I do what I KNOW. Coping with anxiety and depression.

I’ve been feeling overwhelmed the last few days. The kind of overwhelm that just knocks you out…exhausted, depressed, anxious, irritable, loss of appetite followed by insatiable hunger. Am I not eating enough? Eating too much? Am I drinking enough water? Too much coffee? Not enough sleep? It’s too easy to be carried away with thoughts…searching for a solution to problem I have not yet identified. Do I push through or just surrender? A fine line between plummeting further under by inaction or accidentally forcing myself further under with too much productivity. I know it’s about balance. The brain fog is making it all extra hard to decipher.

And so, I just do what I know. I wake in the morning and make my bed. I breathe through my kids big feelings and I pause every few minutes throughout the day to check in with myself. What is around me? What feelings are in my body? What do I smell? Taste? Hear? I write and I write and I write some more. I sip my coffee slowly and prepare my tea even slower. I pour the epsom salt into the bath and sit until the water no longer brings comfort. I get lost in washing the dishes; there are always dirty dishes to be washed…scrubbing, rising, drying. The repetitive movement slows the thoughts and gives me space to breathe into them. I go for long drives and take long walks in the forest. I move my body and scream into pillows. I turn the music up and sing as loud as I can. I eat too much dark chocolate and cry rivers worth of tears.

As I lie in bed at night, I congratulate myself on feeling my way through another day. I may not have solved all my problems today but, allowing myself to feel all of my feelings is a super power I’ve cultivated over years of struggle. I don’t need each day to feel magical, I just have to keep showing up. There’s always a break down before a major shift and so I do believe in the good things coming. I trust in myself. I surrender to this moment here and now and I feel my way into the next. And I am so grateful to be alive and to be feeling; whatever those feelings may be.

With love, Brianna

Car Alarms

After the last few chaotic days with my kids, I’m craving, praying, begging for some quiet. For some space and time to just breathe and be still. As I’m sitting here in the car waiting for boyfriend Paul to come out of the grocery store, car alarms are blaring! One stops, then another starts in another direction. WTF. It is so annoyingly obnoxious, I can’t help but laugh.

Life keeps ticking away no matter how much we want it to slow down.

Driving to my new apartment today to get some stuff done, I blurted out that all I wanted was to just get drunk. I couldn’t even stop the words from flowing out of me….it must have come from deep within my subconscious mind because I wasn’t even aware of the craving being there at all. It is probably because I’ve been pushing myself too hard lately and my kids have been pushing back hard as well. I asked him if he ever felt that urge. The urge to just get really drunk. He said, “oh yeah, sometimes…but only when I’ve already started drinking.” “Oh, so never in the middle of the day, out of seemingly nowhere?” “Nope”, he replied.

Maybe that is one of the differences between those who can drink and those who can not. They only feel that pull when they’ve consciously chosen to start drinking and then the poison starts working its purpose. For me, that pull happens even when there is no alcohol around.

I really wanted to get so much more done today, and I did get a few things done. It doesn’t feel like enough. I have three weeks to move though, so I’m trying really hard to remind myself there’s no need to rush. Patience. A lesson the universe keeps providing me. One that I just keep trying to ignore. Maybe this time, I should really pay attention and listen! “Measure twice, cut once”, Paul said to me, and there really is much wisdom in that statement.

Now we are heading back to make some dinner and I’m going to enjoy a slower pace for the evening. The to do list will still be there tomorrow, and I can tackle it again, then. Baby steps. I preach about baby steps….I have to learn to walk the walk.

Car alarms really do have a peculiar way of pulling you completely back into the present moment. They are so loud and continuous, you can’t so anything other than listen. So, maybe I felt I needed a moment of silence, but maybe, the universe knew I needed to be brought right back HERE. Right NOW.

No urge to drink now. Anxiety has lifted. My house is quiet and still, besides the sound of him cutting potatoes and whistling a song. No need to rush. Life is ticking by no matter how much we want it slow down, so might as well, be HERE and take it all in, as this moment flows into the next.

If you’re thinking about drinking, here’s your CAR ALARM!!!! Be here right now. You don’t really want it and you definitely don’t need it. This moment shall pass, and so will that craving.

With love, Brianna.

Keeping Promises

Right before Christmas, my son asked me a question;

Aiden:” Mommy, promise me next year we will have a bigger home with a backyard?”

Me:” I promise.”

About eight months ago I started looking into buying a house. Discouraged by the insanely inflated housing costs, my looming student loan debt and the pandemic’s effects on my income, I quickly realized that this process would take a lot longer than I had imagined. Even though I felt overwhelmed, I made a promise to myself that I would not give up. I would keep working toward this goal of mine, no matter what.

On December 31st, I received an email from my real estate agent that I had secured a new apartment for us. We will be living with my younger brother; he needed a place and I couldn’t comfortably afford a bigger place on my own and so this works out for all of us. My children will now have their own bedroom, a small backyard to play in and I will have a full sized kitchen and my very own washer and dryer. No, it’s not a house, but it’s still a huge improvement from our tiny one bedroom apartment we currently live in. Most importantly, I kept my promise to my son. I didn’t wait to get started on my goal… through hard work and perseverance, I made it happen on the very first day of the year.

In the first few days of January, I signed the lease, baked some homemade bagels, made elderberry syrup and went snowboarding for the first time after wanting to learn for so long. As I sip my coffee now, I am flooded with the deepest sense of gratitude I have ever known. Reflecting back over this past year, I’m humbled, amazed and proud of the person I’ve grown to be. When I made the decision to stop drinking, I never imagined it would completely transform my life. I went from a place of complete breakdown; feeling worthless, hopeless, fearful and paralyzed, to a place of feeling empowered, capable and strong.

My life didn’t magically get easier, but my perspective of the challenges changed. I learned to breathe, to slow down, to trust and most importantly, how to be resilient. I began to meet the challenges and work alongside them instead of numbing and hiding…wishing they would just disappear. I decided that if I wanted things to change, I would be responsible for making it happen and I would show up each and every day, ready and willing to do the work.

I didn’t feel positive or optimistic every day this past year, but it didn’t matter. I held onto the vision of the kind of life I wanted, the kind of person I truly desired to be and I never let go of that vision. I held on as tight as I could to my sobriety and trusted that this would be enough to get me through anything. I started doing more of what brought me joy and comfort. I began to chose myself first, and to set boundaries around my needs. I made sure to check in with myself daily.

I once thought, wished, hoped and prayed that sobriety would save me….but what I have come to find in the past fourteen months being alcohol free, is that sobriety didn’t save me; I saved me! Sobriety was the tool I used to see, feel and think clearly. The fuel I needed to keep me going. The crutch held beside me in times I felt I couldn’t go on. The catalyst for finding the community and resources I needed to keep me on this path. The mentor I needed to guide me in learning how to value myself, my relationships and my boundaries.

But the power of transformation itself, lies within me. Within you. Within all of us.

Being sober is now a part of who I am. A part I am grateful for and will cherish and nurture always, but there’s so much more to me. Every day I practice honoring myself. I balance the responsibilities I have for myself, my family and the world around me, carefully and with intention. I’m finding myself and it feels really good!

If I were to give myself any advice at the beginning it would be this; trust the process. Even if you don’t feel like today is making a difference…each and every moment adds up. Just for today, imagine what you would be doing a year from now, if your were solid in your sobriety. What would you be doing? How would you act? Do that! Be that! Just for today, imagine the type of person you would really like to be, and promise yourself, you will be that person, as much as you can. Start small. Stay consistent. Take notice of how these small steps will bring you closer to yourself and toward actualizing all of your goals and dreams.

You have all the power within you. Allow sobriety to hold your hand until YOU can harness that power. You are worthy. You are resilient and you can do anything you set your mind to.

With love, Brianna.

November 17th, 2019

I open the cupboard and pull out the bottle of gin I had tucked away. As I pour the beefeater into my thermos, I notice how little there is left. I try not to pay attention to it. I grab the tonic from the fridge and top the cup off.

I take a sip.

It burns on it way down my throat and as tears fill my eyes, I hear Nora call out for me.

“One second!’ I answer.

I take a deep breathe and walk slowly into the living room where I find her on the floor, holding her dolls.

“Will you play with me? she asks, eyes wide and smiling.

Before I can even answer, the tears I had been holding back all day start pouring out.

I’m screaming inside.

No I don’t want to play right now. Can’t you see that this is all the gin I have left? Can’t you see that I can’t possibly care about anything other than the fact that I won’t be able to fill this cup back up again tonight? Can’t you see that I got caught drinking at work and now I have to go to AA and I don’t want to! Can’t you see that I can’t handle life right now? Im drowning and alcohol is keeping me underwater and of course that doesn’t make sense but it’s the only way I know how to survive!

The thoughts rage on.

She doesn’t understand why I’m suddenly crying… how could she?

She comes close, holds my hand and her little voice whispers in my ear, “what’s wrong Mumma?’

I look into her eyes and I know.

It’s time to say goodbye.

This will be my last cup.

This will be the last time I pull the gin from the cabinet. And maybe I won’t be okay and maybe I’ll keep drowning but there’s nothing left to do.

I SURRENDER!

I take the last swig from my thermos, in disbelief and disappointment that I’ve already finished it.

We sit and we play and then we cuddle into bed together.

On the morning of November 18th, 2019 as I open my eyes to the sun peaking into the bedroom, and I look at my children still asleep next to me…I take a deep breathe.

Today will be my last day one.

It has to be.

And so it was.

Motherhood & Sobriety

January 12, 2014 was the first day I held him in my arms.

I spent the day in a state of panic and worry. I couldn’t feel him moving inside of me and I needed to know why. What an absolutely terrifying experience followed my arrival to the hospital.

The look of concern on the doctor’s face was enough for me to know that something was very wrong. As the nurses rushed into the room to wheel my hospital bed through the halls, I pleaded with them to tell me what was happening. “We are headed to the operating room, we can not wait any longer”, was all they said to me.

The operating room was blindingly bright and freezing cold. I couldn’t stop shaking as they strapped my body to the table. I couldn’t feel a thing except for my heart beating violently against my chest. The tears poured out of me as finally heard him cry. “Is he okay?”, I screamed. “He is”, someone replied. They held him close to my face for a moment and as they carried him out of my sight, they reassured me that I would see him again soon. It was hours and hours later when I finally held him in my arms.

As I was lying on the bed, alone with my baby boy, I noticed how still and quiet it was. It felt as if the world had stopped. What a strangely beautiful feeling- nothing else to do but slow down, be present and rest.

The rest did not last for very long. He cried and cried. The nurses said he wasn’t getting enough milk. My body ached, but he was starving. I needed to figure out how to help him, but I had no answers. I suddenly realized, I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know how to do any of this! Of course I had read a bunch of parenting books and took a parenting class, but this was REAL now, and it was fucking scary. The weight of it all rested firmly on my shoulders. I was now responsible for keeping another human being alive. A human completely dependent on me, and I was failing already. I didn’t know how to be a mother. I wasn’t ready for this.

Over the following years, I learned and grew and learned some more. I learned to ask for help. I learned to push myself harder than I ever knew possible but I also learned to rest. I made many mistakes and felt so overwhelmed at times, that I thought I’d shatter into a million pieces. Now, my baby boy is almost seven years old and I have birthed another. We are all alive and healthy. I learned how to be a mother because I had no other choice. I had to learn to care for myself while caring for my children; a balancing act. A multitasking role like no other. A journey of staring straight into the depths of my soul and beginning to heal all of the trauma I had, unknowingly, been holding onto for so very long.

I can’t help but notice that my journey into motherhood was much like that of my journey toward sobriety. I was able to stop drinking and stay sober only when I found myself with no other choice. I was able to rip myself open and pull this new life out of me. I stitched myself back up, took time to heal, and got to work. Learning and growing and learning some more. Asking for help. Feeling like I was going to shatter into a million pieces but determined to keep going. I didn’t know how to get and stay sober, but I did it anyways because there was no other option but to keep going.

Before I left the hospital after my son was born, I was told that they had found meconium in the amniotic fluid. He had not been moving because he was suffocating inside of me. The day I was packing to head home, a nurse pulled me aside and said, “I hope you know that you saved your son’s life by coming in when you did, if you had waited any longer, he wouldn’t be here today!”

I may not have felt ready to become a mother that day and my birth experience was not as beautiful, peaceful or as natural as I had planned and imagined it to be…but, I saved his life.

I may not have felt ready to get sober when I did, and my road to sobriety was anything but graceful…but, I saved my life.

We often don’t feel ready for change…but the moment will come when we no longer have any other choice; we must move forward and so, we do.