Skip to main content

Day 2 of Sobriety

12.21.2014

*Don't expect a new post every day. This writing spree is mostly therapeutic and posting publicly allows me to partially free myself from my pain. 

This is day two of this journey. I cried myself to sleep last night. I was angry and sad and tired and thirsty, and those sleeping pills just weren't cutting it. I wondered about the silence of those around me. When I was younger, I used to communicate with those strange people we call “friends” almost daily. As I age, the phone calls are almost non-existent. The texts come less frequently. I look through my phone log and the person I've communicated with the most these past couple of weeks is someone I’m annoyed with right now. What is this age thing? Everyone’s with their lovers, parents, and children, and I'm lamenting while sipping hot tea. I’m angry at my friends for not checking in. I often wonder how they’d react if I just disappeared—fell off the face of the earth. I’m trying that deactivating Facebook thing again. I got off Instagram, and am purely on twitter to keep up with the latest news of the burgeoning protests across the country. I haven’t been tempted yet by alcohol. I’m perfectly content now, but it’s been less than 48 hours. I am encouraged, though, empowered by my decision to dump a really nice bottle of Cab down the drain. Was that courage or was that fear? Could I not survive in the same room as my poison? Today, I've been trying to pinpoint why I loved drinking so much. I think part of it was that alcohol allowed me to relax in the company of others. Firstly, I’m an introvert and in many social situations, I've consumed alcohol as a survival technique. Secondly, alcohol gave me an escape from my sometimes somber reality. I’m often alone, by choice and by circumstance. Alcohol is like a friend—another person in the room to keep you company. It’s like playing the TV for background noise. Finally, alcohol has been a part of some of my most breathtaking musical and poetic creations. I've had other-worldly creative experiences and writing sessions under the influence. It's like, I reach another level of intellectual freedom when inebriated. I will miss that, I suppose, but I guess that means I’ll just have to tap into another part of my being. I've also been avoiding TV too. I’m in dire need of true alone time, peace, and quiet, so that I can be as close to God as possible.  I don’t know where this entry is going, and there's a headache slowly creeping in. I think I’ll take a nap. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"Where Do You See Yourself in 5 Years?"

Today (December 1st, 2020), Facebook reminded me that 5 years ago, I wrapped up a 5-week run of Ain't Misbehavin' at Portland Center Stage in Oregon, and flew back to New York City to re-enter my life there. I had just applied to seminary a few days before Thanksgiving and was excited about the possibility of leaning into this strong calling I felt to deepen my theological knowledge. I was still under the illusion that I'd be able to maintain some sort of performance career, so I kept my manager, Greg, and he'd continue sending me out on auditions. I was becoming very picky about what I'd say "yes" to-- Would I go on that national tour of Hamilton that he wanted to send me on or would I go to seminary? Would I leave to do a 9-month stint in After Midnight on an international cruise ship or would I go to seminary?  That was the question over and over again. I decided that I'd still do local stuff in NYC or short stints in other cities. Even as I ente...

A Call to Slowdown

On March 30, 2017, I wrote a caption under a picture I posted of me preaching my very first public sermon in James Chapel at Union Theological Seminary in the City of New York. The sermon was entitled, “I Have an Issue of Blood.” To my surprise, at the end of my moment of sermonic exploration – what was originally supposed to be a spoken word piece but quickly grew into something beyond my wildest imagination – I got a standing ovation. It was… odd . I thought to myself, “Why are these people standing and clapping for me? I’m not a preacher.” Folks came up to me after to convey their appreciation for the message. Someone in the congregation shared a picture they took of me. I posted it on Instagram and Facebook the next day with the caption: “I sometimes feel like there's a person running ahead of me—the person that God is calling me to be—and I'm running behind her trying to catch up as she runs faster and faster. And I don't know where's she's going but I know i...

Why I Quit Church...

On Sunday I quit church... for the day, at least. It was the most beautiful and painfully passionate act of self-care I've ever done.   Hi. My name is Mia, and I live with an anxiety disorder.  It's 4:30 on Sunday morning. My first alarm intrudes on the three hours of sleep I've managed to acquire. I begrudgingly assess the state of my vocal cords and decide whether or not they are well enough for me to sleep another thirty minutes. I hit snooze. Minutes later, my second alarm assaults my rem cycle. I pimp-slap my iPhone and decide whether or not I'm going to steam (a process in which I stand over a pot of boiling water for fifteen minutes to lubricate my cords). I, instead, opt for the less time consuming process of making tea, buying me an extra fifteen minutes of sleep. at 5:15, my third and final alarm goes off. I roll out of bed and into the shower. As I lather, I do minor vocal warm-ups and meditate. It's 6:05. I'm clothed, tea is made, hair is done,...