The last 24 hours have been incredibly emotional. I said goodbye to my AA homegroup and presented a friend with her 6 month medallion. Within those 24 hours came an outpouring of support, well-wishes, and salutations from comedians, fellow sobriety chasers, and Craigslist roommates turned friends.
Tonight will mark my last open mic in Minnesota. One of my first open mics ever was at the Comedy Corner Underground almost four years ago. I was nervous and chatty with other hopefuls trying to make a basement full of college students laugh. It went over well and I returned each Friday for a little over two years. Despite the hiccups of temporarily quitting comedy and break ups and rehab, that room has been my favorite room in which to do comedy.
Sunday will be my last official show (Universe Games in Uptown at 7:30) for Boy Kisses Comedy. They have a local and loyal following who are interested in experimental and alternative styles of comedy. The theme of the show is "Ethics," so I'll be giving a lecture on the ethics of sex in the comedy community. It will be my first time ever doing a character on stage. I even made up a fake name for myself. I'm also buying shoes for my outfit at DSW tomorrow and returning them on the way out of town because I'll only be in high heels for 5-7 minutes and all of my shoes with considerable height have been relocated. "They were just too tight." Speaking of ethics, this probably isn't ethical.
I have completely bagged my Yellowstone trip because at this point, I just want to be home. The national park is roughly 15 hours from Seattle, and there will be no doubt that I'll be back that way again. A week from today, I'll have an angry kitty on my lap and an SVU marathon on the television. I'm really excited to see my mom and to really soak in that I made a good decision. For the last few months, I've felt stagnant, pointless, and lonely. I'm going to break that pattern and search for the elusive serenity in the place I call home. The majority of my belongings are by the front door and the remainder of the things I am using will be left on the curb for whoever needs refurbished IKEA stuff. Oh, this chair? It's a rescue. We found it on the corner of 20th and Polk in the middle of the night. We're so happy it finally has a forever home!
One year ago today, everything changed. Space was violated, frantic phone calls were made, confusion was rampant, assumptions were drawn upon too early, conclusions were jumped to too quickly, people were shunned, insults were hurled, reputations were ruined, unhappiness swelled. The circumstance in which I'm referring to was a hot topic of debate for sometime, perhaps too long of a time. At this point, I am gracefully bowing out of participating in this situation. I no longer have ties to the involved and I'm excited to live in a town where I won't be harassed on the street. I may be running away from this problem instead of facing it head on, but I literally have no interest in trying to make amends with people who continue to badger me for the sake of being immature and abrasive. I no longer need to defend the hurt, and I no longer need to worry about the unfavorable light in which I am consistently seen. I am tapping out. I am bowing out. I am walking out. The only thing I can do is hope that people can become enlightened to their mistakes and realize their wrongs. It's officially out of my control, and I wasted so much time trying to be in control. It's unattainable, a figment of possibility. I can only be in control of myself.
Certain things occasionally show their ugly faces that enlighten me to how bad my drinking had really become. One night I blacked out and painted my bathroom, and I did not paint it well. It's a melange of yellow and blue and green paint that somehow came to resemble something out of a Brazilian beginner's art class. It's horrible. Paint splotches are on the formica floor that I cannot remove. Every time I pee or shave my legs in the sink I'm reminded of how many hours I've spent getting plowed in a Buffalo Wild Wings.
And then I saw the ignition to my car. To be more clear, not the ignition itself, but the area around it. The fiber glass casing to my ignition is covered in haphazard scratch marks from trying to start my car when I definitely shouldn't have been driving. I can't believe I didn't notice this until the other day, considering I've been sober for almost six months. How on earth I escaped drinking with no DUI is beyond me. I thought that as long as I didn't get caught, I was impervious to alcohol and my subsequent allergy. They never caught me, but my drinking did. These little insights into my addiction have shown me how bad a relapse could be. With motivation and the help from sober peers, I've been able to remain strong and really become aware of my addiction and all of the negative thinking, ruminating, and poor decision making that comes along with it. There are only a few more weeks until football season starts, and that will be my real test. I survived open mics, comedy shows, personal crises, emotional hiccups, even the VFW on a night where the karaoke is especially poor.
But I'll get through it, me and my club soda with a lime.