What 20 Years Sober Looks Like

On June 13th, 2011, I will have been clean and sober 20 years.

20 years. Twenty. Two decades.

Some people might ask why I'm even writing about this, publicly, on my blog. Isn't this a private matter, Maven? Shouldn't this be a little more hush-hush? To them, I say the following:

1. Um, hello? Have you read anything I've written? Am I ever hush-hush about anything, including my addictive personality? You are obviously not a real fan if you haven't yet figured out that I'm anything but reserved.

2. Is diabetes private? Is M.S. private? Is cancer private? Those are diseases. I also have a disease; it's called alcoholism. There is a stigma attached to it, but I talk about it anyway because I'm a rebel. But don't worry; I also have a disease called egoism, and I freely show that off every time I discuss how amazing I am, too. (Which is pretty much daily).

3. If recovering addicts don't ever discuss their addictions, how on earth would anyone know they can reach out to us if they need help? This is my outreach. Maybe someone will read this and think, "Wow, if that overwhelmed mother to three unbelievably busy children can get and stay sober, maybe I can, too." I'm a public service announcement wrapped up in great hair, bitches.

Anyway, I've been trying to figure out how, exactly, I can giftwrap what two decades of sobriety feels like and pass it on; what it means to me to have been given this second chance at life. I don't know if I can. That's right: I'm a writer, and I don't know if I can.

How can one summarize what it feels like to know - absolutely know, beyond a doubt - that she won't live to see past her teen years unless she accepts help, because her disease is too strong, too all-consuming, too dangerous? How can one put into words what it's like to feel fear so deep and despair so dark that she eventually accepts the help - the incredible, miraculous help - that's offered to her and leaps with her last bit of strength because there is nothing to lose anymore? How can one truly explain the contrast between that sad, broken little girl and the woman she is today? (Still a little bit broken, not very sad, and in fact grinning ear-to-ear most of the time.)

I had lost almost everything - my friends, my education, my self-esteem, my strength, my hope, my will to live, and nearly my family. I was out of options, I was out of chances, and the path that awaited me if I didn't step into that treatment center would be short and frightening and very lonely. So I did, and I got my life back. And on that now solid foundation, I slowly built up something incredible.

They say most addicts never stay clean. And yet I have, one day at a time, for two decades. This disease is powerful and all-consuming. It's a deep hole to climb out of, and I understand the desire to stay in that hole, or to head back down there when the world gets tough. I don't believe I'm any stronger, more capable, or more insightful than anyone else. I don't know why I've been able to maintain my sobriety. I just know that I have, and that I'm incredibly grateful for that fact every single day. And that now, of all times, I want to shout from the rooftops that it's possible, achievable, incredible.

Heck, if I can do it, anyone can. I am definitely not the poster child for sobriety by any means. I'm far from perfect - just read through my posts over the last few years to get a good idea of my numerous shortcomings and multiple blunders of various types. If I can beat the odds, so can anyone else. No joke. You just have to really, really want it, more than anything else. And you have to be willing to work damn hard for it.

So, if I can't write about what it means to mark this milestone, maybe I can show you. And maybe you can show this to someone else. And maybe they can show this to someone else who is struggling right now. And maybe, just maybe, it will help someone a little bit and I can feel even more awesome than I usually do (if that's even possible).

This is what twenty years of sobriety is to me:

It's me (not drunk)

And him. Oh, him. I love him very much.

And us. We're a really great us, I must say.

Together, we made wonderful him.

And beautiful him.

And very sweet him.

Sobriety is them and the life we have as a family.

It's being here to capture these moments.

And especially these moments.

And absolutely loving these moments.

How have I stayed sober? No substance holds a candle to this amazing, frustrating, beautiful, incredible, overwhelming, insane, adventurous life. I am so blessed to have what I have, and I will fight tooth and nail to keep it. It was statistically improbable that I could have all of this in my life given the disease that nearly swallowed me whole. And now that I have it, there's no way I'll ever let it go for anything. Ever.

Finally, there's an abundance of this in just about every day in the last 7, 304 days:

Coffee. And joy (Same thing, really.)

 This is a rockin' life. I'm so thankful. So very thankful.

How to be Popular Even When You're Kind of a Douche

"A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart, and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words." - Unknown.

Remember a couple of weeks ago when I wrote about feeling like absolute garbage? Well, you can breathe again: I'm feeling much better. You can probably gather that from my last few posts about my awesome life. It was a blip on the radar screen of life, albeit a decent-sized one. The Maven is back full-force, spreading greatness to all her sheeple.

But surprisingly, this post is not about my greatness. If you're a friend of mine, it's about yours. And if you're not a friend of mine, pretend you are and feel good about yourself for a few minutes. But, like, not in a stalker-ish way because that's creepy.

When I was at my absolute lowest, when I felt quite alone in the world, all I had to do was send out an SOS to a friend, and - ka-pow! - I had a drive to a restaurant, a cup of coffee in my hands, and someone to listen and tell me everything was going to be okay. The friend in question was the first person I reached out to, and she responded without hesitation. I doubt she realizes the impact of her simple act of kindness, but it was immense. I am indebted for a very long time. Good thing she likes coffee.

What I realized - and what is key for me to remember in those yucky times - is that there are many other people I could have reached out to who would have done the same thing in a heartbeat. And with that in mind, it's hard to feel alone.

That night was but one of many recent reminders that my life is full of amazing human beings. There have been so many more acts of kindness in the last little while. I'd list them all, but you wouldn't believe me. I hardly believe it myself. This weekend alone had me feeling so happy that I almost blew up in a sticky mess gratitude. It would have taken Geekster weeks to clean me off of the upholstery.

All kidding, all ego, all narcissistic tendencies aside for once, I don't know what I do to deserve the quality of friendship in my life. I really don't.  I tell my husband all the time that I must have a social horseshoe placed somewhere in my lower quadrant, because there is no other reasonable explanation. My support circle is forever expanding, improving, and filling to the brim with these loving, supportive, far-more-awesome-than-I-am people. I am humbled by their strength, their wisdom, their courage, their resilience. They are truly what keep me going some days when chaos tries to pull me under. And I have three boys, folks, so believe me: my life is well-acquainted with chaos.

There are days when I spend far too much time trying to figure out how to give back to everyone. I really don't think I give out nearly as much love as what comes in. I am a mooch of epic proportions. I don't keep up with everyone like I wish I could, I don't always promptly return phone calls or emails. I admit to feeling enormously guilty about that. I'm like a bad boyfriend who takes and takes and takes and doesn't even call on our anniversary. No flowers at the door, no declaration of love in the Facebook relationship status. My name should be Chad or Tad or some other heartbreaker jock name that makes you want to cry into your pompoms.

Tonight, while trying to decide what to blog about, I threw the question out into cyberspace via a status update. The suggestions I received ranged from "sibling rivalry" to my obvious Facebook addiction (I'll have you know I can quit any time I want to.) While I was looking over the list, the answer became clear: My friends. I shall write about my friends, and thank them from the bottom of my heart for being wonderful.

I shall dedicate this post to them because, in the end, who cares whether I return phone calls or ask people about their day? If I write one blog post about everyone, that will make it all better. We'll be even Steven. Then I won't look like a douchebag moocher anymore because I'll be thanking everyone, bulk-email style. People love that stuff, right?

Right?

Don't argue with The Maven. I'm drowning in my own popularity. I must be doing something right.

So thank you. Really and truly, thank you. Until I come up with better ways to give back, this will have to do. It goes without saying that every girl needs good people in her corner, and my corner has an entire pyramid of broken-hearted cheerleaders yelling "Why, Chad-Tad? WHY?!?" 

Gutsy's Last Day of School - An Update

Is it the last day of school already?!

As of this afternoon at 3:00 - or, more likely, at 12:30 when I leave annual school picnic with Gutsy undoubtedly in tow - I will officially be the full-time caretaker of three gremlin boys once again.

Is there a way to convey anxiety-driven ticks? Because I think if I just write "*tick tick*" people might think I'm imitating a clock and spend the next few minutes trying to figure out how that fits into the context of this post.

Instead of ticking (not like a clock), I put all this nervous energy to good use and cleaned my house up all spotless like.

I did that on Friday.

It's now Wednesday. My house is still clean, even with three boys, 2 dogs and 2 cats living in it.

Throw away the yoga mat, people; I'm living proof that being a neurotic freak can be hugely beneficial to one's life.

Gutsy finishes grade 1 today. It's been one hell of a year for our middle gremlin. He started in french immersion class and ended up in the english stream with large helpings of stress for all during these difficult few months. It's incredible to think that, only a couple of months ago, our entire family was on the verge of collapse under all the daily pressure of his outbursts and, dare I say, depression. Looking back, I can clearly see the signs of overwhelming stress and sadness. I've been depressed, I've felt stuck and alone. That's how Gutsy was feeling. It breaks my heart. I get teary thinking about how hard this year has been for him.

And yet, he went off to school smiling today as he's done nearly every day since joining his new class in April. He comes home beaming and telling me about his day. He feels connected and happy. I see that sparkle in his eyes. I feel like we have Gutsy back again. It's not perfect; he still has outbursts and we still feel overwhelmed when they get bad, but the improvement is huge. With some therapy to teach us all some coping skills, I think we're well on our way to a more harmonious family.

I may be eating those words in August. Start placing bets.

We have learned so much as a family this year. We didn't collapse, we got stronger. We didn't shrink when faced with a challenge, we pulled together as many resources as possible and are using them. We didn't lose Gutsy, we got to know him better.

My only worry about this summer is that it's going to throw Gutsy's groove off. Being an anxious kid, he needs some kind of structure -- but not too much structure, because that's stressful. And it has to be the right kind of structure. Oh! And it it has to suit his brothers, too, who are six years his senior and four years his junior.

But, no pressure or anything.

I have no idea how I'm going to pull this off without losing the rest of my mind. But hey, my house is clean. Have I mentioned how clean my house is? Yes, my house is very, very clean. In fact, I was up until almost 1AM cleaning it because my brain kept shifting between "Tomorrow is the last day of school! YAY!" and "Tomorrow is the last day of school! EEEEEEEEEP!" So I just kept cleaning until the voices went away.

(I think this is the way OCD starts.)

Anyway, I need to go make some bagels. I promised one to the middle gremlin for his picnic lunch, and a smiling Gutsy makes Maven happier than a brooding Gutsy. Then, we'll head to the picnic.

And then I think I'll clean the kitchen until it sparkles.

Some Updates on the Incredible Gutsy

Everyone wants to know about Gutsy.

Gutsy, Gutsy, Gutsy.

It's all about Gutsy. Never mind how The Maven is doing. Never mind about her dumb anniversary or usurped trips to the grocery store. Who cares about that? Let's talk about a child in crisis, like that's somehow more important.

Fine: I'll indulge your disturbing show of empathy for seven-year-olds and tell you about what's going on in the realm of the Middle Gremlin. You may want to put your change and personal belongings in a zipped up pocket and keep your hands and feet inside the car at all times. It's been a couple of weeks and there is some updating to be had.

Things are going very well at school. This isn't a huge change for Gutsy, because school is not a place where he usually has major issues. Since he has my genius brain (and incredible good looks), the kid is destined for success just like me, his millionaire mother.

Oh, right. Never mind. I'm walking proof that perfection doesn't equal success. I guess I'll have to work hard for reasonable earnings my entire life like all those people who are less perfect than I am. Who says life is fair?

Anyway, back to Gutsy: He's now in the English stream and really enjoying it. I think he needed the freedom to be chatty about things without worrying about expressing himself in a new language. He can be a bit of a motormouth - no idea where he gets it from, honest.

Today, he's presenting an "Expert of the Day" project he worked very hard on. He chose the subject "Pro Movie Making" and included a film he made of Intrepid interviewing him about - you guessed it - making movies. He added in a FBI warning, a PG-13 rating, some sound effects, captions and credits. He's had several projects in the French Immersion program, but I practically needed a cattle prod to get him motivated enough to work on them. This motivation is a very positive sign for our little man. It tells me we made the right decision to switch him back to English.

We have a wonderful behavior tech at the school who is now working with Gutsy daily. They're making comic strips every afternoon to talk about how his day went. She's doing some simple exercises with him to work on his anger and frustration levels. The added bonus is that he can decompress a little with her before coming home. This may add years to my life, and I'm only kind of joking.

The last few days, Gutsy's claws have remained mostly retracted after school, which is a huge change from the hurricane mood swings happening just a handful of weeks ago. He does still have his moments - like when he got in a fight with one of his best friends last Tuesday and erupted in a way that scared the socks off me - but things are improving overall.

This isn't to say that Gutsy isn't still Gutsy. He was born with a personality and we need to work within the confines of it. He's always been an explosive kind of kid and that likely won't go away anytime soon. Transitions are difficult and he has a certain amount of rigidity when it comes to routine, foods, clothes, etc. That's just who he is, and with the right amount of gentle guidance, I see him becoming a creative, meticulous, responsible and reliable adult. Gutsy is the type of kid who will grow up to do great things if we can help his confidence grow. He just needs love, understanding and consistency (and mommy needs copious amounts of coffee.)


Speaking of which, if I hear one more person suggest that we're not consistent enough/don't show Gutsy who's boss enough/aren't in control enough, I'm going to get all up in their grill. I know they're trying to help, but that type of "help" isn't very helpful. Contrary to popular belief, Geekster and I have watched Super Nanny, too. We realize that letting a child run the house can lead to screaming and tantrums and all sorts of rotten behaviour. We have been doing this for a few years, you know. Heck, parenting is my full-time job. If I let the Gremlins Three run the house, I would have been strung up by my ankles and pelted to death with potatoes a long time ago.

Gutsy's issue is not that his parents are complacent. Geekster and I were laughing about that the other night and saying we wish that were the case; it would be much easier to solve the problem if it were all our fault. However, we have a child who isn't in control of his emotions as much as he probably should be at this age. He's anxious and quick to anger. Watching him snap is not only stressful for everyone, but terribly heartbreaking. He's a good kid with a lot of love, and yet he can turn in an instant when his brain just can't take anymore. This is a biological issue, not a parenting one.

If I don't haul Gutsy off to a corner for a time-out when he's yelling and jumping up and down and stomping his feet, it's not because I'm not in control of the situation. When his dad speaks gently to him when Gutsy is screaming back in anger, it's not because he's weak. What we're doing is helping our son get the words out of his overwhelmed little body so that he can calm down faster without further escalating the situation. The goal is that next time he'll be closer to using his words instead of exploding and feel safe enough to do so. The best part is that this method is working. It's working so much better than showing him who's boss and demanding he stop his retched behaviour right now. A quick fix isn't the solution here. Believe me, staying calm and talking him down is significantly harder than giving a time-out. It takes a lot more effort to extract those feelings from him than removing privileges and making up reward charts. It's positively fucking exhausting, actually. Complacency isn't even in our vocabulary right now.

So please, if you want to make ignorant assumptions feel free to do so but keep them to yourself. Much like any parent of special needs kids, we have enough on our plates without having to explain ourselves to those who are quick to point fingers. We have no time or energy for that right now.

Why yes, I do feel much better after saying that. Thanks for asking.

Another thing we did to simplify our family life is get rid of the playroom. Sounds counterproductive, doesn't it? How did that make things easier? A few ways:

1. We purged about half the toys in our house, making cleanup easier

2. We moved the office into the old playroom

3. We moved Gutsy into the old office and left Spawnling in his existing room, giving all three gremlins their own room

4. Now everyone has a quiet space to get away and go to sleep

5. Because the old-playroom-turned-office is rather large, I was able to move my desk out of the bedroom and join Geekster in here, all professional-like. Booyaka!

Gutsy loves his new room. He goes in there after school to unwind before joining everyone else in the common rooms. There has been far less fighting and far more harmony in the three days since we moved everyone around. And yes, that means the move was done Mother's Day weekend. Believe me, peace in an otherwise chaotic household is a gift that keeps on giving. Who needs flowers?

We now also have a social worker at our local health department who will be coordinating any help we get for Gutsy. They must have fast-tracked him in, because I was told it would likely take a few months. We now start the difficult process of finding a therapist who understands that children with hearing loss often have behavioral issues that mimic ADD/ADHD and other similar disorders. That therapist will likely cost a great deal of money, so I'm thinking I might start that prostitution ring I've been contemplating.

Either that, or write the bestselling novel in my head. Prostitution is probably easier and quicker, but I don't know if I can bring myself to wear faux fur in the coming Summer months. Nobody likes a sweaty hooker.

All this to say that things are slowly getting better but are by no means resolved. There are times when Geekster and I look at each other and wonder how we're going to get through that particular day, when I call someone sobbing because I'm exhausted and don't know if I can take anymore, when I sit by Gutsy's bed at night wondering how we got here and how we can make things better for the boy I love so much. But overall, he's happier, he smiles more, he breaks down less. He has a bit of a twinkle in his eye that I missed so much.

And for the first time in a long time, I believe things are going to be okay. Having hope is definitely progress.

There's your damn update. Now can we talk about me again?

(All pictures by my sister, owner of Trinque Photography. You can find her Facebook fan page here. If you live in the Ottawa, Canada area, this girl is for hire! I keep telling her she needs to do this photography thing full-time but she won't listen to me. Figures.)

Love Means Killing Yourself Jogging

Guys. Wow. You know, I joke about being popular and loved and everything, but 20 comments about my fat day? I can't possibly thank each and every one of you individually. You're too much. You're awesome. You're incredible.

You may start construction on my statue any time. And while you're working on it, think you could shape my ass to be a wee bit more muscular? If we're going to immortalize me for all time, let's do it in style, okay?

Honestly, I'm feeling the love and I am extremely grateful. My mom's post made me cry (stupid moms and their powerful words of wisdom) as did a couple of others. Some others made me sad because people who are obviously beautiful don't always have the best body image. Why? Why don't you think you're totally hot? You are. Embrace it! When I'm your size I'm going to be checking myself out in every reflective surface. I mean, damn!

At any rate, that day was what I needed to get on track. This week I hiked, I worked in the yard, I did some weights and I avoided buying any junk food. I did sneak in a few chips at a BBQ (mandatory) and some chocolate-covered fruit (a little compromise I came up with when I was in the mood for my once-upon-a-time daily intake of chocolate) but overall I've done well without complete deprivation. I like.

Today I didn't have to do The Denim Dance, which is basically me hopping into my jeans and then wiggling back and forth while sucking in my gut and forcing the button closed. Once that's done the zipper is a piece of cake, but at what cost? The buttons get very loose, and the muffin top needs to be hidden under a shirt with no waist (thank goodness for current fashion). Yet, this morning I slipped into my favourite pair of jeans with no problems whatsoever and just about humped the bedside table in delight.

What? You don't get the urge to hump things? Must be my dominating personality.

I keep checking myself out in the mirror, too. It's ridiculous. I'm noticing the shrinking double chin and, of course, the red hair. My life, at the moment, is all about the red hair. When I find my waist the red hair will step back to play a supporting role.

On Friday, Geekster and I attended a couple study at the University of Ottawa. Why? Because we want to help the next generation of lovebirds. Because we want to increase awareness of how relationships work. Because we want to help scientists figure out how successful couples co-exist.

And mostly because they paid $40 and it was a night out. We ran out the door when we were finished and had a nice dinner. Thank you, science!

The spouse and I spent about two hours answering questionnaires, playing cooperative games and trying to argue about important topics on camera. The result? We realized we're really bad at arguing as our communication skills are quite decent, and we've ironed out most of our differences over the last sixteen years anyway. Also, according to our answers on the questionnaires, we really love each other. Like, a lot.

A few of my friends are in new relationships and are in the cutesy-shmootesy stage. They get and receive dozens of emails, phone calls and texts a day saying how much Lovebug loves Teddybear. They get flowers "just because" and a lot of date nights where they get to find their new-ish partner's second favourite colour and, oh my god, it's the same as their own! It must be a match made in heaven!

After spending half my life with someone, I already know his second favourite colour, or I could at least take a very good guess. I don't find out something new about him every day, and most of our conversations over MSN involve asking if I can put the trash out or if he can pick up some bread on the way home from work. It's the reality of a long term relationship involving the hatching and care of gremlins and the paying of mortgages; the cuteness is replaced by "please pass the cereal box when you're done" or "did you really need to buy that?"

But the upside, of course, is that we've practically grown up together and thus are thicker than thieves. Even if we were terribly different at first, we've now grown into this festering mass of co-dependency. Other than the fact that I have hair and a few extra pounds on me, we're pretty much the exact same person. We like the same shows, we like doing a lot of the same things, we nod in approval to each other's musical tastes. We never argue about what to eat for dinner, whether we should brew decaf or regular coffee, and our parenting styles are practically interchangeable, meaning the kids are going to save at least half of what they could spend on therapy bills; The same issue twice over is way cheaper than two separate traumas.

Yep. When the university team has a look at our answers and recorded interview, they're going to see exactly what the future has in store for them if they continue to swap spit with the same person for many years. Also, they'll hopefully check out a couple of seasons of How I Met Your Mother, which I recommended a few times by looking in the camera. When arguing with your soulmate in the name of science just isn't happening, why not play a quick game of "Remember when they said this? Hilarious! Oh, sorry Camera. Have you watched that show? You really should."

I'm still a sucker for a good love story, however, and have been getting my fix visiting the websites of him and her. They're adorable. Almost sickeningly. In fact, I puke a little in my mouth every time I read of another fantastic/magical/glorious/fairy-dusted weekend (I try to eat something grape-flavoured first. Grape is delish even coming back up). They seem like very normal people, unlike yours truly. I probably scare them being all groupie like, but that's the chance you take when you put your life up on the internets for the world to see. You might end up getting an old married broad sighing over your sweet little nothings to each other.

Disgusting. That's what it is. Absolutely disgusting!

(I hope there's more tomorrow.)

Also, I have to mention that I just ran 1.91 miles. And by "ran" I mean jogged, and by "jogged" I mean about 2/3 of that, while taking walking breaks to gasp for air with my fat-laden, asthmatic lungs.

I'm going to call it "interval training", which sounds significantly better than what I just wrote.

Being a hot bitch is really hard work, you know.

Updated Love Quotes

Since Valentine's Day is tomorrow, I thought it appropriate to update some of our well-known thoughts on love. They just seem outdated and a little idealistic for this day and age. So, without further ado (because I'm speaking at a meeting tonight and have a million things to do first), I present to you my own personal spin on some old favourites:

There is no remedy for love but to love more date a few jerks.
- Henry David Thoreau

True love begins when nothing is looked for in return he tells you the vasectomy worked.
- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life. That word is Love Cardio.
- Sophocles

Love is the irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired a few pounds heavier because you're not in the dating scene anymore.
- Mark Twain

Come, let us make love deathless out of something chocolaty.
- Herbert Trench

The most powerful symptom of love is a tenderness which becomes at times almost insupportable this weird wart thing that your doctor can give you cream for.
-Victor Hugo

The most precious possession that ever comes to a man in this world is a woman's heart a universal remote, or maybe a game console.
- Josiah G. Holland

Harmony is pure love, for love is a concerto playing Rockband together.
- Lope De Vega

To be your friend was all I ever wanted; to be your lover was all I ever dreamed means I had to sign a pre-nup.
--Unknown

In love there are two things: bodies and words vowels: o and e.
- Joyce Carol Oates

Love Co-dependence is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.
- Robert Heinlein

Your words are my food, your breath my wine. You are everything to me Get the hell out of my fridge.
- Sarah Bernhardt