I love you. Now...goodbye.

This piece has been a long time coming, and my hope is that tomorrow I will feel as resolutely as I do sitting here this morning. 

It feels like it’s TIME.  And it feels like a resting decision must be made, to clear the way for…something new.  Something different.  I don’t exactly know what that something is quite yet, as I’m still working through where my thoughts and ideas are leading, but I do know this.  I always figure it out.  I don’t question the Calls when they come anymore.  I listen and respond. 

I have come to this same decision a dozen times or so before, but then inspiration would hit…and I’d end up posting again…even if I doubted myself the next day.  But MOSTLY, I told myself that I would not end the blog, until I had the courage to write about WHY I am leaving it…with honesty.

So that’s what this is.

When I was little, my brother used to do this “thing”.  There is no descriptive verb for it, but what he’d do is take my own hand and use THAT hand to hit me.  Not hard, just a gentle thwack…meant to simply annoy, not to actually cause pain.  He is three years older and was over six foot by the start of high school, so as you can imagine, this was fairly easy to get me to do.  It never hurt all too much, but What He Said when he did this, reminds me of my feelings surrounding this blog.

He’d always ask me the same question.  “Why are you hitting yourself?”  And then repeating the motion over and over, repeat that same question again and again.  “Huh, Jen?  Why are you hitting yourself?”

With a mixture of emotions, I can say that posting on this blog has been a little like that.  The negative parts pester me.  They place Nice most of the time, but sometimes it feels like I’m not the one in control of what hits me, right?  Sometimes it is from outside forces that I just don’t have full control over.  And while it isn’t debilitating, it does have an effect on me.

I cannot say that I’m always over the moon about what I’ve written, but I can always stand by my honesty and positive intent for its reading.  As you have probably figured out, I can be pretty bold.  So…if I’m in a good mood, I’m not offended when fewer people read or when no one really comments or when I have stats that people read it, but there’s only 6 thumbs ups.  Yep.  Most of the time, that is really okay.  But I also get offended and wish that I had never put myself out there to begin with.  Unfortunately, society comes and smacks me in the face with reality…that I don’t always write to make you feel good, nor am I posting it on a forum that strongly supports real and true reflections of who we are as humans. 

There are so very many times that I said “Fuck It.”  This phrase can mean one of two things.  In both cases, it means that whatever we are about to embark on carries risk and we know it.  But sometimes we mean it positively, and sometimes we mean it negatively.  If we say it right before we skydive, it’s meant as our last statement of hope that everything is going to turn out alright.  We use the words to denounce fear and physically commit to the activity.  On the other hand, we also say “Fuck It” when we have committed to giving up.  We have already fought hard, and we are just tired of the struggle. 

At this present moment, I mean it in both ways.  I am giving up the blog as my medium for writing, but I’m truly excited about what mental and emotional bandwidth may be created in its absence.

I am a singer.  Most things come to me in song, but when I first considered being an advocate in recovery, I chose NOT to sing about it.  In my estimation, that would have been manipulative.  Nope.  That neither seemed appropriate, nor did it align with my true goal.  Because a song doesn’t tell you the whole story.  Music plays on your emotions, and that is precisely what I wanted to avoid…all of the emotion surrounding addiction.  And also…the absence of details and the metaphors of doubt and the focus on the extremes of trials or triumph. 

Melodies of emotion may bring Kumbaya moments, but most of the real learning didn’t happen around any campfire of hope.  Most of it happened when I was alone and present and committed to understanding my own thoughts and behaviors, as well as the thoughts and behaviors of others.

We read headlines about celebrities and we hear of the suicide or the arrest or the rehab, and then we shelve those stories until someone dies or they have just starred in an award-winning film, when any two-minute account of their addiction struggles seems to insinuate that they have now…OVERCOME.  Yeah, well…that may or may not be the case.  Honestly, we’ll never know the whole story.  That is the problem.  We only hear about the dramatic downfalls and the triumphant returns, but the daily, yearly, and sometimes lifelong struggles or progress are unknown and often misunderstood.  They don’t make the pages of People magazine until there’s a climax or a conclusion. 

I may have only reached a few hundred people, but I hope I have challenged your perception of both addiction and recovery…what kind of person is capable of both…how our thoughts and beliefs shape our behaviors...and what mindful presence may actually look and sound like. 

I hope my honesty has meant something to you and you have taken on the same challenge in your own life.  I hope I have shown that we all must be able to have the “uncomfortable conversations” that plague our society and keep us up at night.  Presenting Quotables and Emojis isn’t a real commitment to discourse.  That’s just too easy, friends.  It takes commitment to working through the confusion to get to where we want to be and dedication to accepting who we are at any given moment and working hard for who we want to be as individuals, families, communities and as a country.  

I’ll leave you with one last metaphor: You KNOW how I love metaphors.

Growing up, I always loved a good potluck.  My hometown church would have them on a regular basis, and I would stand in line, patiently waiting to make it close enough to peer down the table to view the smorgasbord of options.  It was the 80’s, so the Kentucky Fried Chicken bucket was always an obvious winner.  That contributor was really just lazy, but we all know they were also our Hero.  My parents made me wait for them to make it to the Fellowship Hall, so by the time I finally made it through the line, I rarely ever got a piece.  But besides this singular protein choice, I always went for ALL the carbs...casserole dishes filled with anything white and covered in cheese, usually.  Potatoes.  Pasta.  More potatoes.  More pasta.  And then I’d grab a few green beans, still in casserole form, and put them on my plate to appease my mother.  But I never actually ate them.  Nah, that was all for show.  I had no intention of wasting my gastric space with such offerings. 

But I was always surprised at those few people who brought healthy offerings to that over-indulgent table.  Didn’t they KNOW that no one really wanted to eat that?  Well, yeah.  They knew it wouldn’t be as popular, but I suppose they also knew that the few who actually ate their dish would appreciate their effort and commitment to feeding us healthily.

Yep.  I’m pretty sure that’s what I’ve been doing here for the last sixteen months.  I’ve been bringing my healthy greens to Facebook, hoping that each time I bring the casserole, more people will actually try it.  I think it’s pretty good.  My hope is that you’re going home feeling satisfied that you’ve consumed more than carbs covered in cheese.  Well, I hope so.

I’ll keep making my casserole.  I really like the recipe, and I have fun when I’m in the kitchen.  I sing while I cook and I try to use the ingredients creatively, but I do think it’s time to take my dish to another gathering.  Perhaps I won’t go home with as many leftovers. 

I consider it a redirection of my time, effort, and creativity.  I wonder what endeavors may lead me to new gatherings?  Am I cooking for myself or for others?  What is the end goal?  I’ve tried a lot of varied activities in my life thus far, and I’ve chosen to leave many of those as well.  But for the most part, my mistake wasn’t in the LEAVING, it was in NOT considering how I was being FED by whatever the activity was.  When I shut down my floral design business, I didn’t replace it with something of equal value.  Yeah, well.  I suffered for that…mentally, emotionally, and psychologically.  Evidently, my monkey mind needs quite a lot to focus on, and not only accepting that, but EMBRACING that fact…has been much of my recovery work.  It’s even very likely that the writing came about, because I wasn’t singing or teaching.  Yep.  Creativity and connection just sprang new roots.

Therefore…this time, I’ll take what I’ve learned here and apply it elsewhere.  Philanthropically and Creatively.  I’ll make sure that I’m being fed healthily by where and how I spend my time and effort, and I’ll continue to give of myself for others.

Next week, I’ll ring in two years on this journey of discovery…and sixteen months of writing about it.  I uncovered psychological abuse, talents I denied, and even found a Rooster along the way.  Who knows what may happen tomorrow, but rest assured…I’ll rise early tomorrow looking within to find the peace that awaits us all.

I am deeply indebted to those of you who have supported my writing so graciously. 

Your words have kept me going throughout this experiment, and your love has filled me with pride. 

You have exemplified the acceptance and grace that is needed to overcome the silence and shame that surrounds addiction. 

That burden doesn’t just fall on the addict.  It is everyone’s responsibility.

I am proud of my effort and commitment to truth and transparency.  It was not always easy but writing in this way for a prolonged period of time has changed me as a communicator.  It’s changed me as a mother, wife, friend and thoughtful human being.  I now rise most mornings, already thinking in prose, and that’s a healthy thing, because it translates into thorough thought processing. 

“Use your words, Jen”.  That’s what I often told myself. 

And in doing so, I found a bold, little voice…worthy to be reckoned with.  In my personal case, that was just as crucial as deciding not to gulp down five glasses of Chardonnay some nights.  It meant that I took control of my own narrative and started to tell my own story, denouncing the voices of rhetoric and doubt. 

While going to rehab was a part of my history, AA has not been part of my answer.  I don’t recommend that for everyone, because WE are not all the same.  I believe antiquated rhetoric is holding us back in many ways, and NO, I do not consider my present condition a lifelong DISEASE.  There are complicated questions and even more complicated answers, but to not keep trying would be to think that we’ve already got it all figured out.  Surely you doubt that.

We are all capable of unhealthy behaviors.  And we are all capable of correcting them.

Be aware of your surroundings and the people you welcome into your life.  They may be feeding you, or they could be taking from you.

We are all capable of unusual and great things, so be bold and just a little bit risky, if you dare. 

Be creative and fearless with your own efforts to live a truthful and transparent life.  I promise that you will be rewarded.  

Cook up something REAL NICE.  Make sure that it has healthy greens in it.   And bring everything that you are…to the table.