Day Four!

So, I've been four (technically, we're on to the fifth day now, but who's counting?) days sober. It's unusual to be committed to something for a change. Being that I'm the kind of person who usually puts too many eggs in one basket, I've decided to only quit one thing at a time here. So, you know, the meth and heroin stay...

KIDDING! Totally kidding! Since I don't do any other substances worth quitting except smoking, sorry, kids, the smoking stays. Everyone I've talked to has been freakily supportive. It makes me wonder if I had a bigger problem than I had initially thought. Thus far, however, I'm handling things very well. Minimal cravings to stray from the path of so-called righteousness. It probably helps that I'm at home for the next month or so.

For a Catholic college, our dorms are rife with underage drinking. Now, first, let me mention that our campus is not a dry campus. We are permitted to have alcohol, but only certain kinds and in certain amounts. This has in no way stopped any of my so-called peers from drinking in excess each weekend. (Don't get me wrong here. In no way am I insinuating that I am any better than any of them. This is clearly not the case.) I'm just really surprised that there's no real reprimand for any of the students who are caught drinking underage.

Anyways, it's best that I'm home right now. It gives me time to focus my thoughts on the ability to refuse alcohol. It gives me some time to kind of chill, steel myself for when there will be people around me drinking. I need to be able to handle myself in these situations. I'm confident that I can, I just need some time to get my head straight again.

Amusingly enough, I had a moment earlier when I was watching DVRed episodes of Celebrity Rehab. One of the women on the show, Rachel, is talking to Dr. Drew about feeling ridiculous for having a love addiction and about how she's afraid that, if she mentions it in group, that her peers will laugh her out of the room. With a bemused smile, Dr. Drew tells her that he's certain that no one will judge her for not being "enough of an addict." In my last entry, I mentioned that I was incredulous about joining any kind of support groups for the same reason--not being enough of an addict. Thanks, Universe, message received. Loud and clear, in fact.

I did have a strange moment of pride today, as well. When I was in the bathroom, I happened to be singing to myself. Of course, because I'm terribly vain and have to have those times when I just embrace my rock star moments, I was looking at myself in the mirror. Lately, my roommate, father, and brother have agreed that it looks like I've lost a little weight. I had dismissed it as nothing, but looking in the mirror today I realized--hey!--I have lost a little weight! Or, at the very least, my fat has redistributed itself to be slightly more pleasing to the eye.

Needless to say, I am thrilled that I have not one but two good things to report today: potential weight loss and additional days of sobriety. Hopefully, by the Marianas Trench concert in Columbus on February 26th (which, by the way, I totally already bought two tickets for) I'll be able to say that I've been sober for two and a half months. Nothing would thrill me more than to go to that concert with that kind of accomplishment.

F.I.N.E. and the In-Between Post

So, somewhere in the midst of my letters project, I think it's time to make an actual post. Maybe it's motivated by my current emotional climate, but I do often find that it helps me to write it out sometimes. I guess I'm hoping for a little of the respite that I can occasionally find in writing.

Lately, I've been full of doubts. Normally, I'm pretty confident. I'm sure it's been clear from the tenor of some of the entries in my letters project that I'm having some difficulties with not feeling like myself lately. I feel like there are components that I'm losing, maybe that I've already lost. Pieces of myself that slip away from time to time. My ease with people, my confidence in myself, my ability to be honest, my faith in my relationships are all plunging.

I think about what happens if I screw up. I think about what will happen to my academic year if I don't get along with my potential roommates. I think about what will happen if I hate nursing, or--worse--if I'm no good at it. How will I choose a new career path? What will I do? Hell, I don't even like taking care of a simple little puppy, so it would only follow that I might absolutely abhor taking care of people. Just because I can stand seeing blood and guts, that doesn't mean that I'll be good at my potential future job. I'm more worried about what it will mean if I'm good at it but I hate it.

I worry about the state of my marriage, though things do seem to be getting better between JJ and myself. The guilt trips and the anger have stopped. We've been much more understanding of each other lately, and I'm more and more convinced that we'll get through this together. There are just times when I miss him terribly. Like today, having a bad mental day, I just want to be held--and not just anyone will do. I want to be held by the man that tells me that he loves me more than anything, that makes "the turtle face" just because he knows it makes me smile, whose hands envelop mine and make mine seem almost delicate (which they are definitely not). I want to be in that guy's arms. Right now.

I'd like to think that all this stress has to do with the total lack of any kind of restful sleep on my part as of late. Somehow, though, I fear that it's deeper than that. It's all coiling just below the surface to collect into one immense break during my semester. At least, that's my other fear here, that I'll be able to hold it in just until it will screw me over big time, at which point the dam will break and I'll crumble.

Lately, I just crave a simple solution. I wonder if I'd have one if I'd been just a little bit prettier, just a little bit skinnier, just a little bit smarter. Even just a little bit. None of those adjectives really seem to apply to me right now, but it would be fascinating to see what my life would be like if they did. Pretty, skinny, smart. How weird would that be? Would my life be easier? Would I know myself?

One of the things that I've been most incredulous about with the whole college dorm thing is my weight. How harshly will I be judged for it? How much harder will my life be because of it? How can I quick-fix it away? I've never been stupid enough in all of my life to consider starving myself or purging or anything like that--not to mention not having the guts to do any of those either--so there's no worry about that. I would really love it if the whole fairy godmother myth were real though.I know what my three wishes would be if I had a genie in a magic lamp.

It would just be nice if I could be calm. You know, they say that when you tell people that you're fine, what you really mean is Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional. I really wish that I wasn't doing FINE right now. Soon enough, I'll find my place again. I simply hate that I've lost it.