Regression Obsession
This is for you, illegal Beetle-driving girl <3
This is me right now:
I am the plate spinner who is about to lose control.
Four thousand dollar vet bills. Insurance appeals. Allergies. Sobriety. Feeding myself. Holding down a job. Chronic pain. Self-advocation. Medical gaslighting. Stigma. Misinformation.
Is teetering on the edge what it means to be a sober adult?
Is it normal to juggle this many things at once?
Does it ever get easier?
Because I’m human, I’ve been using regression to cope with the unsustainability of plate spinning. Don’t worry, I’m not drinking or using disordered eating behaviors. But I do find myself stuck in an icky loop. Netflix binges. Doomscrolling. Over-caffinating. Avoiding. Repeat.
As mentioned in my previous post, I am also spinning the car breathalyzer removal plate. One part of the application packet required by the Secretary of State is a final report from Smart Start, the breathalyzer company. In addition to the breathalyzer, a camera was also installed in my car. The final report contains all of the data from my first year behind the wheel. It includes each time I blew and a time-stamped photo of me if/when any violations occurred.
Good news: The report showed zero violations in the past twelve months.
Bad news: To my shock and horror, the report also included data from 2018 and 2019.
In the spring of 2018, I applied to get my driver’s license back as the probation for my second DUI came to an end. While waiting for the verdict, I bought a red ragtop Volkswagen Beetle without a driver’s license. Sounds crazy, I know. But I didn’t understand that folks are often denied the first time they apply. I only knew a life of white privilege, which meant that things always worked out in my favor.
By the time I received the denial letter in the summer of 2018, I had uprooted my entire life without any support and, naturally, began drinking (and driving) again. To avoid a third DUI, a breathalyzer was installed voluntarily via Smart Start. I might have been driving illegally, but at least the breathalyzer would inhibit the Beetle from starting if there was any alcohol in my system.
Needless to say, my life became a suffocating web of lies in 2018 and 2019, causing me to fall into one of the darkest seasons of regression that I have ever experienced. I was stuck in an icky loop. Alcohol. Tinder. Cocaine. Sexual assault. Repeat.
When I requested the Smart Start final report for my current breathalyzer removal application, there were pictures of me every time I violated while attempting to start the illegal Beetle. Seeing drunk, grainy photos of myself from 2018/2019 left me in an unbearably tender state. I coped with a three-day Netflix binge.
For Her
Every day
I thank the girl in me
that believed life could still be
something beautiful
even when
the cruelty of the world
was enough to chew her up
and spit her out
even when the ledge
was close enough for her
to end it all.
She still chose life.
And I owe it to her
to make something
good and kind of myself.
On the days I succeed
I put my hand on my heart
and whisper to her
”This is for you.”
-Nikita Gill
Peak fall color has arrived in Metro Detroit. I spent the weekend walking in the woods, giving the illegal Beetle version of myself the obsessive amount of care she needed back then. Savoring crunchy leaves beneath my feet is how I still choose life, how I make something good and kind of myself.
Holly Whitaker recently shared a podcast episode about how everything we’ve been taught about relapse/regression is wrong. Since listening to that episode, I’ve found myself in a regression obsession.
Nobody, including me, believed I was worthy of care when I was drinking. I often wonder how different things would’ve been if someone had said my 2018/2019 behaviors made perfect sense. But instead, I was arrested. Compassionate curiosity would change the addiction epidemic in this country. But instead, society chewed me up and spit me out, even when the ledge was close enough for me to end it all.
I also wonder if my obsession with progress is harmful. Maybe, like everything else, constant striving is rooted in white supremacy. Perhaps my regressive parts are my greatest teachers. The icky loop is showing up for a reason. What can I learn here?
The plates are spinning, friends.
I’m not coping perfectly, and that’s okay.
I don’t know if it ever gets easier.
For now, I will thank the illegal Beetle-driving girl who believed life could still be something beautiful.
For now, I will take long walks in the peak fall colored woods, put a hand over my heart, and whisper to her, “This is for you.”
Progress ...?
Nah, Regress …!
:)
P.S. Does anyone have any creative ways to make a few hundred bucks a month? If so, I’m interested.