In the cafe, I am the junkie, drinking a bowl of bean caffeine. I am addicted to happiness. It is the safest place. I'm afraid of sadness. I'm afraid of sorrow and sorry. I fear the heavy. I must be light. I must. And so I drink a cup of coffee. And then, I drink another. I try to hold to my allotted 8 ounces, but before I know it, I am at the pot once more, pouring.
In the bar, a room I rarely reside, I drink wet glasses of golden beer. The dizz, the buzz, the bubbly. I want the night to be light. It must be light. It must. Even if the floor feels like a slight hill. Even if the walls appear blurry. I feel light and airy.
It's this refusal to feel: feel the fullness, feel the uncomfortableness, feel the abundance. In the cupboard, in the car, in the moment, even, of flight - of feeling so light. I try to weigh myself down, tether my energetic body to something heavy in my belly.
What if I just allow it all? To throw open the door between my body and soul. To be in the bowl of the moment. The worry is that I'll drown, or that I'll float away. The worry is that I won't be quick enough, interesting enough, fun enough. I will be a boring human being. I will be an odd one, sober. I will not be whole. I will not be happy. I will be tired and grumpy.
And what, I wonder, of my liver? And what of my sleep and my cells and my soul? What of my blood and bones and gut and brain? What of my glands and my skin?
I have written it many times before. And here I write it once again.
I must quit.
Quit caffeine.
Quit alcohol.
Quit sugar.
Quit animal products.
Quit all chemically curated "ingredients."
And it's not to prove anything to anyone but to choose, accept, and welcome the home of my wholeness in its full, unfiltered essence. To stimulate it not with cups of drink, but with experiences.
And it feels like a lot of no. So, I'll turn it over, let you look at the cover.
Yes, drinking clean water.
Yes, eating pure foods.
Yes, acknowledging my truth: I want to flee the feelings within me. I don't want to notice or name them. I don't want to feel them. I want to skip right to freeing them and feeling free of them. And so I dance away my anxiety, and I run to release my rage, and I walk in the woods to boot away worry.
I will allow it all. Let it all live. I will notice it and then express it. Perhaps then, I will remember my brilliant resilience.
