Hello friends,
First, thank you so much for the kindness around my soberversary. This post is actually hitting your inbox on my actual day of birth because why not get sober 9 days before your birthday, you know?
The start of my sixth year found me in the deep middle of COVID in this house, and let me tell you that there is something very strange about waking up six years sober and feeling physically sick. I’m planning to write about that soon once the brain fog clears. September was a whirlwind of a month and I am hoping October is a little kinder. Thank you thank you thank you, as always, for being here.
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i do not want what i haven’t got
When I quit drinking, there was a void where the drinking had been. I don’t say “void” meaning fear, but “void” meaning possibility. There was a blank space, and I immediately set out to fill it.
Over those first years (and sometimes still) I would recklessly add things to that space. I would try to fit the contoured edges of new identities hobbies and habits together, to see if they were the right shape. Some were, some were not, and some were simply the right for a particular season of my life. But, you see, I thought the point of this space was to eliminate it, to completely eclipse that spot where drinking had been with other things. I thought that if I could just fix every part of myself, I could became whole and then life would be more manageable. Like falling down a well with arms outstretched in the hope of a mooring, I was so scared to not be full that I grasped at everything I could reach.
This process was a necessary act of becoming. Of trying things on to learn what I liked and what I did not, what I wanted and what I did not. But, because I like extremes, it was also a process of becoming something of a recovery hoarder. I piled tools, practices, and opinions on top of each other until I could stand in front of the pile with arms outstretched. Ta-dah! This is me! This precarious pile is me!* I meditate! I have a daily writing practice! I floss! I have an anxious attachment style! Oh, has a singular habit floated out of my life, leaving a tiny corner of empty space? Better fill it up quickly with more things!
Ever since she died, I have listened to Sinead O’Connor’s “I do not want what I haven’t got” on a nearly daily basis. It has been my refrain. Of course, the song is beautiful as all of Sinead’s songs are, and it is haunting in that particular way that only she was. But no matter how many times I listen, the closing lines, “I have all that I requested, And I do not want what I haven't got” hits me between the eyes. I have always been a striver and a seeker. I want to know more and I want to be more. In this capitalist system we live in, I often find myself wanting to have more, even though that is not very flattering to admit. I want to fill all of the space in me because I am scared of emptiness. I am scared of the quiet. I am scared of what it would mean to practice being satisfied with myself. To give up the moral high ground of the busy. To not tinker with my identity like its a system that I can optimize.
On a train ride last month, I hit play and the song fills my headphones as we pass a field of sunflowers. In September the sunflowers go brown and gold, each petal-less disc gazing at the ground. I have to make myself remember that these are sunflowers too, even if they are not as pleasing to look at. This fallow moment is a part of who they are and a part of what they will be next as the cold marches ever closer. Space does not need to be filled, it can be something of its own. Maybe one day I will remember that. We are not only ourselves when we are at our best, and I must remember that too. We must let ourselves be empty, not inservice of being full, but because the act of being empty lets us understand what we could not see for all of the clutter. It lets us see the basics of who we are without adornment.
In this moment of reshaping my life, where I am understanding how I want to spend my time, what would it mean to not fill that time? To let things stand empty without knowing when or if they will ever be full. To not want what I haven’t got. To put out my arms and spin in the space that is left until the dizziness takes over and I find myself on my back, arms still open, staring at the stars.
*If anyone has seen SAP, this is totally like Mae Martin’s snow globe bit, except I prefer to identify as a precarious pile of collected trash because this is, as the kids say, my *aesthetic*!
Assorted, rad thing(s):
A section of this newsletter where I share what I have been reading, watching, or otherwise consuming lately. My COVID brain fog and the chaos of quitting my job has meant that I haven’t had a lot of focus or bandwidth lately..but I have managed a few things!
A Restricted Country by Joan Nestle: I finally read this (on loan from Max!) after hearing Joan speak at a Sinister Wisdom event last month. She is a very cherished elder in this house. Probably best known as the founder of the Lesbian Herstory Archives, Joan’s essays are not just stunning, they’re alive. A mix of erotica (that woman is so horny!) alongside essays on her mother, her childhood, SNCC work in the Civil Rights-era south, censorship, and a defense of butch-femme relationships that makes the case for preserving rather than sterilizing our queer history. If you are queer or care about queer history, I can’t recommend this enough.
On the Cusp of Something Beautiful: I met the magical Amickoleh through a work-related course last year and from our first conversation could feel the strength of her intuition. She was kind enough to invite me onto her podcast where she pulls wisdom from her own guides, from books, music, and conversation to uplift and inspire creatives to live more authentic and connected lives. We talk about herbalism, sobriety (help, how do I tell my own sobriety story!?), gay eyebrows, and community. This conversation was a joy, and the whole podcast is so amazing…I hope you will give it a follow.
A Discovery of Witches: I love a supernatural show and this one has been inviting me into goth season in the best ways. Alchemy! Witches! Vampires! Time Travel! Finland! Lesbian aunts in quilted housecoats who live in a haunted house with their cat!
with biggest love,
lisa
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Happy Birthday to you! Love the image of the pile and can very much relate. Thank you for your words on this rainy Oz evening.