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DAY 275:
i am nine months sober today.
i had a visceral, painful relapse dream last night. i was visiting box seats that some high school folks were partying in, and, to “be of service”, i refilled their drinks. but then i “accidentally” took a sip. and as soon as i sipped it, i flipped my shit: i didn’t mean to do that— it wasn’t on purpose. do i have to start over? does this count?
i felt the heart burn, the rush of that first sip and the alcohol hitting my system, and the considerable urge to purge the poison.
so, all of this is to say: even in my dreams, i want sobriety. i still don’t want to drink. and if i did, at this point: it would be a really sad thing.
i’ve been thinking about change.
and how, often, we say that people don’t change.
but i don’t think that’s true. i think people change, but only when it’s on their terms. when they do it for themselves. i don’t think you can change others— i couldn’t convince my anti-natalist boyfriend to want babies. true change is inspired by moments of clarity, or a deep desire to do something different for yourself— not others.
shit has to get real bad before it gets better.
because fuck, man: shit got real bad. but now, i’m better.
i didn’t consciously chose change. i felt sobriety was in my future eventually, but i didn’t think that i’d spend the last year of my twenties ending an engagement, moving home, and getting sober. how unsexy is that? turns out tho, not chugging poison made me sexier— and i stand by that.
i also believe that my sobriety is a byproduct of divine intervention. i am lucky that my moment of clarity came from the most desperate moment of my life, and that i woke up from darkness.
here i am: 9 months later.
i gestated and gave birth to a baby, and that baby is me.
He put it on me, I put it on,
Like there was nothing wrong
It didn't fit,
It wasn't right
Wasn't just the size
They say you know,
When you know
I don't know-Katy Perry, “Not Like The Movies”
there’s something happening in my real life that — for the first time— i don’t feel the compulsion to confess to the public. of course ~*~you’re only as sick as your secrets~*~ but this is not a secret. maybe it is to you, but to the people closest to me (and my sponsor), it is not.
obviously, the impulse to keep something close to my heart is antithetical to who i’ve been AND to my writing practice. but the instinct to contain the experience nods to how different this experience has been.
the only word i have for it is: certainty.
and one of the main reasons i have faith in it is because
i know what it’s not supposed to feel like— when i got engaged, i felt blind terror and dread, then thought about death for seven months.
synchronicity has been guiding us every step of the way.
noticing moments of synchronicity helps me know that the universe is sending me *~magic~* because i am ready and open to it.
SYNCHRONICITY
the concept of synchronicity was first introduced by the analytical psychologist Carl G. Jung "to describe circumstances that appear meaningfully related yet lack a causal connection."
Julia Cameron discusses synchronicity in the Artist’s Way, saying that when you’re living in your life’s purpose— when you are pursuing the Artist’s Way— synchronicity will occur, and to watch out for it. it can occur as coincidences or events or signs that point to a larger intelligent universe working in your favor. you can say you want to learn how to sew, then go to a thrift store and find a brand new sewing machine. you have always wanted to dance, but you’re scared. you go to a dinner party, and you meet a kind dance teacher who teaches Intro To Jazz. it’s as simple as thinking of someone, and them calling you later that day.
synchronicity, serendipity, GOD— whatever you call it: things just line up, when you’re living in your purpose.
here’s a more concrete example:
my Artist’s Way student Kelly was struggling with her God concept in her morning pages. she was able to take herself on artist’s dates— make time to tend to her own little creative spirit and pursue fun for fun’s sake— but she didn’t know how to pursue or parse her relationship with her higher power.
i don’t think you need to believe in GOD as in Man In The Sky With A White Beard to believe in god. ultimately, all that Julia asks is that you imagine something greater than yourself that works in your favor, if you let it.
and so, before going on her artist’s date walk, Kelly wrote in her morning pages:
“It’s okay to ask the Creator with help. Creator, can you help me? I am asking you for a sign.”
it was a Sunday. she is not religious, but having been raised Catholic, she struggles with saying the word God: “I don’t have problems with spirit, universe, creator— so I was wrestling with this a couple weeks into the course.”
and on her walk, she saw:
but the signs didn’t stop there.
the next day, while on a walk, she was asking Creator for an ideal romantic relationship.
with someone specific in mind, she asked God: is this worth pursuing?
she told me, “I went for my walk and found a rose. A red one, on my path, as I was asking creator for an ideal romantic relationship. A good sign?”
a good sign, indeed.
she continued: “I used to think it was selfish, or self-centered, or the creator wouldn’t help me with small things. If it wasn’t for the very purest reasons, it wasn’t right to ask. But i’m trying to do the work to ask for help.”
time continued to unfold, she continued to see her romantic interest in passing— only as they worse masks. he gave her clay, and his phone number. they texted, but no movement until finally she thought to herself, “he can’t seem to get the courage ask me— what’s the worst thing that happens?” so, she gained the courage to ask him to go to a local art museum with her. he’s a potter, and they saw an exhibit about plates. each plate was hand painted with the last meal prisoners had before execution.
gruesome, totally. but for two artists? a dream. they finally saw each other without masks, and were absolutely giddy.
before taking the Artist’s Way Course, she didn’t think of herself as an artist. but having just completed Artist’s Way when she was was on this date, she did.
after their museum date, they went on their first official date. he brought got her a bouquet of flowers: 6 roses, identical to the rose she found on her walk.
in addition to a handmade leather stemless rose.
SYNCHRONICITY? i think yes.
she told me: “i wasn’t looking for this guy, he wasn’t looking for me. it’s unfolding slowly.”
she told me that they continue to inspire each other, constantly.
when starting the Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron asks the reader to “Jump, and the net will appear.” and that’s kind of what sobriety has been like too.
i only do this shit one day at a time, but i know that i am working towards something i cannot even begin to imagine. and now, here i am, nine months sober: brighter than i could ever conceive.
that being said, this bitch loves a sign. i am always looking for confirmation from the universe.
you’ll hear me shout “ ELEVEN, ELEVEN! MAKE A WISH” in a quiet room. when i am in flow with the universe, i see “777” and “444” everywhere. i believe that seeing lizards is my grandfather visiting me, that dreams can be visitations/ premonitions or warnings, and that when you’re in flow with your soul’s purpose, you’ll see things like the god sign and say, “Yeah, this is it.”
If it's not like the movies,
That's how it should be, yeah
When he's the one,
I'll come undone,
And my world will stop spinning
And that's just the beginning-Katy Perry, “Not Like The Movies”
Montana: back on the lake
because i had gotten to the wedding so late, i decided to delay my flight a day— the idea of going to an airport less than 24 hours after landing made me want to dry-heave. i’d rather take a hot sauce shot to the eyeball than go to the airport that Sunday.
lucky for me, i got to spend that day on a lake in Montana.
this wouldn’t have happened had things gone according to plan: i was supposed to land Friday night, leave Sunday morning. back for work Monday.
i woke up the day after the wedding, thumping-ly alive. well rested, sober, and psyched to spend the day on the water and in the sun. i had been working a fuck-ton all summer in the concrete jungle, and i reveled in the opportunity to just be.
we got to the lake and saw the wedding party, some family friends, and some extended family we didn’t know. i, of course, bopped around and talked to everybody. when i was a baby, i would walk down the aisle of every airplane i stepped on, saying, “HELLO” to every single passenger. in sobriety, i am very much that baby on a plane.
there were two boats that were being taken out, and i got to sit on one of them with my family and look out at endless trees and inhale fresh, smog-free air. there were Doritos and seven-layer-bean-dip and grocery store sliced fruit and tons of seltzers and sprites and beers— i kept a non-alcoholic beverage in my hand the whole day. i re-applied sunscreen religiously. and i talked to anyone with a mouth because i was just happy to be alive. and fuck it, who knows who you might meet?
the night before at the wedding, i had scanned the venue to decide who was the hottest person present, as i do everywhere all the time. i noted two. but i was not strongly motivated to do anything about it. the thought of touching lips to a drunk person repulsed me— wasn’t there for that. when my cousin threw her bouquet, i bellowed, ‘NOT ME. NOT READY’ as some broad with a boyfriend caught it and squealed, his buddies thumping the unprepared dude on his back.
but the truth is, i AM always looking for somebody to have a crush on. however, considering that i had broken up with AA boyfriend #2 the Monday before, i wasn’t trying to get tangled in anything in Montana.
but i had definitely noticed him before i met him— cutie #1.
nearing the end of the day on the lake, someone brought a puppy to the water. i had taken to sitting on the empty boat, because it was shady and there was a very comfortable captain’s chair and i’d exhausted all mouths present. but once i spotted the puppy, i needed to know more.
there were three people sitting on a massive green floaty— the last three people i had not talked to yet (hello, baby on an airplane). a couple and cutie #1. i had noticed them prior, but they definitely were keeping to themselves.
i asked, “Do you guys know what the puppy’s deal is?”
and they said something i can’t remember, and i said, “Alright, thanks… but also, y’all seem cool. I’m coming back.”
and so i pet the wet puppy and my hands smelled like dog. and when i went back to chat, cutie #1 sat on the far end of the three-seater floaty. i said hey, jumped off the dock and landed in the farthest seat from him. i don’t know how i jumped so gracefully, i don’t know how i slid in just so. but i did. and just as i did that, cutie #1 got up to leave.
and i was …bummed.
i didn’t want the bouquet. i didn’t want anything, really. but this guy clearly didn’t want to talk to me— and that bruised my ego. who wouldn’t want to talk to me?! (answer: a lot of people)
just as i was making peace with the fact that he was leaving, he turned back and asked: “Do you want something to drink?”
my stomach clenched, and i replied: “I’ll take anything non-alcoholic.”
suddenly, i wasn’t so bummed anymore.
he came back to the floaty and handed me a cream soda— which, just so happens to be the soda i pined over in middle school. last one i had was pre-eating disorder. haven’t had one since. but, if you put a gun to my head and asked me what my favorite soda is, cream soda is definitely my favorite soda.
so i was all: “Holy shit, this is my favorite soda. I mean, I haven’t had it since I was twelve, but when I’m honest with myself, it’s my favorite.”
and he was all, “Yeah, I knew it was a gamble. But I figured I’d go for it.”
and i said something like, “Bold choice. I like it.”
he crawled into the floaty, and we started talking. he was wearing a camo print rash guard, but he had a septum piercing. i wasn’t quite sure what his vibe was— i didn’t know who i was talking to.
his twelve-year old cousin jumped into the middle seat of the floaty, and started splashing him in the face. he took it for a little while, until finally, he said, “Ah! I don’t like that, the splashing in my ear. Please stop.” and i thought to myself: …not… anti-natalist???
eventually, the twelve-year old cousin stopped splashing, i said something about boundaries and how they should be respected because lol i wrote a book about that. all the kids continued to swarm him. he revealed that he is a medical assistant/abortion provider at Planned Parenthood. i was all HUH. INTERESTING. everything he said, as i took sips of my cold cream soda, piqued my interest. with each admission, he got more interesting.
as i told LeeAnn Kreischer on WoTP: Red flags don’t turn pink.
but no red flags were waving in my face. there was nothing to break out the bleach for. everything he said strengthened my interest, and facilitated a deeper connection. i was blown away by the ease of our conversation, our connection.
so i said, “WHAT THE FUCK. WHY DIDN’T WE TALK SOONER?! WE COULD HAVE BEEN HANGING OUT THIS WHOLE TIME!!” i’d been the baby on the airplane, saying hi to everyone. but when it came down to it, he was the first and only one i actually wanted to talk to.
as we were sitting there, an orange lady bug landed on top of my left hand. i was like, WOAH! and then, right next to the lady bug, two dragonflies stacked on top of each other landed, and i was all:
WOAH
WHAT THE FUCK
and as someone who is constantly thinking lizards are visitations from my dead grandfather and that when i see the number 444 it’s my dead grandmother telling me i am protected— i did not want to see the significance of the fact that a lady bug and two dragonflies were stuck to my left hand.
i tried to shake them off, honest to god i did. and as soon as i addressed them, really called attention to them, they flew away.
do i really believe that a lady bug and two dragonflies are a sign? at first, i didn’t want to. just thought it was a weird occurrence.
but now, after talking to him every day since the day we met, i’m confident that: ya, it was a sign.
synchronicity, when it comes to cutie #1, keeps happening. the cream soda, the bugs— the more things things i learn about him, the more aligned i find we are.
i was not meant to be on that lake that day. i was supposed to be on a plane, headed back to New York. instead, i met a cutie #1.
i don’t feel the usual compulsion, asking everyone “what do you think this means?” because something doesn’t fit. but with him, there are no questions. only certainty. everything is easy, natural.
BUT, LET ME CLEAR: NO RELATIONSHIPS IN THE FIRST YEAR.
he’s not my boyfriend but he might be my husband.
SO. I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS BUT IT FEELS GOOD.
THESE, MY FRIENDS, ARE THE MIRACLE OF SOBRIETY.
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i love you.
XOXO,
PAULINA
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