Cheers

The thoughts that will soon pour onto this page have been rumbling through my head for going on 8 months now. One minute, I want to shout this from the rooftop and another I feel like it’s no one’s damn business besides my own. For a few months, I’d come to terms with the idea that this was not an announcement worth making to the internet but after hours upon days upon months of careful consideration, I have come to realize just how important this next sentence could be not only for myself, but anyone else who reads it.

I am an alcoholic.

Two years ago, driving home from a baby shower, wasted, I totaled my car. The following day I stepped into the rooms of a well-known 12-Step meeting for the first time ever. Unfortunately, that stint didn’t stick. I lasted a whopping 32 days in the rooms before I decided my relationship with alcohol was not yet over. I went back to the 12 Steps about a year late for approximately 1 week. Yet again, I wasn’t ready to be sober. It wasn’t until April 10th of 2019 that I decided I needed those 12 Steps in my life and was ready to stop drinking. This time, nothing as catastrophic or crazy happened. Nothing other than I’d had yet another guy tell me that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with me and I decided to numb the pain that comes with a breakup with a bottle (or two) of wine. Downing an entire bottle+ of wine per night was becoming a fairly normal part of my daily routine. I might go a day or two throughout the week where I’d only have a glass or two, but a bottle didn’t last in my home much longer than 24 hours.

When I realized how bad my drinking had gotten, I had this very odd outer body experience where I could see myself sitting on the couch, slouched over from being so drunk. I could see how pale green and droopy my skin was. It had happened a couple of times in the past 2-3 years where I’d start vomiting in my sleep; sometimes someone was there to wake me up, and at least once, no one was there but someone or something was watching over me and I’d be lying on my side and the vomit would land on the floor rather than choking me to death. I knew if I didn’t stop drinking, it was only a matter of time where someone would find me in a pool of my own vomit (or worse) after a night of out of control drinking.

The first 3 months of sobriety were such a rollercoaster. One minute, I’d feel on top of the world and would want to tell everyone I knew that I was getting sober and wanted to help anyone I could from ever consuming a drop of alcohol ever again. Then there would be times where I would scream cry in rage at the fact that I’d had such a rough, frustrating day and I couldn’t relieve those feelings with a glass (or bottle) of Trader Joe’s two buck chuck (my personal drink of choice).

There are certain things one is not supposed to talk about as it pertains to previously mentioned well known 12-Step program  and while I respect the principles that Bill has put in place for us drunks, if it weren’t for my other sober friends being so open about their sobriety, I don’t know that I would have had it in me to even make it to my first meeting [back]. Which is exactly why these words are out in the open for you and anyone else to read. I hope that if anyone I know (or don’t know) is struggling with addiction, you read this knowing that you are not alone, and that sobriety isn’t as bad as you might think.

Thank you to the people I knew from my past who have been open about their substance abuse issues (and their recovery), you helped get me here today. To the family I’ve been able to open up to about this, thank you for loving me in spite of the hot mess I was and will undoubtedly continue to be, even through sobriety. To the people who were hurt as a result of my drinking, I’m sorry. I owe a great deal of people a longer more thoughtful apology and hope to have the opportunity to do that someday.

To anyone reading this who has ever tried or even just considered getting sober, I hope for your sake as well as all of your loved ones around you, that you can find the strength. I won’t lie to you, some days are really, really hard. Some days you’re going to want to say, “fuck it”, and go pick up the bottle. But when you’re ready to fight back against all of that and try this way of life, even if it’s just one day at a time, I will be here for you if you need a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, someone to yell at or laugh with… Whatever you might be feeling in that moment.

Not every day is sunshine and roses now just because I quit drinking. But as I sit here and write this on the 255th day of my sobriety, all I have is gratitude for everything that led me here and infinite gratitude for everything that has kept me here.

If you were someone who needed to read these words to have the courage to walk into a meeting, I’m thankful this hit home for you. If you are a normy who doesn’t need to work a program to keep your drinking at bay, say a prayer for the rest of us who do need this and be thankful it’s kept us alive.

My BII Story

Since I was a young girl, as long as I can remember, all I ever wanted was big boobs.
I got such a schmorgus bord of my parents genes, but the Corbett boobs was not one the good lord blessed me with. It didn't matter to me how many times my big breasted friends would say things like, "you do NOT want big boobs", I didn't believe them and always felt like the grass was greener on their side of the yard.

For approximately a decade, I'd meet with different doctors to determine if they were the ones I'd trust with my hard earned money and my life, to implant me with these magnificent lumps. For a variety of reason, I never pulled the trigger... Until 2015 when I decided that enough was enough and I wasn't going to wait until after I had kids when at that point (and still), it was looking like kids may never happen for me.

When I look at my pre-op and post-op before/after pictures that were taken within 10 days of each other, I already see a noticeable difference in my waistline. I even remember looking at the photo with my doctor afterwards and saying, "wow, I've already gained weight just from a couple of weeks without exercising". He shrugged my comment off and gave me info on when I could start exercising again.

My recovery from getting implants was incredibly hard. Much harder than I anticipated. Most of my girlfriends who I knew who had them all said that they felt more or less back to normal by about day 3 post-op. For me it was much closer to day 10, if even at all, to this day. I used to love running and the first time I tried running post-op I had to stop and walk home almost immediately. This past year I begged my body to get back into running and it fought me every step of the way. Five years ago when I was running regularly, I was running around a 9-10 minute mile and now I'm lucky if I can get down to the snails pace of a 12 minute mile.

It was maybe about a year after I got my implants that I learned about Breast Implant Illness, or "BII". I wish I could remember how I learned about this, but I immediately fell down the rabbit hole of information. To condense what BII is in simple terms, it is our body's way of rejecting a foreign object. At this point, I'd only gained about 20 pounds, but when I saw on the list of symptoms "weight gain, with the inability to lose it", something in me clicked and I knew it was my implants that were the root cause of my thicker frame. At the time of writing this, I have gained almost 50 pounds since I went under the knife and I hardly even recognize myself anymore. I see pictures of myself and unless I've scored some awesome angle, I am disgusted. Even my fingers and my knees look swollen. My KNEES people!

In the grand scheme of things, I count myself as very lucky that my BII symptoms are minimal. Other women suffer far greater than I have. These symptoms have shown up in other women as autoimmune disease, chronic pain, hair loss... The list is a mile long.
On top of the weight gain, I've also had monthly yeast/bacterial infections. I've stopped going to the doctor for antibiotics because I don't think it's any better for my body to be on those every single month. While I previously had depression and mild anxiety, my anxiety has been through the roof this past year and I even had a full on panic attack the summer of 2016. My brain fog and bad memory is so bad I cannot remember anything unless it's written down and even then I'll probably forgot that I wrote it down. Lastly, I noticed a serious uptake in my drinking post-op and not just drinking, but blacking out almost every time. It didn't seem to matter if I had only 2 glasses of wine, or the entire bottle, I wasn't going to remember parts of the night before the next morning. More on this topic in a later post...

On August 4th, 2015, I got 475 cc's of toxic silicone implanted and on August 27th, 2019 I will have them removed by Dr. Rodgers in Katy, TX. Just over 4 years later and honestly, this could not come a minute too soon.

The words on this page did not pour out as eloquently as I'd originally hoped, but I've started and stopped 4 drafts and honestly don't know if any of them are any better than this one. I share all of this with the world NOT for pity or attention. Those that know me well know that while I'm honest when people ask about my implants, I will confirm I have them and talk about them if inquiring minds want to know, but I don't flaunt them like a Playboy bunny. The main reason behind sharing this is because this was not something I knew about before getting them and I can't help but wonder if I'd discovered BII 5 years ago, if I still would have made this decision. We will never know, but I do hope that by sharing this information with you, it will stop at least 1 other woman out there from getting their boobs done. Or maybe even get 1 woman to realize what her implants are doing to her and inspire her to get them removed.

If you're the praying kind, please say one for me this coming Tuesday and if you're not, maybe just throw an extra fuzzy thought into the world. Even if having these removed does not heal me back to where I was 4 years ago, I know that I am making the best decision for my health and my future.

Please ask any questions that have come up for you, I'm an open book!

Shameless

There's a lot to this post's title.
For one, I just realized I have re-watched the same episode of Shameless three times now which may or may not mean that I've consumed entirely too much alcohol over the last 5 days. I'll let your imagination be the judge.

Shameless (the U.S. version) has been brought to my attention by way of my boss at the spa I now work at and I seriously cannot get enough. I feel like it's a legit addiction and that I am seriously a part of these peoples lives. When I don't watch an episode a day, I feel my life is missing something and I fear for the day when I come to the end of what Netflix has to offer.

Moving on...

My life feels so good right now, yet I know it is so far from it. Or is it? I worry way too much about what other people think about me, my life decisions, my financial situation, my love life, my work life. Any of it. All of it.

As of this past Saturday (10/29/16), I am the happiest I've ever known myself to be- yet there is still SO much NOT going right.

I don't blog near as much my heart and hands wish I would- but if you read this (does anyone ever read this? I can't help but wonder if anyone EVER stumbles across this since I certainly don't promote it anymore), you know I went through a painful breakup shortly after turning 30 (so almost two years ago!!).
If you had told me then that that man would ever be back in my life in a significant way, I never would have believed you. I was so upset over how things ended, even though it was I who made it all happen.
Now here I sit, in a apartment that is ours. Yet I have no idea what this means for our relationship or if it means anything at all. I love him so fiercely and when all these plans to live together came about, I had convinced myself that he was not maybe "the one" but most definitely was the end all be all.

Six days later, I am still thankful that he is a major part of my life but now, I wonder... Is this really my life? Why do I have to love him? He started drinking at 1pm and it was a struggle for him to not start even earlier. His alcohol dependency/addiction/adoration was a huge reason why the girl he dated after me broke up with him. At first, I thought perhaps she was being too harsh with him. Now? Now I think she may be right. She may be on to something. I worry about him. About his liver. About his health and overall well being. Jesus... I sound like a battered woman. Fighting for a man who has done her wrong so many times, yet still goes back for more TIME and TIME again. Is it true that we can't help who we love? The heart wants what the heart wants? What is it with him!? Why the fuck do I love him so much? He is so NOT the man I pictured myself to be with, yet I cannot imagine living without him right now and I am SO thankful that we are in this year long lease together so we can now figure out what the fuck we are supposed to do together.

He is in the next room sleeping and all I want to do is go in there, wake him up, and say all of this to him. But I can't. I am so fearful of his rejection that I walk on eggshells everyday just to keep up with whatever ounce of an actual relationship we may have going on.

The night we discussed the idea of moving in together, he confessed that four weeks prior, our "relationship" had gotten a point that felt like a real relationship again and he liked it. So naturally, he freaked out and went radio silent, as you do when you think you might be in love with someone... I, on the other hand, felt the same, yet chose to embrace it. It was the first time ever in my entire romantic life that I had allowed myself to truly be in a casual relationship and didn't care much about how slow it was progressing (probably because I could see that it was progressing). I love(d) this fool so much I was wiling to put my own selfishness of wanting to move things along quicker, aside.

Like I said before, shameless... These are life moments I am not supposed to be proud of, and I realize that, yet I'm currently happy. And honestly... that scares me. Considering the very literal breakdown I had back in August, the very opposite feeling of utter happiness feels more than a little strange.

Why can't life just show its cards and tell me what the hell my future holds. How long is this happiness wave going to last? I'm just waiting for the crash down. Please dear god let it be as slow and gentle as the rise.

Having it all, is just a state of mind

My mind is constantly in motion.
I'm always wondering to myself, "what should I blog about next?"
A moment happens, small or large, mundane or monumental and I think to myself, would people like to read about this experience? Where is the line between over sharing and just the right amount of information? We are living in a world where our phones are rarely more than a foot away from us and our fingers are constantly hovering over the large white dot below the word "photo" or "video", just waiting for the most exciting thing ever to happen to us, all so we can share that moment on one of our many social media platforms to make it look like we live the most awesomeist of lives.

So I sit here and wonder, what to write?

Do I write, yet another post about my breakup and how I'm still hurting deeply? Because I am, but maybe the death of that relationship doesn't deserve my time and words to be shared with the internets anymore? I don't know.

Do I tell you about the quick trip out of Austin I took myself on this past weekend to see one of my favorite country artists, Kacey Musgraves? About how that trip made me feel so empowered and incredibly lonely; happy yet sad, all within mere minutes of each other throughout the entire 24 hours?

Do I confront my lack of confidence in my age and where I'm at in life at the moment? How I've been giving myself pep-talks about the fact that despite the lifetime dream of becoming a mother, I'm finally starting to realize, it just might not happen. And I can't quite decide how I feel about that. Sometimes, incredibly sad. Sometimes, incredibly relieved.

I think I'll go with this...
The day I left for my trip to Helotes, TX, I was packing up my car pumped up on adrenaline from running two hours behind and beyond excited to finally see Kacey live. There was a part of me that felt sadness towards my singledom, but another part of me kept reminding myself that having a boyfriend would not guarantee this trip to be a good time. In fact, for all I knew, a boyfriend could have made it worse! Could have being the operative words here.
I stroll into town just as a street fair is closing down for the day and I ask whether they will be back the following day; to my disappointment, no. I slowly peruse what's left of the vendors and the few shops that are still open. As I get back in my car to check-in to my hotel, I drive past the venue and hear Kacey warming up.... I about died of happiness right there. This town is so dang cute, it's a gorgeous day, I scored some beautiful pieces for my maternity photo shoots (and at a discount nonetheless!) and I'm here, on my own time, on my own schedule, with my own agenda, with no one else to please but myself and I'm frankly quite happy to be alone, knowing that moments like this just would not be the same if shared with another person. As soon as I've checked-in and freshened up, I hurry back to the venue to secure the best spot as close to the front as possible and almost immediately, I'm uncomfortable and so lonely.
I'm sure that they're not, but it feels like everyone is staring at me. Like they just KNOW that I'm there alone.
I do my best to keep an open mind and keep myself open to any and all possibilities for what the night may bring. I couldn't help but think, what if I meet a man here?! What a great, fun story that would be! Maybe I'd make some new girlfriends, should I be so lucky that they happen to live in Austin too! Maybe none of this will matter and Kacey will be an amazing show and the company I'm with (or lack thereof) won't matter at all?!

I tend to not care much for opening bands, but every once in a while, I stumble upon a gem.
And let me tell you, Kacey's openers, Sugar & The Hi Lows, were exactly that, and more.
Their energy on stage was infectious and I couldn't help myself but to bounce around dancing in my small bubble of space to every note (something I probably would not have felt comfortable doing with a man by my side). After the end of one of the first few songs one of the leads says, "I know it sounds crazy for us to play a slow song after that one, but that's exactly what we're gonna do and I hope you like it". It was odd, but I almost just knew that their next song was gonna hit me in all of the feels.
I wasn't wrong, not even a little bit.

Mid-way through their song, "Right Time To Tell You", I'm crying.

I again leap to the belief that everyone is looking at me, so I wipe away my tears as discretely as possible, but they won't stop coming. Music is so powerful, it amazed me how much a brand new song that I'd never heard before could effect me the way it was. I knew there was a song or two that Kacey might play that hits me deep in the feels, but I wasn't expecting this. This one really resonates with how I'm feeling right now around the ex and that whole situation.

After they finish their amazing set, I beeline for the merch table and promptly buy both of the CDs that the band is selling and to my joy, they came up and signed them and I got to have a brief chat with them. Such lovely people and I truly hope to see this band take off.

Kacey finally comes on and she does NOT disappoint. Her voice live is just as good as it is on her CD which seems a rarity these days (sadly). I'm smiling so big and I swear, I haven't felt as happy as I felt in that moment in what feels like forever. I'm just so pleased with everything. My decision to say, "fuck it. I'm buying a ticket to this show and I'll go alone if no one wants to join me". My impeccable taste in good music (humble, aren't I?). My open mindedness to appreciate an artist such as Kacey who has such a unique view on the world. A running list of things that I'm so thankful for in that moment, that I couldn't possibly list them all here. In between songs, she chats with the audience and even though there's about 3,000 of us, it feels so intimate. How this woman is not a bigger star is truly beyond me. I swear if she and Ellen Degeneres were to team up, they could take over the world!

But as the lyrics go, "having it all is just a state of mind".
Of course, she plays the song that is the absolute epitome of how I'm currently feeling at any given moment, "I miss you".

The song is all about having all the stars line up, everything is working out in your favor, life cannot be any better, but there's still something missing: him. If you're asking yourself as you read this, "is she really still talking about her ex/breakup? Does she write or think about anything else??" Right now? No, not so much. It's all consuming and I truly hope that by writing this stuff and getting it off my chest and out of my mind will only help me move on. ***Any prayers and happy thoughts are much appreciated, thanks!***
As the night goes on, I continue to have a wonderful night, but in the back of my head, I know it's bound to be over before I'd like it to be. Thank god for encores, am I right? Her encore was one of the longer ones I've ever had the pleasure of hearing. Not only did she do a few songs without her band, just a capella, but she also previewed a couple of new songs that will be on her new album to be released in June!
Also, she did a cover of TLC's, "Scrubs" and I just about DIIIIIIIED.

I  mean, does it get any better than that?!
Well, I assure you, it did. I left that show on such a high. Not only that, but I felt an odd sense of pride as I was leaving the show walking past other girls who were so wasted that they could hardly stand up. Is it weird that I felt bad for them? I mean, there's no way they'll remember the show as clearly as I did, what a shame for them. But hey, as Kacey says, "so I'll just do me and honey you can just do you"- if that's how you prefer to enjoy live music, more power to you. Thank you for not throwing up on me.

And there you have it, another rambling post from the mind of one Abbey C.
If you hadn't already heard of Kacey Musgraves or Sugar and the Hi Lows, please!! Find them online and enjoy every note and every word. You can thank me later ;)

P.S. I have a date tomorrow night that I'm not actually sure I'm looking forward to and have more or less decided that if this one doesn't work out, I'm deleting my online dating profile and taking a deliberate break from dating to work on making myself [more] awesome. Wish me luck!

Empowered yet still lonely

In the wake of yet another breakup, I've had some serious times of reflection (as my past few pots are evidence of). There are these moments where I feel powerful as fuck! Hands in the air, wavin' like I just don't care, humming a tune of "All the Single Ladies".

That's typically my motto from 6am-6pm Monday through Friday.

Then, the drive home from work sucks- it's a harsh realization that I'm going home to an empty apartment where no one, not even a furry creature, will be there to greet me and no chance that someone will come through the door chiming, "Honey! I'm home!"

Alright, truthfully, this isn't always so bad. Some days, it's awesome, and I actually feel sorry for those that don't get the chance to have more than just a few minutes alone. And with each passing day, the wound of the breakup heals ever so slightly more. The impending visit from my mom just days away to be quickly followed by a visit from a good friend gives me much to look forward to, making the focus on the breakup slightly less.

But then- a blood bath. No really, there was blood everywhere.

This past Friday (ironically, Good Friday) I rushed home from my full-time CA job with just enough time to vacuum my entire apartment in preparation for the previously mentioned visitors when before I knew it, it was time to head off to my second job. With only minutes to spare before rushing out the door, I realized that if I didn't prepare myself a snack, it would be 9 o'clock before I'd get the chance to eat again. So I started toasting my favorite rosemary sourdough from Sprouts and cut open an avocado to schemear on top. I'd successfully coated one piece of toast when I went to remove the pit from the second half of the fruit. I typically use a paring knife, piercing the pit then rotating it to remove it. Only this time, the knife didn't stop at the pit. When I turned it to remove it, instead of staying in the pit, it went straight through and into my hand.

Blood. Everywhere. I scream.

To be frank, I was in more shock and I don't handle blood all that well; but oddly enough, it wasn't the most amount of pain I've ever been in. (I've had kidney stones for crying out loud!)
My mind immediately goes to dollar signs when faced with a serious injury and all I can think of in that moment is, "Is this really that bad? Maybe I could just put some ice and a band-aide on it and still make it to work. I don't really need to go to the hospital."
But the blood just would not stop. I couldn't even see the cut because it was covered in red. I knew I'd need to go to the hospital, but I called my cousin anyway because I was hoping she'd tell me to just throw some ice on it and suck it up. Of course that's not what happened, but drive myself to the hospital??

All I wanted in that moment was help. A partner. Anyone. My mom? My cousin? A boyfriend.
Though I knew it wasn't an injury that would prevent me from having the capability to drive myself to the hospital, going it alone was the last thing I wanted.

I get to the closest urgent care, mascara laden tears streaming down my face. They rush me into a private room and I sit and wait patiently. And by "patiently" I mean sobbing and unable to control the jitters coursing through my bouncing legs. I'm still not entirely sure how this is possible, but while my hand is in an incredible amount of pain, in another way, it's also gone numb. Almost feeling as if it's fallen asleep. Two thoughts immediately rush through my head: 1) This can't be good that it feels numb, I really hope I didn't hit a nerve 2) Being here alone without a loving man by my side might just be the lowest of the low. I thought I knew lonely before. Wow was I wrong.
At this point, I'd say probably 80% of my tears are pouring from my feelings of loneliness.

Now, I don't want to come off as ungrateful- my cousin moved a few things around and was able to load up her kids and meet me to take me home since I was too drugged up to get behind the wheel. And I am so appreciative for that, I really truly am. But am I so crazy for wanting a man to fill that role? I was trying so hard in the midst of it all to remind myself, "Abbey, you can do this. Alone." and obviously, it wasn't that detrimental. I did it. There are very few (if any) things in life that only a man can do or that we truly need a mans help with. For me, it's not about the need. It's about the want. But in the same way that my recent patio furniture purchase was technically a want, it fulfilled a need in me that is very important- the need to be able to experience as much outdoor time as possible.

I'm working on restoring myself to being whole. Without a man. I know that a man does not complete me. Only I can complete me. Much like the stitches in my hand, the hypothetical thread of life is being strung through the needle as I type, with each passing moment, with every letter and word, to bring me back together. My hope is that some day, I'l be able to look back on these posts and have appreciation for the hard times because as much as they suck now, I know deep down that I cannot get to a higher point in life without starting from the bottom of somewhere.