Woke up early. Settled my emotions. Accomplished everything on my to do list including car maintenance, hair cut, just a few glasses of wine, and cleaning up. Had a good conversation. A nice trip with Thom to the airport for our global entry interview. Day one of summer break and I’m feeling relaxed and happy. Still worried about my liver health. Anxious about my personal trainer tomorrow. But not sad to lay down and looking forward to waking up. 

Posted in journal | Leave a comment


The beginning of this year, January 1st to be exact, I got some acute illness and spent the day vomiting and laying in bed. On that day, I didn’t have a drink.

Now over 6 months later, I have achieved just one more day without a drop of alcohol. Today. It seems small, and easily undone, but at some point you have to start and be successful and then just continue to do that same thing every day hereafter.

I don’t know my end goal, but I want to make sure I’m not killing my liver, cholesterol levels, and heart. And I want to put my life together after all the stress and strife that has overcome me and nearly destroyed my 16 year-old relationship with Thom.

I want to find happiness in the moments that fill up my days. Sometimes there are too many moments, and they are painfully present. Other days I blink and they are gone. In the past there was usually an empty glass in my hand. Now I hope to hold my own potential instead.

Posted in journal | Leave a comment


Last Thursday afternoon, after a year + of anxiety, stress, arguing, counseling, denial, and drinking…. Thom finally confessed to his infidelity. And what a confession: using slight of hand to have me focused on one man, he’d actually also been doing much worse with another. Both were friends. The one Thom had been fucking in total secret was a close friend. It was a painful weekend, but in a way it was so oddly relaxing. 

Finally, we can talk and he can’t make me feel like I’m crazy. Finally, there is some no-holds-barred honesty. Finally, though oddly placed, there was some intense connection and love. Finally,  I’ve been able to release all my pain I’ve been carrying for so long. 

I have no idea where this leaves me or what happens now. I have to deal with how badly I’ve been treated and if my love can outshine that treatment. I have to try and get healthy after so much stress and alcohol. Thom and I must try and rebuild a whole new relationship if that’s what we decide. I have to let myself feel it all. 

Posted in journal | Leave a comment

Real talkĀ 

I’ve been waking up with crusty eyes. 

I’ve been going to sleep alone. 

My body is swollen. 

Tonight he said he didn’t want to give me a hug. 

We talk about (his) loss or pain. 

I drink mine away. 

He’s mourning the loss of being with other men. 

I’m feeling bad because I just want to be with him. 

Welcome to Wednesday. 

Posted in journal | Leave a comment


What is this? Silence. Exhaustion. Distance.

I want to try and cross the distance. But it also seems like I must be the bridge that we walk across. Is it worth it? Am I fighting a lost cause?

My fear is that when all is said and done, you are just looking for an excuse to walk. Over me? With me? I want us to walk together; but that feels so far tonight.

Exhaustion? I just wish we could relax together.

Posted in journal | Leave a comment


This cycle needs to end. 

Posted in journal | Leave a comment


Supplanting another’s consciousness is a delicate balance of exploring and yielding. Because all memories are stored in meaningful layers within the folds of the brain, I do not have access to the entirety of  my new past all at once. I must become aware, usually via serendipity. 

This actually helps my cause due to the fact that all feelings today are shaped by how we view and remember past experiences. In the recalibration it is important that I maintain objectivity as much as possible (until I become too ensnared in this body and it’s processing faculties.) And so I spend my initial days just allowing the body to follow it’s normal unconscious routine. Humans don’t realize how often they move, talk, and respond simply out of muscle memory. 

So far this morning I’ve experienced this body (again I need to get used to saying my body) waking up, playing on a phone for two hours,  greeting his husband, pleasuring himself, attending therapy, and ordering a drink along the river walk needing absolutely no help from its consciousness: Me. 

Pivoting from habit to choice is as simple as deciding to do so, and yet it is my most harrowing task and the reason I exist. 

Posted in draft, drinking, excavator, journal, talk therapy, writing | Leave a comment