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Julianna Vermeys's avatar

I am so fucking grateful for you Holly. Thank you, again, for publishing your words at exactly the moment I need to consider the ways I straddle the lines between authenticity and fitting in. Perimenopause has rendered me full clarity around the activities and substances I use as a way to participate in a capitalist sanctioned life and keep myself feeling sick and tired. I recognize, in this threshold place, that I must choose a path. Line straddling is not an option. It’s a watering down to drowning experiment. The consequences seem awful when I’m hanging on the line, but I can sense the freedom if I step into my own authentic reality more completely. My mom is dead now, my daughter went to college. There is no crisis to manage (outside of the dumpster fire of our country’s democracy). I have no excuses to not be fully inhabited. Right here. Years ago when I finally got off the drinking hamster wheel I realized the way the fracturing of the day with alcohol was similar to the feeling of my uncertain childhood. It was familiar to not know what tomorrow would be like. When I quit I felt this ease of day into night into day into night. At first I panicked and felt bored, but soon it felt like relief my NS needed like nothing else. I’m right back there again, only afraid of what will leave me next in my grief, my loss. Drinking is not going to keep that pain from coming. It will only make it harder to face when it does because I’m so goddamned fractured and fried. Moderation has kept me out of my body, sort of a glitch of myself. Clambering to keep myself tethered as I face these ultra impossible challenging times both in my personal and in our collective. What if I believe the world needed me to be something other than fitting in?

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Laura McKowen's avatar

This is so fucking good.

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