Posts Tagged ‘emotional hangover’

Cures For The Every Day

July 18, 2016

Emotional hang over.

Get eight hours of sleep.

Get up and drink cold brewed iced coffee from the last of the Mojo Coffee I brought back from New Orleans.

Go to yoga.

Cry on the mat.

A lot.

Then do the fucking pose.

Breathe.

Do it again.

Go home.

Shower.

Realize that it doesn’t matter that I am terrorized to have confrontation.

Will do it anyway.

Finding over the course of the day as I focus less and less on the “problem” and more and more on the solution, that it will work itself out.

Even though I am afraid.

That’s ok.

Be afraid.

Just don’t not take any action.

Today’s actions also included meeting with two ladies back to back and doing some reading and sharing experience, hope, strength, faith versus fear, and lots of letting go.

I had a nice breakfast too.

More coffee as well.

Did some writing.

Wrote a really long gratitude list in which I also expressed being grateful for the challenges in my life as I get to grow from them and through them.

Get my ducks in a row and then headed out to the MOMA to visit with a couple of friends and get a dual membership.

Seriously.

This is the way to go.

My friend and I split the dual membership which is $150 for the year.

So, $75 a piece and I can go any time I want for the next year.

Considering that a one time ticket to the museum is $25 I’ll pay it off in two more visits.

Plus.

I get to bring in 2 people with me as visitors.

So.

You want to get your MOMA on.

Let me know.

Even if I just go down and get you in and do a gallery or two, I figure that may happen once in a while, pop in, just see a few things and pop out.

Plus.

The place is huge.

They really added onto it and it’s now 7 floors of art.

So much scrumptious, delicious, devastating art.

I was so happy.

I got to see some of my favorites from the permanent collection that I always love to see–Warhol’s Triple Elvis, of course the various Marilyn’s, the Dolly Parton’s too, so good.

Rothko.

Gerhard Richter.

Hopper.

All the Calder pieces, so many!

Diane Arbus photographs.

And the Oculus bridge!

I was so happy to see that they kept that part of the museum.

It is one of my favorite bits and I walked across it happy in the moment and also softly aware of the moments prior when I walked it first.

That being back in 2000.

Wow.

Sixteen years of going to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

I have always had a membership since I moved here in 2002.

Excepting while it was closed for the renovation.

My information was still in their system and it was a lovely little trip down memory lane layered with so much gratitude.

See.

I used to work down town, at Hawthorne Lane, which is now Benu I believe, and I used to go to the MOMA cafe on my way into work and sit in front of the museum and smoke cigarettes and drink lattes and people watch.

A lot of times I was also recovering from a hang over.

Or I was still high from the night before.

I used the bathrooms all the time.

But.

I never used in them.

I couldn’t ever bring myself to.

It was sacrilegious.

It was my church.

Art still is my church.

Museums are where I go to commune with God.

Get high on art.

I just couldn’t do it.

I don’t recall a single time being able to allow myself to do it.

I didn’t have a problem using the bathrooms at the park across the street, or at Starbucks on 3rd and Howard, or at the Metreon.

Fuck.

I could get high all over the city.

The W Hotel bar right there on the corner.

Or.

Dave’s sports Bar on 3rd at Market.

But the MOMA?

Fuck no.

I just couldn’t do it.

And I was so grateful to know that my bastion of art and love was never tainted with that.

Granted I don’t have a problem going places I have used before, but I am quite grateful that I never did there.

It was sort of like how I felt about music.

When I first was in the club scene here in the city I was all about the ecstasy and the cocaine and the dancing and the getting out.

But.

Eventually I didn’t enjoy it anymore.

Spending too much time in the bathrooms and not enough time on the dance floor.

Or.

Just wanting, desperately to be home in my room before the sun came up so that I could use the way I wanted to use without anyone bearing witness to it.

It was not a good scene.

And.

Eventually I couldn’t even use at home with the music on.

It got real quiet.

And.

Real uncomfortable.

Real fucking fast.

All the small reminders as I was downtown, which is a different downtown than it was eleven and a half years ago, but still, plenty of sense memories to recall and remember and to get to be at the MOMA.

A place, one of the first places, I went to when I first came to SF in 2000, that I revered and loved and still do.

So much.

It was an honor and a privilege to buy my membership.

Despite my fears of financial insecurity.

Despite my over magnifying mind trying to blow up a simple boundary request at work into a scenario where I am homeless and alone living with a feral cat in the park.

I got to amend my behavior.

I got to drop a few bucks and make good on my promise to live this day fully, with love and presence and the gift of being there with friends and running into my sweet Parisian friend from school and her husband.

I am so graced.

And.

I don’t have an emotional hang over at all.

It dissipated in the groundswell of gratitude flooding my heart.

Happy.

Joyous.

And oh.

So.

Very.

Very.

Very.

Free.

 

Up & Down

June 24, 2013

I breathed deeply in the car and tried to stifle the tears.

They fucking slid off my face anyway.

I apologized to my friend, “I am super sensitive right now and feel like a raw nerve, I’m sorry.”

I’m going through withdrawal.

You don’t care, don’t believe, or think I bats, but there’s plenty of evidence, not my own, that sugar withdrawal is like drug withdrawal.

Alcohol is predominately sugar.

Studies link the dopamine receptors that cocaine stimulates to be the same ones that sugar hits.  I love me some alcohol, some cocaine, and some sugar.

Except for the come down.

I know this time around the detox will be easier, but I am moody and I am sensitive and I do feel frayed around the edges.

Yesterday I thought, Jesus I must be hormonal, I forgot that just a few days back I had 48 hours of sugar and processed white flour (ie sugar) in intense amounts, ie I had a big ole binge on that  shit.

I had forgotten that there was going to be a little time necessary to get my equilibrium back and I really feel like I walked through the worst of it today.

Not so much with physical or mental cravings, those actually passed relatively quick, but with my emotions.  I felt a bit depressed and a bit like withdrawing.  Add that to my already typical isolationist perfectionist I can do it on my own tendency and there she goes down the rabbit hole.

I was in some social situations today that I felt like I was on another planet.

I felt on the outside, unloved, unliked, and rather alone.

Now, this is not true, I was none of these, and I could finally after some service to the situation, tidy here, pick up there, step into the bathroom and breathe in deeply, I was able to actually let go and enjoy what was happening.

It was fun!

But it was hours in before I realized that I was actually enjoying myself when I was getting out-of-the-way.

Plus it was a clothing swap!

I only had a few things to put into the pile, but they went quick and I was happy to see the folks that took what I had brought to the party really liked them (two articles of clothing that I had been given in Paris that no matter how hard I tried were not a good fit for me) and were glowing when they wore them.

That felt wonderful.

Then I got into the mix and what do you know, I found some stuff.

Some of which I had hand-picked out for me, “Carmen, this is so you,” and what do you know, it was!  I got to get my clothing needs met, and got to be of service and get out of my emotional way.

Of course it came back.

When I was hungry.

Thank god my friend was able to ask me what I needed and we stopped at a little market in Glenn Park.

Sidebar–Glenn Park how cute are you?

I slammed a cup of coffee, grabbed a low-fat unsweetened one serving tub of Greek yogurt, a banana, and a sugar-free protein bar.

I ate, felt my body chemistry swing back to normal and drank some water.

Which is what I keep reminding myself to do, drink more water, you will feel better.

Pause for sip of tea followed by bubbly water.

Man I love me some bubbly water, can I just put that on tap please?

My friend and I headed out to Maxfield’s and got some tea and then I got to see more folks and check in with an old friend I had not seen in a while and my friend and I had just an amazing talk, compassionate, sweet, wise.

I have said it before, I will say it again, I am so blessed to have the women in my life that I do.

Seriously blessed.

“Carm, you got to own it,” my friend said to me, “look at that hair, you’re exotic, love it, be happy with you, you don’t have to become anything, you are ok.”

I always have this idea that when I get there I will be fine.

Except the there always is moving.

I am going to be fine just here.

Just now.

Just right.

I am in a flying blind part of my life, but I have support underpinning it all, and when I realized that I was just in a really tender, sensitive place, I was actually able to work through it.

With some guidance and sweet words and insights from my friend.

Who also said, “he is NOT married,” when I saw some one who smiled and waved from across the street.

“You’re back!” He hollered and waved.

I wasn’t sure if he meant my friend or myself, both of us have been outside of San Francisco on and off for a little while now.

But when he came up to me directly an hour later and gave me a big hug and shined at me, I thought, boy howdy, good to know you’re not married.

“Hey,” I said as he walked away, grabbing his hand with a squeeze and pressing a folded up piece of paper into it, “I always thought you were married.”

“Nope,” he smiled, “I’m not.”

“Well that’s good news,” I said and grinned back, “that’s my number, call me if you ever want to have a coffee and hang out.”

He smiled back and walked ahead to catch up with his friends.

Who knows what will come of that, but it felt nice to do.

With every down there is an up.

Thank God I can see what has been happening and thank god I have friends who tolerate my crazy.

Just got to walk through a few more days of sugar detox and I’ll go back to the regularly scheduled brand of crazy.

Thank you for putting up with me until then.

 


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