Turning Wine Into Water
I was high in the hot tub this morning, and it wasn’t the first time that it’s happened. I’ve found that it’s a great way to sink into my own physical awareness of being and connect to my inner thoughts in a calmer way. But only if I let it. Let me explain.
For a while now, I’ve been stuck on this idea that in order to welcome Centeredness, I must “Pivot to the Present” and use tools that allow me to stay there and experience whoever and whatever is in my midst. Difficult but true. Therefore, it requires very intentional action on my part, unfortunately. That’s why I said I must “welcome” it. It’s a verb, ya’ll. Some people may call it being mindful, so I suppose you could use that word as well. But for me, Pivoting to the Present means I’m actively choosing to leave my thoughts behind and come back into my body here in the present. And yeah, the hot tub works well for that.
You see, I can tend to find myself at the extremes of the emotional/mental spectrum at times, and to both understand that fact and accept it has taken digging into more than how I used to down a bottle of wine some nights. In the beginning of Recovery, I didn’t turn to AA, because my own gut instinct was that the rhetoric may hold me back more than propel me forward. That’s how I saw it. I don’t know if that was ignorant or genuinely brilliant, but I’m here now, so I may as well share how I got here. It’s simple to explain but took years to work through the various parts of it all. But another aspect of my healing has been educating myself on my own brain and body and understanding how, for better or for worse, I am WIRED.
Two years ago, I received a diagnosis that began to change how I saw brain, my history and how I would begin to experience and respond to everything…both the internal and the external forces that exist for us all. It would be a pivotal moment for me, giving me clarity after years of confusion when it came to my spotty history with addiction, and that was just the beginning of the unveiling.
It was ironic, because when my psychiatrist first mentioned the diagnosis, I was skeptical. Truthfully, I didn’t trust my own assessment of parts of my mental and emotional background, mostly because a lot of shame was thrown at me during the first half of my adult life. But Mike is a very perceptive and accepting partner, so I asked him about a few things. I asked him about the times when he would call me “running hot.” Yep, that’s what he called it then, and that’s what he calls it now. Times when I verbalize thoughts at a fairly rapid pace and have more innovative ideas to apply to anything and everything around me that you’d think I had been keeping them simmering until the hot tub boiled over.
And strangely enough, when I’m in this state, the hot tub is a place of intentional pause to those thoughts and ideas, because they are not welcome there. When I step in, I make a choice to be present with my body and brain and most of the time, with Mike. Simple and beautiful. But good lordy mercy me, it’s taken me a whole year to get better at the practice itself.
I drive between two houses most weeks. In Austin when Will is with me and at our lake house when he is at his father’s house. He’s my last kiddo in school, so each week I shift my focus as I cruise the I35 corridor to my home for the week, because sometimes Mike stays back at the lake where my father-in-law lives in his own house on our property. And it’s a bit crazy sometimes. The logistical aspects of life can get to me, frankly, but the lake represents coming back to Center, if in fact the Center has been lost, and it has sometimes. It just depends on my brain for the day and for the week. And when we’re at the lake, almost every morning Mike and I get in the hot tub naked with our coffee somewhere between four and five AM.
We’ve been together for almost 8 years and bought the hot tub first for our house back in Round Rock, mainly for the kids because summers during Covid were challenging when you are trying to keep 8 children entertained, but it’s become a tool that we both use to come back to Center. Sometimes together and sometimes alone. No bubbles, just calming waters. And there are rules. Yes. Rules.
At the top of the list is not talking or thinking about work. Should be simple, but it’s not. You see in the years that I haven’t been writing, I have poured more energy than was likely recommended into my professional life. Time seemed of the essence, since I didn’t begin what I would call an actual career until after my divorce at the age of 40. And after a few years of choral directing, I took a massive leap to the business world, where I’m still understanding how to use the unique strengths that come from my “atypical pedigree”. That’s what my CRO has even called my background…multiple times. That’s cool but also mildly annoying, and I’ve learned that I must advocate for the work that I’ve done and often spell out just how I achieved it. Because it’s always strategic in nature. My brain has usually gone about ten steps further than I’ve ever voiced, so I must put everything in black and white so my success isn’t seen as a pleasant accident, if you will. But there is no Work Talk allowed in the hot tub. That boundary was set by Mike, and there are times when that is incredibly challenging for me…especially when I’m running hot.
The condition itself is called Cyclothymia, or Bipolar III and is characterized by frequent shifts between highs and lows, but those periods are never major depressive or fully manic. Yeah, it’s been an interesting process of parsing through what that means for me and looking back to see how it both manifested and likely worsened throughout periods of my adulthood. And the past drinking now seems to have been inevitable when I also understand what kind of external forces were often at play during difficult times. If I was in a low, it was all too easy to give up and drown away the thoughts of dread, fear and doubt or guzzle a few glasses of wine to shut down the racing thoughts so I could sleep.
I use the word “extremes”, loosely though. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression here. I can be around people during an Up at this point, and you would have no idea. I may just appear quite animated in my delivery of a story or tell you about a new project that I’m engulfed in. Because ohhhhhh yes, for days at a time I’m engulfed in whatever has taken my focus for that period. Entire business plans fleshed out on the Notes section of my phone when I rise even earlier than the usual 4am without an alarm, newly decorated spaces within our quirky lake house outside of Waco, photography, music, work, work, work, and now thankfully back to writing. I can tend to squeeze a lot into a short amount of time, so I must work on being present with those around me and turn my energy towards connection during these days as well. Not only on the inner creations of my own brain. That would be a little selfish, yes?
And the lows? Well, at this point, I’ve got it down to a science, because that’s how I went about this all, really. I’ve researched, educated myself and studied how I feel and when the changes occur, what helps, and how to be proactive in my own emotional and psychological regulation. I mean, I already told you that I’m a strategic thinker, so after some time and focus, I now understand that a low with pass in just about 48 hours. That’s it. It will be about two days where I may easily cry while listening to music and tend to think that I’m a failure across multiple areas of my life. Ha! But ain’t that all of us, sometimes? I mean, really.
I can make it through any workday, but intentionally clear my calendar of external facing meetings, have conversations with Will after school, order take out because cooking would be WAY too much and turn down social engagements. And all of that is okay. I can function normally to an onlooker, because I use tools that help me Pivot to the Present. I’m surrounded by goodness all the time. This, I know. My kiddo, my close friends, music, Mike, physical touch, chicken tenders with ranch for 48 hrs straight. That’s really it. And I give myself some fucking Grace, because we’re all doing our best to live healthfully and find meaning in every day. We all have internal issues and external forces that make up these little lives that we lead, and for me, my lot in life is to deal with about 2 days out of just about every month where it’s best that I be a couch potato if I’m not working or mothering. And yeah, I may cry intermittently and think that nothing I do is good enough, but logically I absolutely know that it will pass. That’s what my studies have shown. And I can do just about anything for 48 hours.
And then, before I know it, I wake up and the dread has passed. Those are amazing mornings each and every time, and I relish those weeks of normalcy that I know lie ahead.
I should likely take a moment and talk about the drugs. That’s always the question these days. Am I being medically treated for this condition? The truth is that yes, I was for the first year. I started taking a mood stabilizer, and it helped me achieve longer periods of emotional stasis, but it also affected my creative output. My particular brand of bipolar does not bring full on manic states, but I know of others who would say the same about being medicated, especially if they are bipolar I or II. With cyclothymia, many or most of us go undiagnosed for years, because we seem to function normally. And it likely is not a surprise that a high percentage of us have wrestled with addiction and have trauma as part of our history as well. But the condition itself can be exacerbated in times of stress, so I keep that pill in my back pocket, if you will. I still have situations that threaten my stability, so the time may come to make a different choice. It just depends on the internal and external forces at play.
Was I born with it? Oh, who knows, we’re all just a messy mix of our own genetic dispositions crashing into environmental influences every minute of the day. Right? I don’t really worry about how and where my own quirks started. I just appreciate the fact that I’m working through it all, because a lot of truly beautiful people are counting on me to do so. Mike and the kids, first and foremost. They want the best of me and for me, so I take the responsibility seriously. At least one of them is strikingly like me, so yeah, I’d rather be able to pass on Wisdom and not Woe. And there are perks of this condition that can be seen as a superpower. Creativity being one, so I’ll never say that I wish I didn’t have to deal with it.
When I look back on my essays from four years ago, I can FEEL the different states I was in when I wrote each one. I can remember in a tangible way, each morning and how I felt in my body and in my brain. Strange, but true. There are certain pieces where I see me trying to minimize the adjectives and verbs, and others, where I can sense the sadness that fueled a metaphor. I almost never wrote during a low, and likely rarely ever will moving forward. It’s just not a time where I put massive expectations on myself, and that keeps me safe.
I still don’t drink, and right now, I’m not on any drugs. Whether I’m high or low, I prefer to be naked in the hot tub with acoustic music playing and the morning stars overhead. Aesthetic experiences help me pivot to the present, so I’ll use that this morning. Mike is with me, and we’re connected and free.
And thank the lord almighty that understanding my brain has helped me perform miracles on a daily basis. That’s what I did this very morning. I turned Wine into Water, and I’m soaking in it for as long as I can.
Here’s a writing from a low. Written back in 2020, before I understood what was happening:
