8 Months Sober | Oh, what a ride...

Today marks my eight months of sobriety; which also marks today as eight months of trying to figure out what my cirrhosis diagnosis means for my life.

A tug-and-pull has been happening in my mind these past few months.

My mind is pulled between the reality of my situation and the fantasy my mind wish could be my reality instead.

I wish I could go to my favorite taco spot and order a top-shelf margarita. Shit, it has gotten to the point where I have salivated at the thought of making myself one. It is pathetic. Just thinking about it as I write this is taking my mind to that fantasy.

Who can really blame me though?

I am twenty-nine years old, sober, single, living with my parents, trying to navigate living with a chronic illness that can kill me, all during a global pandemic and I'm a little frightened. If fantasizing about a margarita gets me by sometimes I do not see a problem with it, I can think of worse things I have done.

Pride and Prejudice (2005); Charlotte Lucas**

I miss my vices

That is it though...

The root of the problem; I miss my vices.

I miss having an escape from my mind and body.

It has been a hard reality to swallow at times. I desire to go out to a club, order a drink, and dance my worries and fears away into the night. Feeling the beat of the music and escaping from the harder parts of life, with strangers and friends around you, there was nothing like it.

The closest euphoria I get, to that experience now, is my toy colorful disco ball light I have a vague memory of winning at Boomers!, while The Fitness Marshal kicks my butt with a fun dance workout routine.

Sometimes if I work out hard enough, I can get a slight runner's high. That combined with the sweat dripping down my neck and having to chug a tall glass of water to cool down, almost feels like a night in Reno, at 5-Star Saloon, all over again.

That is wishful thinking at best, but a girl can pretend. I luckily am able to use my imagination and pretend that it comes close to the life I once lived.

I suppose that my Pisces imagination has its benefits after all.

It is just hard. There are days when I can feel my skin crawling with the desire to act out and having to sit in that feeling is horrible. Just like anything else though, that feeling does pass eventually and I am okay.

Having to work on me

Since receiving my diagnosis, I have not been a good friend nor have played much of an active role in my friendships; this has felt shitty. It has not been my intention, and I feel horrible that this has been the case. I want to be a good friend but I am currently in survival mode; trying hard to keep my mental bandwidth from being overwhelmed.

It has been a juggle trying to keep me alive, and sober, while building a healthy relationship with myself, and maintaining a social life outside of it. I am constantly battling the voice in my head that wants to say screw it all, this is scary, complex, and exhausting, with the voice that brings me back to reality. The reality is that path of saying screw it all is not one I can ever choose to go down.

I am learning to love myself enough to where that voice that tells me to give in to the temptations around me, no longer has a strong presence in my mind. I need to grow to care more about living and enjoying this beautiful chance I get at life than trying to escape the fear of my liver disease shortening my life.

Taking the time to enjoy life more has been wonderful. Enjoying the flavors of fresh fruit and the green clean whole foods that are my main diet; going outside and listening to the birds chirping in our yard, while I can feel the fresh cut grass under my feet; just feeling blessed that I am alive to experience it all, even with the heartache that comes with it too.

These slow-down moments that I originally gained perspective on while I lived on Maui, now is serving as a tool in learning to love myself and appreciate the time I do have.

Fear is a bitch, but this bitch is resilient

Oh but man...

Fear is a bitch.

I cannot run from this disease.

I cannot escape it.

It is now a part of my human experience.

...and that is what scares me.

Not being able to run, makes me feel trapped in my skin, and that feeling itself scares me. This is my life and I can make it anything I want it to be with this precious time I have. That needs to be my driving force in my life and in this battle, I am fighting, not fear.

If the decisions I make in my life are based on fear, I will not be able to enjoy my life and be strong enough to fight this disease.

I am stronger than that and I have proven that to myself over and over again, my whole life.

This here isn't any different.

Acceptance

I can and will overcome this. I am already at a phase of acceptance, which is huge. I think that is how I am staying sober through it all and not reverting to old behaviors. I accept that in order to not have my quality of life decline within the next few years, I cannot live the life I once lived.

Honestly, I don't want to revert to that version of myself anyways.

She had fun!! Oh, how she had fun. She went to parties and spent late nights out dancing her worries away to the beat of the music the DJ played, and had a splendid time. I am not saying I won't go out dancing at a club one day in the future, your girl still needs to shake her problems away, what I am saying is at this moment that lifestyle does not serve my life.

I cannot take the risk of catching COVID-19. That can become the event that tips the scales towards my demise. So, I will be shaking my ass, in my bedroom or making my family dance it out in the kitchen with me. The risk is not worth the potential negative outcome.

I accept this that is my reality and I take that with me one day at a time. I cannot worry about what is to come, I only have control of my attitude on what is in my present and how I react to it.

Currently, things are not too bad. My last round of bloodwork came back overall well, for someone with cirrhosis. The numbers were a little high in areas that my medical team already has been monitoring. My tumor/cancer markers came back negative, which is always fabulous news. Next week, I have an Ultrasound to see how my liver, kidneys, pancreas, and other abdominal organs are doing.

For the past few weeks, I have felt a sharp pain under my right rib cage and in my back. I have faith that it is nothing serious and is just a part of my body adjusting to the new, lighter weight that I am at now. The Ultrasound will provide us with more information on the current situation and verify that nothing is going on, hopefully.

🤞🏻

This isn't as scary as it once felt; as I know what to expect and I know that I have a team helping me navigate this complex journey. They all have been a part of me accepting my new life and reality.

Now do not get me wrong, my skin crawls all of the time just wanting to act out and not do what I am supposed to.

This is a part of that journey too, unfortunately.

In the words of Demi Lovato:

My demons are on the hunt

But my angels taught me how to run

I got two wolves inside of me

But I decide which one to feed

What is next?

There is more I can be doing to help make this journey kinder and less lonely. I can efforts to finally seek out support in more ways than I have been.

Support groups on Facebook for individuals with NAFLD, cirrhosis, or liver disease, have been helpful in many ways. These support groups do not completely fill the void of feeling alone in this experience. I am twenty-nine years old, alcohol is not what wholly caused me to get to where I am today. This is not one faceted problem in a vacuum, it is complex. In the support groups, there are a lot of individuals asking

'can I possibly drink alcohol every now and again with this disease?'

This is not something I am even considering...

I understand the importance of not drinking alcohol and the consequences if I were to; i.e. liver failure. The support I think I need is to figure out how to fill the void that my vices once filled for me. Everything that I have now in my life is peaceful; gardening, knitting, hiking, dog walking, kayaking, and all of the relaxing -ings there are out there.

Though these are the activities my body needs in order to get better, the reckless side of me is never let out. Missing the more reckless vices I once had, makes my skin crawl and I need to learn how to change that. What can I do to fill the void? Will I be able to ease the feeling of FOMO, knowing there is a lot I cannot do?

...if I figure it out, I will let you know.

Until next time,