3.4.2024 Irish Good-byes

0003 Go Easy on Me by Adele playing as I come back in after smoking a cigarette. Things are changing in the most beautiful way. I’m wearing Grandpa Jack’s argyle zip-up sweater and I can feel his presence, warm around me like a much-needed hug. In a cough syrup haze, I realize my feet/ankles being itchy must be Grandpa’s way of letting me know he’s near…I remember putting lotion on Grandpa Jack’s feet while he sat in his recliner when I was little. Random thoughts are criss-crossing through my hallucinogenic state of mind. Remembering the church where I was confirmed Lutheran, the lady who helped with the confirmation class was named Lindy, and she was a mentor when I was in nursing school and made sure we understood if at any time we were in doubt, to scream and shout…I remember Lindy taking care of my dad after his back surgery, his pain unrelenting, Lindy on the phone with the surgeon, insisting he do something more for the pain. Timelines raveling and unraveling, weaving this tapestry into something so beautiful, this so-called life.

0247 Such a magical night. Watching Phineas and Ferb, the annoying older sister Candice trying so hard to get her brothers in trouble. I remember my ex boyfriend often saying, “Worry about yourself and you’ll be busy all day…” What if I stopped worrying about everyone else, and just focused on myself? How amazing would that feel…to just set down those anxious worries and look inside, focus on myself for once. I started putting together my newest blog on Squarespace, naming it Chiron’s Lantern after one of my favorite constellations (along with Chariklo). Write, let the words flow. Connect the dots as I go. It’s almost magical how easily the tapestry weaves itself as I give into the lull and hum, a murmured lullaby of my Master’s Loom. The Loom of Love that connects us all.

Eagles’ Peaceful Easy Feeling playing in my ears, on my Pandora Thumbprint Radio station. It’s like the Universe has created a set list for me, and the songs keep coinciding perfectly with my thoughts as I go.

I watch Tracker on CBS, because I love the actor and the 2nd episode catches my eye, based in Missoula. I made a mental note to look up the novel The Never Game by Jeffrey Deaver.

1452 I wake up in a cold sweat, probably thanks to the DXM. I don’t remember my dreams, but I know I slept hard.

1705 I find myself at Paddy Murphy’s. I ask the waitress for whatever she thinks would give me the Irish experience. I’m not really hungry. She brings me a coffee with Irish liquor and an IPA. I call my mom back, letting her know I’m okay but I’m lonely. I’m honest with her, that I’m drinking but I’ve already rationalized it away in my brain. I don’t tell her about the DXM but she knows because I get extra spacey and forgetful. When I’m down the rabbit hole time is distorted and it’s hard to keep track of all the details when my mind is going so fast.

She asks me why, if I’m lonely, why don’t I go to a meeting instead of the bar? I tell her that would make way too much sense and I agree to trying it. I put it in my journal as a to do for the next day. I’m still spaced out from the DXM and I want to be able to go without feeling self conscious that others might notice I’m under the influence, or worse, end up in the ER and Acadia again. I’m walking a dangerous line and I know it.

The Fray is playing How to Save a Life…how do I save my own life…maybe one step at a time?

Garth Brooks’ Much Too Young (To Feel this Damn Old) plays next, a song I feel deeply. Thinking about Kevin Costner, realizing certain celebrities imprinted on me growing up. Kevin Costner in Dances with Wolves, then The Bodyguard, then the dad in the TV show Yellowstone. Garth Brooks, Lorrie Morgan, Reba McEntire, Taylor Swift, Faith Hill…they all held the flashlight for me as I turned to them for solace to help me navigate the craziness of life.

I post something to Facebook, wondering who my battle buddies are. Immediately four people respond, and suddenly I don’t feel so lonely anymore.

It’s scary as f*** reaching out for a helping hand, when the gremlins are at their worst, telling me no once cares. Yet in an act of blind faith I reach out anyway and am humbled by the outpouring of love. Sometimes in places I never expected at all.

I notice that this pub donates 100% of their food waste to a place called Chiron Farms, in Chester, ME. The synchronicity isn’t lost on me and I make a note to look into Chiron Farms…I’m curious if they have the same appreciation for Chiron as I do.

I feel like I should eat but I’m just not hungry. Keith Whitley’s When You Say Nothing at All croons in my AirPods, reassuring me, letting me know that whenever I fall I will be okay.

1723 Watching the crows fly outside, high in the sky. I always look to the birds, the stars to reassure me everything will be okay.

Being this far down the rabbit hole it’s hard to tell what is fact and what is fiction. So I become a mirror and gauge my response by whatever input I’m getting. Taylor Swift’s Style (TV) plays and I appreciate the lyrics, the melody. I love how I can cocoon into my own little bubble. I love watching people, studying their clothes for clues into their motives and personality traits. Their body language.

Rihanna’s Take a Bow is on now, and maybe this time I set the bar a little higher as to who has access to my energy.

Sending messages to my battle buddies…human connection is so interesting. It’s like a dance, a give and take of consent and love.

I am so blessed to have so many people who love me the way my loved ones do. Feeling a little buzzed, a little content. Shooting my arrows, trusting the Universe that it has my back and everything will be okay. The idea of travel nursing has me excited.

Steffany Gretzinger is singing We Dance, then Amanda Cook’s The Voyage. The lyrics to both songs resonate deeply.

I talk with Dad and he tells me to watch The Americans. I make a to do list for the next day and fall asleep.

Sweet dreams, chickadee

Adele crooning Lovesong, an Irish coffee, an IPA, and a blue glass of ice water in front of me. It’s March 4th, and I can’t help but wondering if it’s SJs birthday today. I fire off a quick message to Mom. Rosie is in the back of my head, feeling ashamed because she and I both know we disrespected him in his own house with our sneakiness. Yet we also know he loves us and just wants us to be happy and safe, like any father.

However far away I will always love you However long I stay I will always love you Whatever words I say I will always love you…

Maybe the Irish dip out without saying good bye because that’s the magic of the Celtic way…when they leave without saying good bye it’s because they remain there in spirit.

I have all these journals in front of me. Part of me is apprehensive about unpacking them, looking through them, but Rosie is wrapped up close by, purring as she snores with smoke ebbing and flowing from her nostrils.

Mom just called because of my question. SJs birthday is March 12th not March 4th. I don’t know why it’s so hard to keep it straight…so many beginnings in March I guess. And endings. Pisces to Aries.

I’m getting in my head again, need to pull out and realize I’m safe, I am okay. Mom suggested finding a meeting, and that might be a good idea. Think I’ll look for one now. Maybe it’s not so much as not drinking, but the connection of being with each other, in the trenches. Anyway, I looked it up and there’s three meetings I want to hit tomorrow.