See Jane Sober

Today as I was sitting typing at the computer I saw one of my club kids walk by and without hesitating, I knock on the window, grinning maniacally and wave repeatedly until he waves back. Because even though he is 10 and I am overwhelmingly uncool, I still think he is an awesome kid.
I didn't give it much thought - 300 kids walk by my window and wave at me every day. He comes back and puts his eyes up to the window so I mirror him and spell the word "Puzzle", in the grime until he can read it.
He comes in and we sit down together at the table, without any words, while he fishes the pieces out of the box. "Make me a bagel", he tells me, and I laugh at him telling him to make it himself. He knows I don't cook - unless snack magically appears on the table, we ain't eatin' either.
He starts telling me about his day as I pick out all the edge pieces and I snicker when he starts describing the Sousaphone. "Are you crazy?" he interrupts. "Uh hunh" I answer, flipping all the frog pieces his way.
I look at him and wonder why I'm not like this with my step kids. Relaxed. Normal.
When I pick them up from the airport we stand there like magnetic opposites. My parents hug them. My husband hugs them. I blanche until my dad coaxes me and then I look at the floor. They look away. If this moment were captured in time, it would be a wedgie.
I wonder if it can ever be another way, but then shake it off, remembering that I got drunk 2 summers ago and called one of them a dick. I apologized to him, but I don't think I was speaking untruthfully. I'm not so sure I think it was his fault, either. He's on the threshold of being a kid - when you don't know that life is difficult and tumultuous and that you can't walk around being an asshole to everyone if they don't let you eat pixy sticks for lunch and that you're going to be held accountable for your actions regardless of HOW fucked up your family is or isn't. Eventually, you have to be yourself.
I don't drink much anymore, but I don't think they'd ever live close enough to me to know that.
When they hurt my husband, there is no gauge on my anger. It is like the white hot sun. I think that someday they will love somebody as much as he loves them, and then they will understand.
Until then I just worry about them making it out of adolescence alive. Last time somebody asked me how old I felt, it was 16 - I year older than the oldest. I remember those days very clearly. The long hair, the music, the drugs, the camaraderie. The importance of those things and my involvement with them, which varied. At that age, my friends were my drugs.
I also remember that when I was a teenager, I thought my parents knew fuckall, and I worry about that, too.
But then I stumble across a Myspace message about them smoking pot together and think, "At least they're not screwing."...yet. Which is lax for a parent, but from 2000 miles away (and yes, dammit, I know it was my choice) that's about all I've got.
I also think that if they wanted to live with us that they could. But that's another issue. So we just float, on opposite sides of the ocean. Connected but not.
It's not very comfortable like this, but until we are actually person-to-person reach out and touch someone close, I just settle for afternoons of calculated communication with the kids I can talk to, touch, love.
It's about all I've got.

I went to the counselor again yesterday. It was a rather strange episode. I've been feeling strange lately, and was unable to hide it from here. I'm not saying strange emotionally, but strange off. Weak, fatigued.

It started yesterday when I was trying to direct through the kids a rather simple craft. I started shaking physically and uncontrollably and knew that I had to put food in my mouth at that minute. I was shaking so hard that it actually started rattling my ribcage so that when I sat down, I had a hard time breathing. I wondered if I was having a panic attack, but then as I noted my overwhelming sense of calm and surmised that I was okay. As I shoved banana after banana after bag of tried apricots and fat free popcorn in my mouth, 1 thing struck me. The taste of the sugar. I couldn't get enough of it. After about 15 minutes the shaking subsided, but I was exhausted.

And that's how I've been feeling lately. If I lay down, I'll sleep. Not just a light nap, but OUT. I can't hear the phone ring - that's how deep I'm under. I've been to work late twice since this has happened. I can't get up in the morning, and will often doze off just when I sit down for a second.

I told the counselor that when I wasn't sleeping, I was mostly exhausted. When dick and I rode to the beach the other day, I was so spent, that I literally just sat on the sand like a big blob of marshmallow and just rolled the rocks through my fingers. Not the first time, either. We rode down to the other beach several weekends ago and by the time we got there I was so hungry that I thought I was going to faint. I drove back to our room to get some snacks, but stopped at our friend's house along the way because I was so tired. When she opened the door, I burst into tears and she made me a sandwich.

It's kind of strange for me documenting all this. Makes me realize how common it has been. The other doctor told me it was because I perhaps I wasn't exercising enough, but the other day when I got on the treadmill, I ran until my foot caught in the moving part (read: I completely overdid it) and had to get off and lay down on the floor until I could regain my breath.

Emotionally, I have been okay, I think, but I think that these "epsiodes" effect me as well. They leave me feeling vulnerable and frustrated. The counselor noticed all this and sent me to the regular doctor. She said that these were red flags that should be taken note of. Take note.

He asked me what I could attribute it to, and I seriously don't know. It's been Mr.Toad's Wild Ride since I got on all of these damn pills. He did put me back on "THE PILL", but I haven't taken them yet. I think my period adds to the shaky, too. They're supposed to regulate the cramps. I don't really want to be back on birth control, but if something helps to regulate the cramps, I guess I can suffer through it. That and I feel like the boys band is dancing around with spiked soccer cleats. It's not pleasant.

The overall conclusion was that I would lay off the Antabuse. While I was elated originally, now I'm kind of nervous. I was happy in my, "IF I DRINK, I MIGHT DIE" fear - which would make total sense because the counselor said that I operate out of fear. 6 straight weeks is an accomplishment, but it is still newly sober, in the long run. Just like when I said, "2 weeks is the blink of an eye." I do think that it helps having been "out" and that I have seen people completely shit faced drunk and embarrassed. And I was sober and enjoying myself the whole time.

The strange thing is that I dreamed that I was out of men again. I was wavering in my dream between Dick and the "other" men in my life who I haven't spoken to in years, and I was scared. I think the general gist of the dream was that I had run out and would be alone. Also, my other fear, that I got really loaded and slept with a bunch of men. Which is much worse than anything than I have ever done. In my dream, I remember that I was SO drunk that I couldn't remember WHAT I did, but that all the men in my dream remember that I had sex wit them and that it would be something that I would never live down, much less be forgiven for. Also in the dream, I remember feeling relieved upon figuring out that I didn't ACTUALLY do it. It means that I can be forgiven. It takes me a while to wake up and take stock. I feel uncomfortable until I realize where I actually am and that HEY! You're in a good place!

Jane Says "Aww...FREAK OUT!"

Note: I wrote this really quickly without much editing while in a crunch, please be kind to forgive.

I am really and truly embararrassed that I haven't been keeping up with this like I wanted to. I just find myself so busy that I collapse into bed exhausted in the evening and pass out, sans the help of any type of, um, assistance.

I do know that it has been too long between blog entries when I remember that I have to cut my finger nails again because they are hindering my typing (gasp!). Hello, Princess 911?

I'm not even going to try and lie about this month, because it has been very, very difficult. My medication has been ALL OVER THE BOARD, and so have I. At one point I was so drugged up that I didn't even want to get on my main mode of transportation (my legs), because I was so damn wobbly. In my fucking flip flops! Don't even ask me about the bike, because y'all don't want to go there.

About this time, I really started struggling with the idea of being medicated. I think some people revel in it. Make it their excuse and oh god, I did not want to be that girl. I have friends and acquaintances who use it as a shield to intentionally hurt and harass other people and bruise other people and I believe that is crossing the line. And I? I walk the line. Yes, I am giggling unstoppingly in my tribute to Johnny Cash. But I will say that my intention has never been to hurt or hide. The realization that I was doing both indicated that I need to take another look. Wait a minute, Mr. Postman.

Quitting drinking also means coming to terms with speculation. "Are you going out this weekend?" a friend asked. "No, I'm taking it easy." She laughed. "I saw you stumbling around last weekend." "What?! I haven't had a drink in over a month!" She just giggles, obviously my proclamations of sobriety are in vain. Yes, the Lexapro has made me loose. Not the grey goose, as Fergie would contest. But me, I've been a Lime and Tonic girl as of late. These remarks, made unintentionally and innnocently are a realization of just how far I have to go.

So I plunge into my work and my relationships. Commiting 10 hour days and more of myself than to which I am accustomed. But I am finding that both are good for me. Both physically and emotionally.

Sometimes I feel like the little engine that could, just chug chug chuggin' along on my bicycle, clearing my head as I ride home in the full moon to my BQ that is ridiculously crowded with dh and all that I adore, but I am happy.

I don't know the last time I said that.

I thought last night that it must be so amazing being a young child here, because there are so many open hands and smiling faces. It's like that if you're an adult, too.

Jane Says "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine (know what? I just typed 'shit' there. I am still ME.").