Since I quit drinking over two years ago, Friday nights and I have worked out a new relationship where other people go out and I order in heart attack food, sit on the couch, watch bad tv, and poke around on Twitter. That sounds more pathetic than it feels. It's not, I swear. I love my bad tv and take-out burgers far more than I actually enjoyed spending $50 so I couldn't remember any of the meaningless conversations I had with people who made increasingly less sense as the night went on.
Damn. I wasn't going to mention anything serious today.
I went to bed last night making mental notes about this hilarious story I was going to tell you this morning, because I spent the whole day yesterday questioning the basic meaning and worth of human existence, and it felt brilliant to finally be thinking thoughts that wouldn't freak out mental health professionals, but then, as usual, I woke up a blank slate, because no one remembers late night idea events. I blame this serious topic turn on my lack of note-taking at 1:00 a.m.
I'm very taken up with thoughts of anniversaries and evolution these days. In July, I celebrated being five years cancer-free. In August, I was officially two years sober. In September, I hit three years since my last cigarette. I mentioned the cancer-free anniversary here, but I didn't mention my addiction-related anniversaries at all. I don't know why exactly.
The Palinode and I also moved into our first owned home in September, and this fact is messing with my whole view of myself as an adult, as a wife*, as someone who is turning 40 in December, as a freelancing creative.
So, I'm a technically cancer-free, sober, home-owning, freelancing ex-smoker who really needs to lighten up. You'll be happy to note that my NatureBright SunTouch Plus Light and Ion Therapy Lamp should be arriving this week. (That's not an affiliate link. I just like referring to it by its full, given name like it's a bad child late for dinner.)
I was something else five years ago, in a lot of ways, and I feel like I've landed after taking a very long, flying leap that started with facing my fear of death in the concrete here-and-now and carried through facing addictions and maturation and more fear, and that leap dropped me here in this home of ours where I feel more secure in some ways than I ever have in my life.
My mother once said to me: "You keep jumping out of frying pans and into fires when I don't think you should even be in the frying pan in the first place."
This relative security has completely thrown me off my game. I don't trust it. The fire might refine, but it keeps on being a goddamned fire.
I just keep asking what now?, as though the thing that's coming matters more than what's happening right this moment, as though there must be something large and terrifying looming over my near future, like there's still another addiction I need to kick.
I think I like fires. No, I know I like fires. I'm also afraid that I have an affinity for the jumping part, too.
So, what now?
* When I mention my view of myself as a wife changing, I do not mean that I am questioning being a wife. The Palinode's stuck with me, and I am still obsessively in love with him. I'm his in-house stalker.