Confessions: On Managing

Here goes. A year ago today, I was fired. For insubordination. I had been told not to do something and I did it, knowing I could get in a lot of trouble. 

Shonuff, I got in trouble. 

After confirming the first fireable offense, the firing squad brought up that it had also been reported I had a beer with a colleague on property. My mind immediately went to blame. A victims’ mentality set in. And then really—panic set in. 

I knew, in my office, in a cabinet was a bottle of gin. A nice bottle given to me by my last GM. Not an everyday occurrence but a fall back plan for when I couldn’t manage. 

I didn’t manage.

Fuck. I’m fucked. 

HR followed me to my office.I hurried in to put the bottle in my bag. I started to pack up my stuff. She looked almost apologetic as she watched me. 

I was humiliated? Relieved?

I was shocked and not surprised. 

Confessions.

I was suspended in 6th grade for bringing wine to school. In my early 30s, I spent a night in jail after my friend’s wedding for driving under the influence. Most recently, I my car was impounded due to a revoked license (unrelated) but behaviors/substances that would have landed some of my friends in jail— I left with a warning, a ticket or two — but without my car.

Just before they towed my car away, I asked if I could grab something from the backseat: a bottle of rose I was bringing to my two year old godsons birthday party.

I missed his birthday.

And then victimhood sets in— boohoo me, calls for rescues, tears of shame, nausea from getting caught. On the Metro north train, —in the middle of the day, I slugged warmish wine out of the bottle to wash the tears away. 

I know this isn’t an AA meeting and really, this is just for me and my relationship with God, my higher-self, my acceptance and forgiveness… but it is also for anyone who might relate or is waiting to change the page in their own life story. Turn the page.

All of those events could have, should have led to sobriety. 

And I was sober adjacent, sober-curious at times. Lessening my intake and minimizing my driving. 

But here’s the thing— I didn’t stop. 

And my last two years of New York, I was managing. And I was drinking at every chance. 

Something had to give. 

Coming back “Home” to where I was born my whole life… to where it all began and to where I would uncover and discover things; memories I had buried in little pockets of my childhood but kept the trauma right at the surface… just itching to be scratched.

Instead, I drank. 

The truth is… I am an addict. Mostly booze/alcohol. But long periods of daily marijuana use. Cigarettes off and on since I was 15/16… yuck. And the day I got fired, I poured the bottle of gin out in the gutter my street. And I shuttered with Shame, grief, humiliation, devastation, confusion, relief, anger, clarity, embarrassed but I felt free. 

And I started counting days, sometimes hours, mostly weeks. Weeks turned into months.  A year.

364 days. 52 weeks. 12 months.

Suggestions:

Choose to notice when you want/ would have a drink. Take note. Make a different choice. Witness the felt sense. Connect to Center. Love. Integral Healing. Craft. Design. Implement strategies. Adapt when shit gets weird. Acknowledge feeling. Disconnect when necessary. Integrate Love.

Yeeee

Happy almost anniversary to me!