A Geographical Cure?

For those of you who had the day off, I truly hope that you enjoyed it and relaxed as much as you could.  For those of you who worked, sorry.

I am nervous... anxious.  And it feels good to admit.  Due to the personal issues I've grappled, I haven't been 'on my own' in roughly five or six years.  As of New Year's Day, 2012, I will be moving into a new apartment and I must say that I am entirely uncomfortable with the idea!  The truth is, I simply don't trust myself yet.  All it will take is one bad day or one boring night and I could (*could*) start repeating old patterns.  Luckily, I've repeated them to the point where I recognize them happening.  The trick is doing something about them.

There are pros and cons to every living scenario and I've weighed them all, ultimately coming to the decision to live alone.  I could have opted for roommates, though I feel I'm at the end of my run... my patience is worn.  By the time I get home from work and a meeting, I really don't feel like dealing with other people's bullshit.  While this goes counter to my 'avoid isolation' practice, everyone needs time alone.  Whether it's to eat in peace, read a book, or just take a deep breath, we need down-time.  It's especially needed for those who work in customer service oriented fields.  The mind can only process so much interaction.  That's not ME talking, but things I've picked up from others along my therapy travels.

And speaking of bullshit, I'd like to take a shit without having to wipe down the toilet seat every time I sit down.  Too much information?  Sorry.  Let's simply say that, after my last round of roommates, I can appreciate why women get so angry at men for not lifting the seat.  Friggin' gross.  Gross, gross, gross.  And would it kill a guy to clean the shower once in a while?  When the resentments set in, I tried the "If you're not going to clean, then neither am I" tactic, which backfired miserably.  What grew in the bathtub could have been studied by science for years to come.

Anyway, I see the obvious advantages of having a roommate in my situation - to keep me accountable or responsible for my drinking consequences, should I choose to drink again - but, sweet baby Jesus, I'm old enough to take care of myself.  Eventually, you've got to grow up and cut the strings.

What makes me nervous is the black hole that is my central learning unit.  I read recently, "Epiphanies are short lived."  It is possible for each of us to have profound moments of enlightenment and learning, literally life-altering events, only to forget them weeks later.  Each relapse has taught me enormous lessons, and this last relapse was no exception.  I have learned immense lessons about myself - how I react to others' anger and attacks, how I deal with personal relationships, how and how long I let my own anger fester, my internalizing of problems, the cycles of my thinking, etc.  While I'm begging for help on the inside, I still have a very difficult time verbalizing these cries.  By facing my struggles head-on lately, I'm honing new coping skills and attitudes that will help me keep my serenity and live life on the right track.

Unfortunately, it's not enough just to have these moments, as enlightening as they may be.  Without their application in daily life, I will never retrain my thinking.  I need to apply these lessons over and over again for weeks and months hereafter.  Based on my relapse 'schedule', I can see what's happened clearly.  For a couple of months, I retrain... I get back to the mental gym and start to develop a healthy attitude adjustment.  Somehow, I justify a reason to stop going to the gym for a couple of days.  Maybe I'm tired, I want to get to bed early, and so I don't do what I'm doing now... I decide not to journal, blog, or meditate.  I find a reason not to do my mental exercises.  Just like a physical workout, it's easy slide if you don't stick to a routine.  I begin a two month backslide (it's almost always one and a half to two months) and then <WHAM!!> something sends me over the edge and the drinking begins.

While I feel good now (maybe not good, but better), I know that the relapse was recent and I'm in 'retraining' mode.  During this time, I may struggle, but the thought of physically drinking is disgusting.  My stomach turns and my nose scrunches.  Seeing scotch drinkers at our office party was emotionally difficult.  Actually taking a drink was out of the question.  For a few more weeks, I have a buffer.  It's what happens when the buffer runs out that makes me anxious.

Ah well, I'm projecting.  I won't beat myself up for it.  After all, moving is a big deal, no matter who you are.  It comes with a lot of stress, mostly financial.  But I just wrote last night that things are pretty simple, as long as I'm living in the moment.  24-hours, pal... that's all I'm after.  I think the fear I'm feeling is healthy (I respect it, certainly), but I can't let it overtake me.  I'll wind up complicating things and we know that's never good, not for me.  You don't want me to start over-analyzing this.

"Take a deep breath."  "Easy does it."  "One day at a time."  I need all of the slogans right now!