BE SURE TO WEAR SOME FLOWERS IN YOUR HAIR...

Hub and I were in San Francisco last week for a short Autumn getaway before the holidays and Hub's snowboard season consume us for several months.  Let me just say, I didn't leave my heart in San Francisco, but neither did I lose my mind...and that's progress.

I do not have a good relationship with the City by the Bay. My first trip there was in the early 70's and even though I dressed like a hippie, I was mostly a midwestern, blue-collar, conservative-town girl in the early throes of discovering that I was not like most of the people in my hometown (or my family), but I wasn't all the way to "peace, love, and protests" either.  I still trusted a few people over 30.  I also dealt with undiagnosed anxiety disorder, that we denigratingly referred to as "She's freaking out." On that trip I did have a bit of a "freak out". S.F. seemed overwhelming, a bit chaotic, and super scary. This is hard to admit at this stage, but was nevertheless true for me then, an innocent from Illinois. I did not like it.

We went again some years later when a friend of ours had moved to Big Sur. We drove down from our new home in the Pacific Northwest, to visit her and again I felt off-kilter and like the whole trip took place within a funhouse mirror. I recall a very weird, disheveled, nearly Zombie-looking guy jumping out in front of our car on a dark rainy street. I screamed. We didn't hit him, but sheesh. And then something about almost driving into the ocean? Whatever. I just wanted to go home.

Another time I have a vague recollection of staying at the Four Seasons and watching older Asian folks doing Tai Chi in the nearby park while Hub was attending a medical conference.  Why don't I recall anything else about that trip?  It's like my brain shuts down in S.F.

Many years later we went to a Giants game and maybe some other stuff with our young sons...I frankly don't recall much about that either other than it being a one-day visit tagged onto a different longer vacation.

And this time....well, it took me 24 hours to feel comfortable being there. First, I had taken a Dramamine before the flight which was dumb since I didn't need it and didn't realize it was only a 90 minute flight. I take it to ward off anxiety about claustrophobia/nausea/vomiting I'm convinced will befall me on flights. It's my insurance policy, but Hub was a little annoyed with me and suggested that one pukey flight almost 40 years ago really doesn't necessitate drugging myself forever, every time I fly because when I do it makes me sleepy and spacey and is also the antithesis of what I profess to be about -- see the last post in this blog. His words were a wake-up call to me to see I was using drugs in a way I don't like, so I'm going to go Cold Turkey on my next flight. But this time the deed was done and I was trying to stay awake to my surroundings the first afternoon we were there. We ended up in the heart of the Fisherman's Wharf in the most touristy area, Pier 39, which was loud, crowded, chaotic, and carnival-like. Ugh. I just wanted to go home.

The next day, though, I realized I was fighting old S.F. demons and decided to stop. This was not then.  This was now. I sat down on a bench in a quiet park, closed my eyes and told myself a new story. I was going to have fun on this trip as the grown-ass woman I am now, with decades of self-knowledge and a toolbox full of tools I could use to deal with old wounds and anxiety-fueled fantasies. Walk my talk. So from then on it was a goodish trip.

We did all the touristy things. Went back to the Wharf, walked to Coit Tower (took the Filbert Steps -- 450 of them!), walked up and down the stairs skirting curvy Lombard Street, ate Cannoli in Little Italy, explored Golden Gate Park and the S.F. Botanical Gardens, climbed the Secret Garden mosaic stairway, walked along the beach out to the end of the Municipal Pier, over Ft. Mason to the marina and Marina Green, took a ferry to Sausalito for lunch, passing close by the hulking and foreboding Alcatraz, which frankly gives me the creeps and maybe that's the bad ju-ju I feel in S.F. since you can see it from all the sites, went to Haight-Ashbury (no flowers in the hair of homeless folks living on the streets there), had a hot fudge sundae at Ghirardelli's, discovered a fabulous little coffee shop where I had the best ice cream Affagato ever, rode a cable car, and rode city buses -- always a half scary, half entertaining enterprise in any big city -- when we weren't walking, walking, walking.

It was all just....fine. Hub seemed annoyed with my slow start and my lack of enthusiasm for S.F. as cities go. (Take me to NYC!!!) We were both frustrated with "wasting" the Sausalito day since that little burg looked nothing like it did in the 70's and we found it to be uninteresting with not much to see or do, plus it was 85 degrees and little shade to be found. Even Hub admitted to being a bit cranky and out of sorts that day.  

We usually travel so well together... I guess some distance will help us appreciate the trip more because we also shared experiences in S.F. that in the re-telling to our son the other day seemed fun and funny and good. 

But, once again, I'm not back home feeling like S.F. is my "place" and that's weird because nearly every other person I know absolutely loves it. It's just that every time I'm there, something is "off" for me mentally and emotionally. This time I thought it initially was my Dramamine-induced stupor, but the friction with Hub was the thing that makes me saddest, which seemed not of either of our making, but rather some dissonant vibe that surrounded us.

Hub says he wants to go back, explore more, and maybe get outside the city (revisit Muir Woods, Marin County, Mt. Tamalpais, Bolinas) and I guess I do too. It's become a bit of a challenge for me now. I ended up feeling way more comfortable there this time in spite of the occasional weirdness. Maybe one day the place really will steal my heart.

At least, that's the view from here..©

SOBER: FEELING THE FEELINGS

 I said to Hub during one of our marathon introspective conversations the other day, "I'm happy to be me."  

WTH?  I could hardly believe those words came from my lips.  I can be incredibly NOT happy to be me.  I tend to default to negativity and take long, sad dives into all my shortcomings.  "Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, (think I'll go eat worms)" is often my view of myself and my lot in life.   But something is shifting.  Something quiet, but big.  I've said my Covid year (plus) has been one of great insight, some inner struggle, much grief, slow awakening, and lately, dare I say, joy?  OK.  Joy is still a big concept for me, but contentment, growing equanimity, some semblance of acceptance seems to be accurate.

I celebrated ten years of sobriety at the end of July.  I had my last glass of Chardonnay on July 30, 2011 after a health scare that my doc assured me had nothing to do with drinking alcohol.  But what did she know?  Was her name on the Web MD article?  Did she treat all the people on the "chat space"  I visited who told their own tales of a similar situation and recommended eschewing alcohol?  No.  So I decided I would quit drinking.  And I did.

I discovered that it was easy physically, so I must not have had a physical addiction to alcohol, even though I was a daily user.  ("Is it 5:00 yet?!?")  It wasn't even that hard emotionally/psychologically because the fear of exacerbating the health issue far outweighed the desire for a glass of wine.  Still...there were many times that I could have caved.  

It's hard to be a non-drinker in a drinking culture. People were confused.  I felt left out of the many, many discussions of the finer bouquets of various wines and the apparently vast differences in IPAs.  I stopped being invited to Margarita Mondays. But every day without alcohol became another day I added to my sobriety chain and I didn't want to mess that up.  And before long, I didn't even think about it or want it and in fact started to find the whole drinking thing silly and unnecessary in general.  And I looked back at times I'd drunk too much and felt ashamed of my behavior.  I think I definitely had a problem with alcohol and am grateful that quitting was relatively easy.

I started to wonder more often what other people saw in it. I didn't find drunk stories funny anymore.  Or "high" stories either.  In my age group there is still much giggling about using marjiuana even though there are legal pot shops on nearly every corner now.  I'm told it helps with pain. I get that it does have pain-relieving properties and I also know that for some pain is an excuse to get high or at least a sought after side benefit.  I've been told it helps relaxation, helps relieve stress, helps one see the world anew in a deeper way.  OK.  But I still wonder why altering one's consciousness with any substance is a thing sought after, when life is a path difficult enough and interesting enough to be best traveled with full faculties intact, it seems to me.  (Plus, people, when you are drunk or high you are not funny or clever or cute...Yeah, I know, I thought I was too.  I was wrong.)

Anyway, what is coming at me over and over and over in my personal growth path are messages of sobriety.  My work with neuro-plasticity, with yoga, with Buddhist teaching all point out that the "addiction" to feeling good is a denial of life as it is.  My yoga mentor and my therapist have both told me that being with the 'Is-ness' of life and feeling it fully in the body is the way forward from emotional and psychological pain.  

Stressed?  FEEL IT!  Consider how life is organized that causes the stress.  Can it be changed?  Is there a different way to find peace?

Sad?  FEEL IT!  Consider self-compassion and the normalcy of feeling sad when grief arises for whatever reason.  Cry if ya gotta.  

Angry/Frustrated?  FEEL IT! What lies beneath the anger and how can you reframe, find compassion, let go?  Pound a pillow if ya wanna.

Afraid?  FEEL IT! And consider if the wolf is really at the door or is it just ruminating thoughts of 'what if' that keep the fear present.  Breathe and rest the "flight/fight/freeze" response with long exhales.

Physical pain? FEEL IT! How bad is it?  How big is it?  Can you shift attention away from it? Can it be relieved through means other than self-medication?   

Happy?  FEEL IT!  Fully take in the joyfulness, the love, the gratitude, the excitement of the moment.  Take in the sights, sounds, faces, and beauty that are filling you with happiness.

I think back on my drinking days and see how I covered all those emotions with a desire to escape them on some level, or enhance them on another, rather than fully feel them and DO SOMETHING about them, with my mind clear.  I did not want to truly sit in the place of discomfort, did not realize that all emotions are temporary.  They come and go like waves.  More substances won't keep the bad times at bay, nor keep the good times rolling.  All will end eventually, ebbing and flowing.  Reaching for a "feel good" reprieve won't change that; it'll just reinforce the reaching.

I'm happy to be me because I more deeply know myself every day, more deeply accept myself, more assuredly set boundaries and find more peace within myself.  AND last week I still had a bout of "poor me" that put me in a state of tears and self-loathing.  But a conversation with Hub (who reminded me to be more fully me when I lost my way for a bit), helped me find relief after an hour -- not weeks, months, or years.  I found my way back because of the clarity I've learned to appreciate and use to my advantage, not clouded by a false sense of "OK-ness" that is artificial.

I'll end with the happiest moment of my summer -- maybe of the past year or more.  On the 10th anniversary of my no alcohol decision, Hub organized a surprise alcohol-free Family Brunch.  My sons and their families brought me gifts to mark the occasion -- fixings for fancy mocktails, hot chocolate mix, organic tea, flavored sodas.  It was so thoughtful of Hub and the kids.  I loved the recognition and inclusion, since so many of our gatherings seem to involve trying new wines and craft beers.  In fact it's rare to go to any social gathering anywhere that doesn't include alcohol.  It was my turn and they all happily joined me in not drinking.  

I felt seen, appreciated, loved.  And I took it all in with a clear head and a grateful heart.  Life!  You just never know what lessons await.  I'm happy to be me, living mine, eager to see what's next.

At least that's the view from here...©