Epic Pinterest Fail to Finding My Joy

Have you ever looked around at your life and everything was perfect? I mean, you have it all. You have the family, the career, the house, etc. You checked all of the boxes. You, on paper, are complete. You look around at all that you have and all that you are incredibly grateful for, and still something is not right. Something is blocking you from getting to the joy. You’re happy enough. You aren’t depressed or anything. You just do not know joy. Pure joy. You read about it. You start to think that it is made up. Like a fairy tale and “happily ever after.” Joy must be fiction.

You have all of the right ingredients for a great life, but the recipe keeps turning out like a Pinterest fail. You know the ones. The cakes that just didn’t quite look like the image on Pinterest you were striving for. You followed the damn recipe to a T, but somehow it just didn’t work the way you planned. The cake is pretty good. It is edible. It will work. But you know there is something just not right about it.

That is how my life was before I kicked the booze.

It was 2019 and all hell broke loose. I was married…to a man…a weird time in my life. I was miserable. Nothing he was doing was wrong. He was just not with the right person, and I knew it by then. I had a couple of moments with someone that I had stored away on a shelf in my mind as impossible. This person could never and would never be the one. Those feelings were not allowed. So, I bottled them up and corked that bottle for safe-keeping. I placed it on the shelf and tried like hell to forget about it.

March 1st - The Uncorking

That night was like many other nights. I was at a local bar with friends. I was waiting for one person to get there. She was late. Unusually late. When she finally arrived, she and her husband bought two shots, took them, and then he left. I knew something was up, but there was another person there so I had to wait to ask the questions.

Finally, it was just us (mind you, I had been there for about 4 hours now drinking wine like water). She confided that she was getting a divorce. But why?!?! I exclaimed. “I’m gay.” Oh….k. Wow. Ok. Swallow. Breathe. Blink. Ok. Say words Amanda. Be cool.

We started talking about it, and my heart was racing. My stomach was in knots. The bottle was uncorking without my consent. It was her. She was the one. Shit!

Fast forward a couple of months, we have made the commitment. The big one. The life commitment. She had four children and I had none. We were making it work. Our husbands were soon to be ex-husbands. They were supportive. They were not surprised like the rest of the world. I was so unbelievably happy. But…

But…I was drinking. I was drinking a lot. During this time, we all were drinking to deal. We had so much change to manage and deal with that it felt nearly impossible. We were surviving. We were drinking to survive. It wasn’t too crazy. We were just going through so much. Any and all advice we got from any and everyone was to have a glass of wine, another beer, take a shot. From friends, family, coworkers, and bosses. “Just have a beer.” That would help. And it did for a while.

Later that year, when our marriages ended and were dissolved. We decided to make it official. The political climate was heating up and to be honest, we were not sure how long it would be even legal in Ohio to get married. So, we decided we had waited long enough to be truly happy. We decided to celebrate our love with our most trusted and important people. We got married! March 1, 2020. To this day, I cannot say, “we got married!” without a big dumb grin creeping onto my face.

Less than two weeks later, the world shut down. Our whole lives were uprooted again! This time, we had to hide. Just when we were starting to feel comfortable to go out again and show off our love, we were forced into lockdown. And you guessed it…the drinking spiraled. My “happy hours” got earlier and earlier. My job was getting more and more stressful. The pressure to perform at work, transform into a full-time mother of four, a new wife, an out-lesbian, managing my past trauma (childhood, infertility, divorce), were absolutely getting the best of me. Procrastination became my go-to coping mechanism. Which as you may be thinking, made the pressures at work much worse.

Who is this girl looking back at me?

Until 2019, I was an educator, an educational administrator, a wife, and wanting to become a mother more than anything in the world. By the summer of 2020, I was so much more. I was a completely different person and I was lost. While finding my dream come true, I lost myself. I describe this time as the worst-best time in my life. I had finally checked all of the boxes. I found the love of my life (she’s quite the catch). I had become a mother to four beautiful children (oh my…four…all at once). I had the career I had been working for my entire adulthood. On paper, I had it all. All of the ingredients were there for a Pinterest perfect life.

But the wine started to take root. Slowly wine became the solace I was looking for in the chaos that surrounded our lives. After the third glass, I felt like me again. I felt the warmth of the wine like a blanket. Nice and cozy. Safe. Numb. I will deal with it all later. That feeling is tomorrow’s problem.

My first round of sobriety was rough. I had just changed jobs. I left the position that drained my soul. I knew I needed a restart and with the support of my new wife, I left administration and went back to the classroom. Given it was a mid-year move, the placement wasn’t ideal, but it was better than I had it before. But the anxiety was still present. Better, but still present. I was still not feeling the joy. I thought if I got out from under the pressures of that position, I would finally be able to breathe. I would be able to enjoy my new life. I was wildly mistaken that the position was the only thing holding me back from attaining my joy.

In January 2021, I was faced with the ugly truth that the wine had taken over control. The wine was helping me until it was not. One night, the wine let my guard down and showed my inner anger. I needed to find more control over my emotions. These emotions needed to stay locked up. This was all too much to show to others. I needed to take back my life. I spent 40 something days white-knuckling it to stay dry (I use “dry” to describe time not drinking, but I was not emotionally sober). During that time, I felt raw and sharp. The slightest movement would set me off. My skin felt prickly.

At the first chance I got, I used the excuse to drink again. Our anniversary, her birthday, and valentine's day all wrapped up in a beautiful weekend away. Of course, I would drink! How else would we celebrate? So, I dipped my toe back in the water and it was so warm….

Splash!

Oh….It’s the alcohol…

I dove head first into the deep end of the big pool of alcohol. I changed jobs again, and was hoping this new change would be the one to fix me. By October 2021, I was severely depressed. My anxiety was at an all time high. Most days were coffee until I was finally off work. So, by 3:30pm I had downed my first glass of wine. I began drinking two bottles of wine a night around that time. My 3 am “scaries” were amplified and my blood pressure became out of control again. I was in and out of the doctor's office. One thing after another was ailing me. I was a mess.

On paper, I had checked all the boxes. I had all of the ingredients, but this time around this was an ultimate Pinterest fail. One for the books. I began to spend more and more time at home. If I had to leave the house for something other than work, I would drink. I would drink before, during and after. I was embracing the “mommy wine culture” all the way. Mommy sippy cup? Yes, please! I kept telling myself that I would slow down soon. I just needed time to adjust to another change. I told myself almost everyday when I would wake up with another hangover that I would drink less today. I would tell myself this and know I was lying.

I still think about that third glass of wine as it washes into my system. The warm glow that fills my body. I still think about that feeling. But now, I know that feeling is the biggest lie of it all. When I told myself that feeling was joy, that was the lie of all lies. It wasn’t until about two months into my recovery that I truly understood how much I had come to believe in this lie. The first time I truly felt real joy I knew I had been so wrong. So devastatingly wrong.

By October 2022 (another trip around the sun), I felt I was losing my mind. My mental health was deteriorating rapidly. My physical health was in a close second right behind. I couldn’t go a day without wine. I was in the depths of addiction and had no idea how to get out. I imagine those days like the scene in the Disney portrayal of Hercules when Meg gives her life for him. She is swimming in a deep dark pool of death. That is how my life felt. I had everything I had ever wanted, but I was still miserable. Even more miserable than before the 2019 Big Bang. I couldn’t sleep. I was barely eating, but gaining weight like it was my job. I started to feel like life was not for me. I felt like a burden to my family. I was always sick and tired. I was weighing them down.

When the suicidal thoughts started to increase, I knew I had to do something. But I had no idea how or where to start. It was not clear until Monday, October 24, 2022. That day, I decided to reach out for help. I decided to give up alcohol. I got real with myself and made the best decision of my life. I called an intensive treatment program, and began the process toward recovery. And after that right decision, I made the next right decision. And the next. By Friday, October 28, 2022, I was completely alcohol free. My first sober day. Day one.

So, if you find yourself in a similar spot. You are searching for joy, but always seem to be coming up short. You may want to look at how alcohol is standing in your way of happiness. In my upcoming posts, I will be sharing my first few months experiences and how I found my joy without alcohol. Stay tuned….