When I was in high school, my eardrum bursted. If you’ve ever bursted an eardrum, you know it’s kind of painful (okay, a lot) but mostly weird. And there’s a sort of relief afterward due to all the pressure that was building up. Maybe this is a cheap reach for an analogy, but I’ve really been thinking about this experience lately… in all the ways.
First, how long was that pressure building before the eardrum just said, “nope, I’m outta here, Vladimir.” Clearly, I’m a Russian dictator in this scenario. How long did the pain and suffering continue before it ruptured? I don’t remember, actually. I was far too concerned with what I was going to wear and whether or not so-and-so was going to talk to me than I was with actual physical pain.
Emotional pain is so similar. How often do we put up with raw and damaging pain until we snap and medicate … or worse. I had become far too concerned with what I should be doing than I was with whether I even wanted to do it. What should I wear to this wedding that I don’t even want to go to? And to numb the social awkwardness–my very best friend wine. Wine is like that garbage-person boyfriend that you bring to the wedding that no one actually likes, but no one has the guts to tell you he’s garbage. Because you seem happy. Right? Right!
Back to the ear. It didn’t heal on its own like they’re supposed to. Go figure that I’m not good on healing myself. That’s a totally different topic that I could unpack for hours. I ended up having a skin graft put over my eardrum. Do you want to know what I was most concerned with? Yes, I was concerned with the fact that they had to shave off some of my hair to retrieve the skin. I was so annoyed with the temporary discomfort that I didn’t even consider the longterm goodness it was bringing into my life.
Early sobriety is hard because it’s totally normalized that everyone drinks. So, clearly you must be either pregnant or fucked up to not want one. But it’s bringing so much goodness to my life that I just can’t think of a good reason to go back to that garbage person.
Happy Tuesday.
No Wine Mom 