Boobs. She's going to kill me.
5. The Underachievers Guide to Being a Domestic Goddess.  http://underachievingdomesticgoddess.blogspot.com/.  This broad?  Has won me over.  She is so supportive and kind and funny in her comments and love for my stuff that I had to get to know hers too.  I'm so glad I did.  She is a treat!  You will love her humor and her wisdom without being pushy.  Nobody likes pushy.  I think she and I could talk for days, weeks even, about our boobs.  We've never discussed it, but I just get that feeling. 

All that being said, I always feel guilty like I wish I could list all 800 blogs I read and really love.  There will be more awards and there will be more time to share.  In the meantime, again, the blogs I love most are over there, to the right.  Go look at them. But also, you know, go look at the 7 I've listed here.  Because you know, Award Winner and all that shit.

Things I Love Thursday - Part 23

Don't say I didn't warn you.  If you are on the Facebook page, you know I am obsessed. 

This one is Dolly Parton, y'all.

Oh sure, she doesn't look like this any more, but does anyone look like they did years ago?  She will be the first person to say, hell yeah, I have work done.  She never has tried to hide any of it. 

It doesn't diminish her importance or her fabulosity.  She is still WAY over the top and cheeseball and super excited about everything, and THAT, I relate too. 

 I have stars in my eyes when I look at her.

She is an underdog.  I always root for an underdog.  A human or creature who has no right succeeding and making their way in the world.  Yes indeed.  I am IN.

She is STRONG, GRATEFUL, TALENTED, SMART, FUNNY and HONEST.  Oh yeah, and has a GREAT FUCKING RACK. 

Of course I look up to this woman.

And talk about grateful - for this? 9 to 5?  What working woman DOESN'T feel empowered by this song and movie?  This is 30 years old, and I am bopping around to it right now as I write this. 

Of course, any woman or proper gay man worth his/her salt,

knows about one of the greatest fucking movies of our time.

Thanks Krystle!

  My favorite quotes from that movie are of course Miss Truvy Quotes.  And yes, this play and screenplay were not written by Miss Dolly, but can you honestly hear them spoken by anyone else?  I can't.

This is my status last night:

"You guys know I have obsessions, right? Owls, Sister Wives, Irish Dancers, etc. The ultimate living person obsession may just be Dolly Parton. Here's why I think this, I fantasize about hanging out with her. And I know she loves church. I WOULD EVEN GO TO FUCKING CHURCH WITH HER. Ahem, everyone calm down. It's not gonna happen, but still, that's my dream. To meet Miss Dolly. And maybe even sing gospel songs with her. *runs away and hides*"

I wrote that after being in the shower and singing this song at the top of my lungs, for the 8 millionth time:

I told my husband recently that my vocal range is quite similar to Dolly's in that I can sing along with her in quite good fashion.  Meaning if we were to ever karaoke, THIS would be my song.  But I haven't karaoke'd since I got sober 10 years ago, and I'm pretty sure nobody wants to see that. 

I really don't need to explain the balls this woman has.  She came from nothing, and she gives back in a ton of different ways.  LOOK AT THAT BROAD.  Jesus God in a baby manger.  She is divine.  I can't say much more than what has been said about her already in many different ways.

Now, one bone to pick.  That "I will Always Love You" song of hers, makes me want to blow my fucking brains out.  But the rest, even the jesusy songs, I'm cool with.  That should tell you something right there. 

I revealed around Schmoliday time that I truly believed that Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton were Mr. and Mrs. Claus for a good long time when I was young, due to the charade they had going for years and I was sucked into the Hard Candy.   So in turn, I have a really fucked up view of Kenny Rogers to this day. 

I take a lot of shit for loving Dolly so much.  And that's fine.  I will go mama bear on your ass if you start talking old folks home and all that.  I respect my elders.

Especially one who pays so much money to look so cheap. 

Now, when we going to see this?

Not Trying to Get Over, Just Trying to Get Through

Fear is debilitating. 

I feel super fragile today.  Like the slightest little touch could send me spiraling into a pit of despair and self pity.  It's irrational.  It's nothing that is tangible or fixable in this moment.  All it is is a feeling.  I know what it is, and it's the feeling of taking the next step on our "get a baby" journey.  I'm scared of the unknown and afraid to have faith that whatever will be will be.   I'm by no means the first, nor the last to walk through this.  Many women, including several close friends, have been through similar experiences, and I am so grateful for their sharing. 

One of the hardest things for me since getting sober is FEELING.  Anything and everything.  Fear is the toughest.  Not only do I not get to drink it away anymore, but I don't even get to avoid it like I want to so desperately.  In accordance with working a decent 12 Step Program, I have to process the fear and walk through it. It's not pretty.  It's not easy.  It's not for the weak. 

Jesus Christ this sucks.  It's the overwhelming, gut wrenching, vomit inducing stuff that happens to people in life.  It's nothing terrible, really.  When I look back after some time and perspective, I think, that wasn't so bad.  It's being responsible and an adult, but for someone who is basically afraid of everything, something new can wreak havoc on my psyche.

It doesn't matter what the specific fear even is.  What matters is that I process it and not run away like my gut tells me to do every single time.  I cannot afford that luxury.  I cannot afford letting something eat at me and defeat me.  For me everything is at stake, meaning my sobriety.  So, I pray about it in my own unchristianlike way, and I try to let it go.  I usually have to let it go more than once.  Sometimes 849 times. A day. 

This is the stuff that I am so grateful for today.  I know that this vomitous feeling in the pit of my stomach will pass.  I know that I will be ok and that this will pass because it has in the past.  It always does.

One of my best friends in AA has this saying, "It all works out in the end.  If it hasn't worked out, it isn't the end".  Corny as shit?  Absolutely.  True?  I hope so.  I believe it is, and that's all I have, right?  What I believe and what I live is all I have.  And just for today, I choose hope over fear.  I choose sobriety over drowning my feelings.  I choose feeling vomitous for a while, rather than self medicating. 

People tell me I'm strong all the time.  And the reason I get to be strong is because I let myself feel vulnerable and weak and ask for help.  If I reach out to help someone else, it diminishes my suffering and my self pity.  You don't get one without the other.  Everyone has their kryptonite.  This is all normal, human stuff.  Emotions that people feel all the time, and walk through with grace and dignity.  I try my best to be one of those people.  10 years sober and this shit is still hard.  I think it always will be. 

FEAR is what kept me drinking for so long and with such desperation.  Today I choose not to use that. Progress not perfection. 

Things I Love Thursday - Part 22

Do you know what this picture of moi means? Well you will momentarily. Hang with me. Shhhhhhhh.

This is going to be a confession of the darkest kind on Things I Love Thursday.

I LOVE PRETTY LITTLE LIARS.

"Based on a book, Pretty Little Liars follows four best friends (Spencer, Hanna, Aria & Emily) whose clique falls apart after the disappearance of their queen bee, Alison. Three years later, estranged friends reunite when they begin receiving messages from someone using the name "A" who threatens to expose their secrets - including long-hidden ones they thought only Alison knew." Some random website. 

This opening credits thing right here.  The song?  And the make ups.  And the shhhhhhhh.

Here's mine again:

It's harder than it looks.  You fucking try it.

  and then post your shhhh photos on my wall on the IWADB Facebook Page.  M'kay? 

On the Twitter a while ago, they had everyone sending in their "shhhhhh" photos.  I took a lot.  And didn't send any.  I'm not that fucking cray cray you guys. 



This is some serious fluff.  And I love every minute of it.  It's on ABC Family for god's sakes, at like, 7pm.  I'm pretty sure I'm one of the oldest weirdo creepies watching it WITHOUT KIDS of their own to back it up. 

I was a teenager who adored 90210 and Saved by the Bell and all that cheese.


I wanted to be Donna.  For reals.  Hard.  And I was a virgin forever.  Until I wasn't.  So I RELATED TO HER.  I fucking related to Donna Martin.  How fucked up is that? 





THIS. I did this. with the bikini top and high waist jean cut offs. I DID THIS SHIT. And loved it.
And my David Silvers all had to wait for my sacred gift.



Pretty Little Liars is delicious.  I mean, it's cutey pie fashion teeny bopper girls being catty and superficial combined with texting and crazy plot twists that, wait for it, SOMETIMES I CANNOT EVEN FOLLOW.  They act way too mature for their age, but then, didn't we all try to do that?  We just didn't have books and dialogue written for us.  I begrudge their amazing fucking hair and cute little bricabrac jewelry.  
 
Look at these girls.  I can only imagine how much teenage girls, tweens and pre-teens really, just love this show.  There is a story line with suspense.  I would have loved it.  Hell I love it now. 

 

Yeah, it's airbrushed and photoshopped and blah blah unreal expectations for girls, blah blah blah.

I LOVE THIS SUPERFLUOUS SHIT.  Sometimes we just need pure fluff.  And this does it for me.  I don't do the Bachelor or the Housewives or the Kardashians.  I do this.  

 

Goddammit that is embarrassing to admit.

 

I love this show.  If you don't know it or are pretending not to know it,

I'm having Glenda here sing to you, "Come out, Come out, Wherever you are".......

So we can talk about this shit.



Journey to Quit Town

I have to keep saying, I don't need this bullshit nonsense any more.

Just the facts:

• I started smoking at age 28, when I got sober.  Because I'm an addict.  And wanted to give my full attention to booze while I was doing it.  And then gave my full attention to smoking when I did it.  I'm committed to honoring my addictions.  Been smoking 10 years.
• I pay $1.20 per pack.  I know a guy.  Money is not an issue for me quitting.
• I quit in August this year for the first time, lasted 6 weeks fully quit.  Used patches and exercise plus doing a mainly vegan diet, and it worked.  I also lost 30 pounds.  Bonus!
• I am a smart person.  We all know how bad smoking is for many reasons.  But addictions wins out over any logic or reason.  It just does.
• This is my personal struggle.  I can only tell you my experience from my perspective.  It doesn't make it right and it doesn't make it wrong.  IT IS WHAT IT IS.

The Facebook page started exactly when I quit.  So some of you remember and encouraged me back then. And I appreciate it so much.  I know I sound like a broken record here, but quitting fucking sucks and many of us need more than one attempt to do it right.  To those of you who quit successfully, I admire the hell out of you.  Seriously.  I really appreciate you all being patient and supportive with me and all the other folks out there trying to quit.  Sometimes for the 10th time. 
This is from last time right before quitting.  It still applies.  This is from right at the beginning of quitting last time.  It still applies.

Full disclosure.  I can go weekdays having one a day. But weekends and days off and social situations, I have more.  That's a slippery slope.  I use it as a crutch for sure.  It's all I have.  Besides serious social anxiety.  I got off all meds and booze and that's great,  But the smoking is the hardest by far.  It's about coping in different ways.  Replacing self destruction with healthy behaviors.  WHICH GOES AGAINST MY VERY NATURE.  If I didn't pause, and think about what I do all fucking day long, I would be self destructive 99 percent of the time.  It's where I go.  It's who I am.  But I know we can change behaviors. I know it.  I live it. 

We are starting again.  For many of us, this is a resolution.  For many, it's another attempt after many failed attempts.  For me, it's because it's overdue and we have a baby coming this year, I'm sure of it. 

It's not easy to admit failure.  It's not easy to admit addiction.  But with my history, I know it's admitting and dealing with it, through action, that makes it work. Also, I know it's doing it with others who are going through the same thing that helps. 

I feel like I know what to expect this time around,  But it doesn't make it any easier,  Quitting sucks.  Plain and simple.  But if we try to help each other, hopefully it sucks a tiny bit less.  I'm going to do my best here to help and be supportive.  And I know you'll do the same for me. 

I'm not all fucking sunshine and rainbows and puppies.  I'm simply saying, what I said before and what my Sponsor told me while I was quitting drinking. You can drink/smoke tomorrow if you really want to, just don't drink/smoke today. 

I am your humble servant in this battle.  I believe we can do this.  Do you?

Things I Love Thursday - Part 20

Today I love being able to say NO.  Not only saying it, but meaning it and standing behind it.  You people pleasers out there know exactly what I'm talking about. 

Oprahisms out there tell us about "the year of yes" and just say yes to everything.  I read a book called The Year of Yes and it's about a woman saying yes to every man that asks her out and just saying yes to the opportunities in her life.  What I'm talking about here is different than being open to new experiences.  That kind of saying yes is about overcoming fear and just diving in to new adventures.  There are so many ways I say yes.  In healthy ways.  In exciting ways.  In ways that enrich my life.  That is a whole different thing. 

No as defined by Dictionary.com:

no adverb, adjective, noun, plural noes, nos, verb

adverb
1. (a negative used to express dissent, denial, or refusal, as in response to a question or request) Example: Anyone: "Katy will you get a grip?" Me: "No."

2. (used to emphasize or introduce a negative statement): Not a single person came to the party, no, not a one. Example: Katy: "Story of my fucking life."

3. not in any degree or manner; not at all (used with a comparative): He is no better. Example: "Not one fuck was given that day." 

4. not a (used before an adjective to convey the opposite of the adjective's meaning): His recovery was no small miracle. "Example: Statistics say she had NO chance at recovery, and yet here she is 10 years fucking sober."

Let's talk about the "year of no".  Which is something I had to crash land into when I got into my halfway house for 6 months when I first got sober.  It's the first time learned about co-dependency and being a people pleaser and all that BULLSHIT.  Seems like a simple little word and yet SO MANY OF US struggle with saying no and sticking with it.  I had no idea about these silly self help terms because I sprinted away from anything that would help me do any self discovery for the first 28 years of my life.  I stuffed.  And stuffed and DRANK.  I drank every single feeling away.  And it worked for a long time.  Until it didn't.

I can capably say no today and stand behind it and for that, I am grateful.  It was my people pleasing nature that got me into so much trouble when I was younger and not confident enough in my own judgement to say no to someone.  "LOVE ME LOVE ME LOVE ME!"  I just needed people to tell me I was good and that equalled I was loved. 

Today, saying no is one of the healthiest things I can do.  It is a skill and a behavior that I had to learn and it's not easy.  My gut today still leans toward "yes, I will do whatever you want me to do so you will like me", and yet, when I pause, and take a breath and think before responding, I can do what is best.  I still fall victim to saying yes when every part of me knows I should say no.  My husband is quite good at saying no and meaning it.  And he helps me with it when I need helping. 

Such a simple little word, no.  And yet, I know many of you reading this have problems with living the principle of no.  All the bullshit jargon of self help and 12 step programs is enough to drive you batty.  Until you reach that point of going, "you know what, this shit really fucking works".  And then you practice.  Over and over and over until you can confidently say "NO!" and really mean it. 

No matter how guilty your dad tries to make you feel. 

It's the Young Jonathan and Katy Awkward Variety Show!

Here we go Divers!  Just for you an interview with Young Jonathan, my co-worker and pain in my ass.  But really just makes my days so much more fun.  I am so very awkward and bouncy and nodding like a total spaz and say "nice" 800 times.  Enjoy!

The Original Joanie Holloway



Meet my Grammie.

Let's talk about how fierce this is.  Name on desk, working woman, smokes and IN CONTROL.  Sounds like another fierce 1960's icon I know and love.

There is a reason I am so enamoured of Joanie Holloway Harris here, of Mad Men.  It is in large part that she reminds me of my Grammie.  I feel a deep dark love hate and sorrowful yearning for both these woman.  Grammie died a few years ago.  Crazed and alone, save for our little immediate family.  And yet, there was a time, when she was the Norma Desmond of her world.  And anyone who had the good fortune of entering into it. 

I am pasting some old writing I did about Grammie here.  Those portions will be indented, written by me around 2004, and I was really angry with her.  She didn't approve of me getting sober.  She just didn't understand it and gave me a hard time about it.  My perspective about her today is so different than it was almost a decade ago. 



Grammie brought a party with her everywhere she went. and we LOVED it.

I have her on my heart right now as NOBODY loved Christmas more than Grammie.  She could forget all the terrible facts of reality, largely due to her creating them, and focus on love and abundance.  Her two favorite things. 

There is no easy, understandable way to describe or understand why my Grammie is the way she is. No more than trying to explain why I am or why you are the way you are, however, the impact of her behavior on the people she loves, well, the only people left in her life after a lifetime of loving and pushing away are my immediate family. She was married and divorced four times, twice to the same man, my grandfather, my dad’s dad.

I come from fucking gorgeous yet totally screwed up, alcoholic, Irish Catholic stock.  Only my dad didn't drink.  Went right to me.  I'm grateful I'm the first to get recovery in my family.

My Grammie was as selfish as they come, some of which I know I have in me. She should never have had a child because she was a lonely lost child herself and never could care ultimately about anyone but herself. The reason she would make a “friend” or a lover was strictly about what she could get from them for herself. She was gorgeous, have I mentioned that?

 

Let's talk about this waist, please.



An absolute beauty – movie star quality - some said Elizabeth Taylor-esque - and men flocked to her. She loved it - loved the attention and the devotion. She grew to expect that devotion and attention from every person in her life. Especially her son. But she left him when he was a small child to move and pursue her own interests. She left him with various relatives and abusive men who hoped to be in her favor. My dad was the only child she ever had and she really wanted him to be a girl. She used to curl his hair and put blush on his cheeks. Although he made a pretty girl, he made an even more handsome boy and grew up relatively unaffected by his unusual childhood.



My dad and Grammie. Totally posed. Wonder where I get it from?

Grammie, for a period of time, lived by herself in a condo on Lakeshore Drive in Chicago.  The Pink Building.  You know it.  And she was a manicurist to the stars, including Frank Sinatra.  Who, let's just say was charmed by her and vice versa.  All while she had a child in the world, who was passed along to relatives to take care of while she lived the high life.  She wanted a son only when it was convenient for her and when it served her purposes.

Grammie and my dad, later on in life, she had to pose as if she was looking at him in every photo. My dad HATED that.



Grammie and baby Katy. She finally got her baby girl. Also, she tried to give me her menagerie of furs through the years. She didn't approve of me being a vegetarian.





Grammie dressed up as a nurse the day my little brother was coming home from being born. She loved making a production out of things. Look how geeked out excited I am about all this.

I don’t know if she ever truly loved, but boy did she lose. She pushed so hard and asked for so much that everyone she had eventually left her. Now she is alone and only my dad and mom go and visit her. 

That was again, in 2003 or 2004.  She was living in a nursing home close to my parents, and was completely out of her mind.  She was ALWAYS delusional.  From the time I remember as a child she brought fun and fantasy and luxury with her.  When Grammie came to visit, it was always a good time.  She and I would go shopping and to lunch and do our nails and she would encourage me to wear make up and dress up at all times.  AT ALL TIMES.  And if I didn't look up to snuff she made sure she let me know.  I can only imagine the hell my dad went through with that superficial bullshit as a child. 

She lost everything. Most of all her beauty and this is what I understand. That is where all this sadness and loss of control for her begins. She lost her beauty, which means she lost the adoration of thousands and then she slowly lost her own money trying to hold on to it and get it all back. Now she is just lonely and sad and mean. She doesn’t want me to succeed and be happy because she is not.

Do I fear losing my looks? You bet I do. I don’t underestimate for one minute how much the way I look has helped me in my life. I know I am smart and capable and all of that other crap, but I am beautiful and in this world of ours, that is what really matters. You may think me superficial, but it is a tool, just like money that can be used to get what I want and she knows this. She knows (or thinks she does) that once I lose my beauty I will have nothing just like her. But that is where she is wrong. I do have more than her because I take the time to invest in myself and in other people. I don’t make friends because of what I can get from them.

Since I have been sober, I have learned the hard way that friends and family are the most important and enduring relationships I have and without them, I have nothing. I don’t have to be beautiful on the outside to be fulfilled on the inside. Does it help? Sure, am I going to fade quietly into non-prettiness? No way, I like being pretty. It is fun and it is what came naturally to me. I don’t abuse as I used to though. And it is not all I have.

I hate my Grammie. As much as I feel that hatred for her I feel love and sadness and understanding for her more than anyone else could imagine. The reason for this is that she and I are so much alike. Or we used to be. Our relationship has changed forever since I got sober and learned how important people’s insides are. She never learned that lesson and now, I don’t think she ever will. She used to love being with me because we were two gorgeous ladies against the world. We could both wield our feminine wiles and the men would flock. Well, I don’t work like that anymore and she doesn’t like it one bit.


One of our last pictures together.



I don’t hate my Grammie. I hope that before she dies she finds some kind of peace and gratitude for what she has had in her life and not to just keep asking for more, more, more. Sometimes there just isn’t any more and we just need to be grateful for what we have.

She’s going to be a selfish bitch until her dying day, but at least I understand why she is that selfish bitch. I’ve learned a whole lot about young beauty and how that inevitably fades. What we are left with is what we have inside and those we have surrounded ourselves with. What a lesson you have taught me Grammie, I don’t want to go out like you. Alone and lonely because of pushing people away. Thank you for showing me that.

Interesting how perspective changes after years go by. Now, I really only remember the good stuff. The fun Grammie stuff and not the abusive way she talked to my dad and then to me. I am not mortified as I used to be when she got arrested when I was just 16 and we were at a shoe store and I had to call my dad to bail her out for shoplifting.
I feel so much compassion for her today. She was so lonely and filled with longing. Talk about a hole in the soul. She depended on men and their attention for EVERYTHING. She relied on sex appeal and charm for everything, much like our girl Joanie Holloway. They were both so much better than that. Partly due to the times, and partly due to low self esteem, these women relied on men for everything.

If Grammie only knew how valuable she was in teaching me these great lessons, completely different lessons than she meant to teach me, she would probably be horrified and say, "no no no, that's not what I meant!". I watched and I learned Grammie. I learned what not to do and what to do as a smart and capable woman. You taught me to love and appreciate luxury and beauty. And I miss you right now at Christmas. Terribly, actually.

Things I Love Thursday - Part 19

Knowing I will not make a complete ass out of myself during the holidays.  Well at least not from drinking.  You see, I was that girl.  The drunk girl who fell into the Christmas tree at the Holiday Party.

TWICE.

You know who doesn't like approve of this nonsense? 

Two years in a row.  Two different companies.  Two different crowds of co-workers thinking it was funny, and others thinking it was profoundly sad and pathetic. 

While I can laugh my ass off at this today, when it was happening it was terrifying.  I knew I was out of control.  I knew I couldn't stop drinking and yet I didn't know what to do about it.  I mean, I had to drink, right?  I drank all the time.  Around the clock.  I was constantly drunk.  The only varying factor was how drunk I was.  Was I shaking and needed more or was I in that sweet spot of feeling OK without being too out of control and did I remember what happened the next day.  I didn't get hangovers because I drank all the time.  See what I'm saying here?  What else was there?  What would my life look like without alcohol?

And so, on this Thursday pre-Schmolidays, I LOVE LOVE LOVE that I am sober today and don't dread what will happen.  I love that I will be incredibly awkward and probably spend the whole time wanting to get out of there because that is what I do, but there will be some part of me that will just be saying THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU that I am sober for this. 

No horror shows, no blackouts and having to piece together what happened and who I talked to about god knows what, and best of all, no regrets. NO REGRETS.  About anything.  If I make a fool of myself, I live through it and it's OK.  If I say something stupid, I know it and can deal with it and even apologize if necessary.  These things seem like they should be common knowledge for most people, but I never had the luxury of these every day gifts until I got sober.  Where I work now, they all know I'm a drunk.  I don't hide it from anyone.  I don't scream it out, but it comes up.  And, they have never seen me drunk.  I would like to keep it that way. 

Don't get me wrong, I can fall into a tree today stone cold sober and wearing flats.  I mean just yesterday I felt off balance because I had gloves on for the first time this season.  I got balance issues y'all.

So, let's all act as if when I do happen to fall into the tree this year, I totally planned it that way.  I have a reputation to uphold.

Schmolidays* are for BonnetHeads**

It's that time.  The time when holidays are crammed into our brains and our faces and our noses and our mouth holes.  It's the Schmolidays.

Like just about everyone these days, I have a love-hate relationship with the Schmolidays.

I love that in Chicago, really the ONLY place to celebrate, it's cold and snowy and beautifully lit.







I love that I am in a loving relationship these days and don't feel lonely or sad or missing out as I used to during this time.

I love that I don't have to go to church anymore.  It's true.  What can I say, my inner heathen has won against the rest of my family's Christian traditional ways of churching on xmas eve.  I am grateful I no longer have to endure that hell.  Partly because my family finally accepts - and quite lovingly stopped harassing me about it - that I'm not a christian anymore (dunked in the river newly baptised at 16!) and also because they moved to Arizona.  They do a good job of loving me for who I am and not pushing me, TODAY.  Obviously, they have been through a lot with me and probably figure as long as I'm sober they aren't going to push it.  My mom used to tell me "I can't stand to think of being in Heaven without you."  To which I replied, "well you will manage somehow and why don't we try to get the most of our time here instead or worrying about some unknown resting place".  My eternal soul will take it's chances living a good and loving life here on earth one day at a time.  I'm not going to rail on my family or Christianity.  I respect my family too much for that. 

So, in light of Jesus being the "reason for the season", I am conflicted.  I celebrate the traditions of this holiday and yet, what is it's meaning for me, really?  I don't celebrate the birth of a baby savior.   What I do know is that it isn't about spending money and material things.  But that is how I live my life anyway.  I love freshly baked cookies and black coffee and kickin' holiday music along with the nostalgic holiday specials we watch year after year.  I love the twinkling lights and the roaring fires and the glorious smell of pine.  I do. 

So how to reconcile that with not believing in the whole basis of this holiday?  As with many things these days, I've stopped fighting it.  I don't have to stand up against Christmas.  It's not my job to declare how I feel about it.  Even though that is exactly what I'm doing in this post, but you get the idea.  I try my damnedest to live and let live.  I celebrate the love and stay away from the dark as best I can.  It's part of how I live the 12 steps. 

The whole debate of Happy Christmas vs. Happy Holidays exhausts me.  Believe whatever you want to.  Just don't expect that I won't do the same.  I want to have a happy holiday.  I want you to have a happy holiday.  I am doing my best not to set foot in an actual store and deal with you.  These seem like opposite notions.  The holidays tend to be when the media tells us to love each other more.  And yet, so much of this season is just gross and ugly. 

This won't shock you.  I want the Plum Creek Christmas.  So badly.  Simple and loving and beautiful.  The Ingalls were so grateful for everything they had and any shitty present they received because they didn't know any better.  I want that gratitude.  I want that pure joy.  I know it's a bygone time and all, but it's what I aspire too.  I even don't mind their stupid little church and stupid little bible stories.  Because it was a simple, non-combative and non-electric-guitar-laser-light-show time of churchiness.

Enjoy this Plum Creek Christmas.  Pa and Ma are waiting for you by the fire with some coffee and pie.  Oleson's Mercantile is open for new stoves  - just don't tell Ma.

these are my definitions, not legal and binding.
*Schmolidays - snarky term for holidays
**BonnetHeads - big geeky fans of bonnets, LHOTP and prairie simpler times.  you remember this one, right? Bring Back the Bonnet!