Genesis

I have to explain myself less and less these days.

It’s not that I’m surrounded by people who don’t judge, although I am. It’s just that I don’t feel the need to explain myself. I am myself. I hear people all the time say “I’m just me and if you don’t like it, fuck you.” I don’t have the energy and anger for fuck you if you don’t like me. If you don’t like me, just …meh. I feel like, recently, I’ve been feeling my gratefuls. I have a job I love (although its stressful), a family I love, a little boy I just adore, a husband who I love, and who loves me enough to stay and work through the problems, true commitment. That gooey stuff is for the birds, man.

But mostly, I’m just grateful I found out who I am.

I have less time for bullshit. Like , REALLY. The other day I completely shut down a co-worker who was out of line, in an appropriate way, without even thinking about it. There was a time when I would have a) lost my temper and cursed him out, or b) burst into tears, depending on the mood I was in. I just told him to stop yelling at me and go do his job. He did. It was seamless. I was really proud of myself and surprised by myself at the same time.



For the past few days or so, especially today, I have been incredibly grateful for the fact that I didn’t get arrested when I did (most) of the stupid shit I did. I did get arrested once, when I was much younger, but I managed to get diversion and no criminal record.

But a specific incident has been playing in my mind, over and over. There was a time I was on my way home from Marina Del Rey, that I could have very easily lost everything I have today, before I even had it. I was pretty drunk, as I usually was in those days, and yes I was driving. I refused to crash at anyone’s house back then. I had good reason though. The one time I did, I was raped. So I just never did it again, even though it meant driving drunk.

Well, this time I hit someone. Like, I didn’t see the car or something, and he was stopped in front of me (why was he stopped in a driving lane when there was no red light? Don’t know). He got out, inspecting the damage. There was none, it was a fender bender. He could have easily called the police anyway. He didn’t. He did, however, tell me I smelled like beer and asked me if I was drunk, to which I said “No, I’m fine.” My curt response is probably the only reason he didn’t go any further. If I admitted that I had been drinking, he might have offered to take me home, and we’ve been there before.

Let’s just say I have a high tolerance for sedation. Not for alcohol, mind you, I have a pretty low tolerance for alcohol. But for the sedating effects of alcohol, I used to rarely feel them. I had been on sedatives since I was 19 or 20 because of the PTSD and unless I had double vision (and sometimes even then, sorry Mom, I’M ALIVE THOUGH), I could drive. Theoretically.

That was a close call. Let’s leave out all of the horrible things that could have happened when I was driving drunk (killing people, killing myself) and say that in that instance, no one was hurt, but had he called the police, I would have been arrested. Hands down. I would not work where I do. I would not have worked where I did then. I could not work in my field in most cases. Whatever that was, it was God/the Universe’s loud voice going “STOP THIS FOOLISHNESS, YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO WORK WITH KIDS.” I always envision the Universe sounding like my one of my old bosses, strangely. The one who went up to a bulimic girl and said “Do you like your teeth? THEN STOP,” and called that treatment. It was kind of beautiful, but still.

I’m sure, despite the God/Universe intervening, that that was not the last time it happened, although I can’t remember (WONDER WHY). Did I wake up and go “Holy Shit that was close,”? I don’t remember, probably for a second. But that’s substance abuse for you. The fear of consequences don’t necessarily make you stop doing it.

I can tell you I don’t have the relationship with alcohol that I used to. I rarely drink, and when I do, it’s never to cover up an emotion, or to run from an issue. I’m sure my drinking buddies back then knew that’s what I was doing to some extent. I’m a big girl, and I can own my own behavior. I do, daily. But ask me what I say to the kids on my caseload when they call the dude that gets high with them a friend. Anybody that works or is in recovery from substance abuse knows, but I wouldn’t want to hurt any feelings.

I think that the tone of this is to acknowledge that I love who I am today, and who I have today, and there isn’t really much of anything that I want for. I’m not skinny, but I don’t really care anymore. I’m not rich, but I don’t really want to be. I’m not going out every night partying, but when I did that, it got old. I love just being most times. And what I love I’m going to keep doing.