A place, like a story, is strengthened by practicing the words, admitting quietly to ones self, and then saying aloud “perhaps I could have my own corner, a place.” For me to tell a girlfriend to build herself a small quiet corner away from kids and cacophonies is easy as breathing. Â To say such a thing to myself, is like slogging uphill wearing cement boots.
I have learned, in my 12-step fellowship, to value the inherent uniqueness of all stories,including my own — to love the flavors and subtleties of others’ tales, and watch their unfolding with an awareness and appreciation that would have inspired only yawns and eye-rolls 2 years ago.
Today is my 2nd day in my very own pretty little space. Â My very own office, where I can work and think, with a door that locks. Â And I suspect you know exactly what I mean.
My latest? Beyonce. Â The clothes! The beauty! The voice! The sass! Â When I listen to her music, I feel pretty, young, and powerful. Â And I’m sure many other 14-year old girls would heartily agree with me on this one.
For the past few months, I’ve been so wrapped up with work and family and busy-ness that I’ve almost missed the opportunity to do my happy dance.  Even though I’m still many months away from publication, my book is on Amazon
One of the most fun parts of this process was coming up with a dream list of possible writers who might endorse the book. She already said “yes” as did she. Thank you thank you thank you!
(David Sheff and Ann Patchett, if you’re out there and would like a personal slave for a year, please please endorse my book).
Meanwhile, life is grand…. 14 months of sobriety and counting.
I love Anne Lamott’s non-fiction, particularly Operating Instructions and her book on writing, Bird by Bird. Â I read Bird by Bird a few years ago and threw it down after a couple of chapters, totally put-off by her repetitive admission of total neuroses. Â I didn’t appreciate someone as worried as I letting it all hang out. Â It hit way too close to home.
Fast forward a few years and this book is a delight. Â I haven’t yet completely embraced my neuroses, but at least we’re on friendly terms. Â In Bird by Bird, Lamott introduces the concept of “small assignments,” the simple idea that a large intimidating project can be broken down into small manageable pieces and eventually mastered.
The state of the environment has been niggling at my conscience for awhile now, and my new gig with Crowd Fusion (our green site launches in December) is a great excuse to begin making changes.
But I’m using Anne Lamott’s approach and I”m taking it bird by bird.
I’m documenting my 30-day eco-makeover at our site, but you won’t be able to read it for awhile. Â Each day I’m making one small change or doing one piece of research to live a more eco-friendly life.
This week, we’re revamping our laundry detergent and I’m researching skin products not laced with parabens or other evil chemicals.
I’m also starting a collection of feeds for excellent green websites, so if you have any to recommend, please do share, whether it’s your blog or a news feed that is particularly helpful and informative.
On October 10, 2007, I decided to stop drinking. Â A small thing when compared to polar ice caps melting, battling cancer, or losing and gaining love, but a large thing when measured against breathing in and out, making meals for children, washing hair, and feeling things unravel from the inside out. Unsure of the next step, but sure that doom was imminent, I reached out to a 12-step group and found home.
Home, like I’ve not had since I was 10, a place of welcoming ease, total honesty, mutual struggle, and above all else, loving kindness.
Today I will attend my home group, a place I go nearly every day at Noon, to receive my one-year coin for 12 months of continuous sobriety. Â It is a coin I take to honor the efforts of all of the wonderful members of my 12-step group, my loving family and friends, but also a coin to signify the absolute miracle that I hardly ever think of drinking anymore. Â I rarely crave a drink. Â I never wish for the ability to drink normally. I can sit right next to people drinking away and hardly even once think “Nummy!!”
Aside from this miracle, I’ve been given a golden rope to cling to, in the dark, in confusion, and in joy. Â I always now have somewhere to go for comfort and joy and laughing. Â If I’m able to bring even a small spec of this same joy to my family and to the world, then all will truly be well.
From where I stand, I’ve given up drinking and in return have gotten the whole world.
As I complete my first year of sobriety, I’m winding up talking about recovery on this blog. Â Recovery is ongoing and it will still be woven in here, but now I’m turning my attention to becoming more environmentally responsible, more conscious and caring. Â This blog will start to document my conversion from green wannabe to green day by day. Â I won’t wear hemp, probably won’t give up my car, and won’t likely give up meat, but I will make small manageable changes day by day. Â I’d love for you to join me.
Sometimes lately I feel like I’ve been taken over by dancers from “Up with People!” or put on the psychic Hallmark wavelength, or placed in a John Denver song (“Sunshine… on my shoulder… makes me happppy..”)
It could be that next month I’ll have completed one-year of sobriety. Â It could be any number of things indescribably joyous that seem to have little relation to anything but a feeling that life is grand and that things are funny again, not just these things, but gallows humor kinds of things…Â
***If you’re interested in being part of an exciting new on-line magazine, please send me an email (redsydarling@gmail.com)Â and I can get you more detailed information***
But right now, nothing seems as lovely as watching Tina Fey impersonate Sarah Palin:
My twins start First Grade today and it is so exciting I woke up at 4am. Aside from the obvious (she describes it as a release from prison) joy and freedom of having children involved in meaningful activities away from home, I’m struck by the surprising everyday weirdness of being a parent. Some mornings I’m still surprised that instead of finding some cute man at my kitchen table making dirty overtures while asking where the Ibuprofen is, I have instead three beautiful daughters fighting over who sits where and asking me when I’ll get them breakfast and why I’m moving so slowly. And also the burgeoning hope that they’ll love school as much as I always have.
