Mixed Metaphors

“You have no need to travel anywhere – journey within yourself. Enter a mine of rubies and bathe in the splendor of your own light.”  — Rumi

As a writer and a blogger, I named my blog, Mixed Metaphors, Oh My! I found that metaphors helped me explore lived experiences, ideas, and a spiritual life, and articulate how I see and interact with the world, or journey inward in self-examination.

A Metaphor for Recovery

The latter was helpful in identifying a title for this essay. I experienced some ambivalence to mark this anniversary of 40 years of recovery from alcohol, substances, codependent relationships, and harming behaviors, to draw attention to it, to say out loud, I’ve been sober for 40 years! In some recovery circles, we focus on not drinking, not drugging, not fill-in-the blank, for 24 hours, one day at a time. We do that so we stay humble, and respect the power of alcohol or substance use in our lives, so we don’t pick up the drink or drug.

In 12-Step meetings and treatment centers we receive recovery medallions that mark completing treatment, or an anniversary. I received my first recovery medallion in 1985 when I completed outpatient treatment for alcoholism. When my mother went into treatment for alcoholism, after a failed intervention for our father, I placed my medallion in her hand as I drove her to the treatment center. When they admitted her and inspected her purse and clothing for drugs or alcohol, she was holding the medallion in her clasped hand. The counselor asked her to open her hand, she refused.

When she finally opened her hand and revealed the medallion, they said keep holding it. Mom was sober for over 20 years when she died. When Mom died, I placed it in her casket. It was returned to me before they closed it. “What goes around, comes around.”

I also inherited the Serenity Prayer that she cross-stitched after treatment. It hangs behind my desk at work, as an LGBTQ+ AODA and Harm Reduction Advocate and Wisconsin Certified Peer Specialist. The medallion is in eyesight at my desk at home in my writing alcove. A daily reminder to stay sober for 24 hours. Grateful.

Mining was the metaphor that best described my experience of the past 40 years of recovery. It’s been a journey inward, a practice of self-inventory, a look back at the past to help chart a pathway to the future. As I marked this milestone, 40 years of one day at a time, I was curious what the gift was for this anniversary, besides of course, the most important gift, my sobriety and recovery. Like wedding anniversaries, traditionally, there’s a gift associated when a milestone is reached. For 40 years, it’s a ruby.

I’m grateful for many things, today of course, my 40 years of sobriety. I’m also grateful for the curiosity and love of the meaning of words that I reclaimed from my youth, and the playful wordplay and insight of metaphors. I’ve been mining for rubies the past 40 years.  And, yes, I’m grateful. I often end journal entries with the following, Life is good. I’m grateful. Thanks, H.P.!  

Rubies as a Metaphor

What I didn’t realize when I first learned that rubies were the traditional gift for a 40^th anniversary, was the spiritual meaning associated with the gemstone. The following symbolism seemed like a perfect metaphor for my recovery anniversary. 

The Enduring Power of Ruby Symbolism (from the International Gem Society)

The ruby’s rich symbolic history:

• Rubies have served as protective talismans across numerous cultures, believed to shield wearers from harm and misfortune.
• The gem’s blood-red color created strong associations with life-force and healing properties, leading to its use in traditional medicine.
• Ruby’s inner luminosity spawned legends about its ability to generate light and heat, enhancing its mystical reputation.
• Hindu traditions elevate the ruby to supreme status among gemstones, connecting it to divine offerings and reincarnation as royalty. Dreams of rubies were interpreted as omens of success, prosperity, and good fortune across various occupations.

A Journey of Recovery: What It Was Like Then, What It Is Like Now

During the past 40 years of recovery from alcohol, almost 39 years from nicotine, and decades and 24 hours at a time, from codependent relationships, and harming behaviors, I’ve attended and facilitated countless 12-Step and Harm Reduction meetings.

What It Was Like Then

Whenever we have a newcomer at a meeting, I’m reminded, “What it was like then, and what it is like now!” It’s a gift to realize how much my life has changed, how the promises of the program have come true, and how the nature of my problems are different. There was a time I didn’t know how I’d get by the next hour without a drink, or cigarette. I didn’t know how I could cope or overcome the challenges of daily living, and survive a ‘dark night of the soul.’  Gratefully, I did.

I was a high-functioning alcoholic. For the most part, I disguised my dependency, though when I drank too much socially, at family or work gatherings, people excused it as one-off occurrences. Those one-off occurrences became more frequent and I often needed to make amends for my behavior. When I had too much to drink, I became a melancholy drunk, a ‘poor me, sitting on the pity pot.’ Not a pretty picture, and not behavior people want to be around.

I’m grateful I never received a DUI, though I did drive drunk. I’m most grateful I never endangered anyone’s life. I performed at work, contributed to community as a volunteer and social activist, paid my bills, appeared to the world as responsible adult, though the sphere in my life that suffered the most were in my family and intimate and romantic relationships. The irony is, more than anything else, I wanted to be successful in that area the most. I wasn’t. I stopped drinking, though I wasn’t recovering. I was what is commonly referred to as a dry drunk.

I have a family history of alcoholism on both maternal and paternal sides. My parents too, also struggled with alcohol dependency, and came from families marked by alcoholism, abandonment, sexual acting out, and physical abuse. Family members died from alcohol-related diseases, suicide, and gun violence. Alcoholism and substance use is often characterized as a family disease.   

One of the many things I’m most grateful for is the timing when I sought help. A number of things coalesced. The Betty Ford Center opened, medical professionals were publishing studies and books on the disease approach to alcoholism, treatment centers facilitated interventions and offered free educational workshops.

The book, Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACOA) by Janet Geringer Woititz was publish and a Madison, Wisconsin treatment center, Madison Family Institute (MFI), hosted a series of the 13-characteristics of Adult Children of Alcoholics. It was easier to see myself as a product of my family heritage, rather than fully admit to my dependency. Remember, I stopped drinking, though I wasn’t recovering.

Pathway to Recovery

After attending the series of educational talks with my partner at the time, when it was apparent that our relationship was in trouble because of my past alcohol dependency and lack of recovery. I read the book in one setting and made the decision to get help. I didn’t want to lose my committed relationship.

I made an appointment at MFI, which later became the DePaul Treatment Center for an assessment for alcoholism. Not only had I stopped drinking before that appointment, I had recently quit smoking. I was a mess, not having any of my coping tools, as dysfunctional and unhealthy as they were. I arrived for my appointment, confessed that I had smoked a cigarette, and the admission counselor told me, let’s work on one thing at a time!

The assessment revealed that, yes, I had a dependency on alcohol and like the book and workshop series I attended, I would need to eventually address my family and codependent relationship issues and history. First, learn recovery tools for a healthy sobriety. I continued to work at my job and attended a 6-week outpatient recovery program in the evenings. I was assigned a therapist, participated in group therapy sessions, and attended 12-Step meetings in treatment. Like my past growing up, I was a motivated student. I started feeling hopeful and physically better. In treatment I needed to access the emotions that I had been stuffing with alcohol, nicotine, and compulsive and emotional eating.

My partner decided to take a trip with her son, who I was coparenting (I was the non-biological parent) to her former home in Huntsville, AL and visit her former partner. While she was gone, I suffered separation and anticipatory anxiety and my fear of abandonment ratcheted-up. I persevered and attended multiple 12-Step meetings, especially on weekends and continued almost daily entries in the recovery journals I began in treatment. After days of silence, as my anxiety increased, she called to let me know when she was returning and that we could finally have ‘the talk’ I was requesting in-person, not over the phone.

When she returned home, she informed me that later in the month she was leaving the relationship and returning to Huntsville to live with her former partner. Oh, My! While she was away the time was an opportunity to get clear on what she needed to do. She wanted to end this easily, uncouple as friends, and focus her time and energy on her son.

She was returning to live in Huntsville at the end of the month. Besides the issues in our relationship, she was struggling with her relationship and the demands of her mother, and felt dead-ended in her job. All I heard was, she was leaving me.

Commitment to Recovery

This became a turning point, a litmus test of my resolve and commitment to recovery. I was no longer staying sober to save the relationship, in fact, I was staying sober for me, one day at a time to recover my life. This was a heartbreaking time. I was not only losing my partner, but the young son I had been coparenting and who I loved with all my heart. I was still in treatment, gratefully, I had access to support in addition to the recovery meetings I was attending.

We had to quickly negotiate the division of our possessions, responsibility for our new car which was purchased jointly. I would make the remaining payments and keep the car, and she would sign off on the title when it was fully paid. The lease for our apartment would be my responsibility too. I didn’t have the energy to sublease the apartment. Most of the furniture was mine. The new TV was hers. I needed to cash-out my 401k to get an influx of cash to cover the new living expenses.

We never fully processed the ending of our relationship.  I didn’t get the opportunity to make amends. She didn’t want contact after she moved, and there was no plan for me to stay connected to her son. I took him out on a date to his favorite place, Ella’s Deli for lunch and ice cream. I wrote him a letter and shared the contents with him. It was one of the saddest goodbyes of my life.

After they left, I wrote her this poem. We had a nature preserve outside our apartment where we would take walks as a family. Before we’d enter the woods, there was prairie and lots of sumac that would turn red in late summer early fall. I found a temporary sponsor, Jane, who ultimately remained my A.A. sponsor. She told me to not make any major changes in my life, including jumping into anther relationship for at least a year.  I began attending an Aftercare Program, continued A.A. and later Al-Anon meetings. I joined a UnityPoint Health NewStart Women’s ACOA Support Group led by a therapist.

During this challenging period of recovery, transition, and loss, I was managing the largest project of my career as an account manager for a screen-printing company, all the graphic display panels for the new State of Wisconsin Historical Society Museum on the Capitol Square.  It was the end of August, 1985.

I was 35 years old and sober. One day at a time, I abstained from alcohol, quit smoking, had setbacks, including emotional eating, overspending, and codependent relationships. For 10 years, I saw a therapist who supported my recovery, my identity as a lesbian, relationships with romantic partners, family, and friends. I joined a Healthy Lesbian Relationship Therapy Group, where I met my future long-term partner.  

What It Is Like Now

For the past 17 years, I’ve lived alone, yet my life is full and rich with bio and chosen family, friends, work colleagues, and community cohorts. In 2020, I began working half-time for the OutReach LGBTQ+ Community Center as an LGBTQ+ AODA and Harm Reduction Advocate and became a Wisconsin Certified Peer Specialist. I lead recovery meetings and support peers who are still struggling with alcohol, substances, relationships, and harming behaviors. In my work, I create and present recovery workshops addressing the healing power of storytelling and sharing our lived experiences as a pathway to recovery and wellness.

In December of 2023, our father died, making me the eldest survivor of our family. I returned to therapy, to work on the unhealthy ways I coped as a child in response to trauma, shame, and stigma. I also acknowledged that I was loved unconditionally and that my parents did the best that they could, given the environments in which they were raised. Before I used alcohol and drugs, I used food all my life to comfort myself, yet it was an unhealthy way to cope, causing me lifelong weight problems, diminished self-esteem, and adult-onset diabetes. In addition to therapy, I now take a GLP-1 medication to manage diabetes, reduce my weight, and regain health.

My recovery journals led to a lifetime of journaling. I journaled off and on until I separated from my long-term partner. Since then, I’ve journaled continuously for 17 years. I became a writer by writing. For 10 years I’ve published my blog, Mixed Metaphors, Oh My!, chronicling the mundane moments of everyday life, sharing stories of recovery, reminiscences, poetry chapbooks, and commentary on culture and politics, hoping that my personal experience resonated with others. I continue to work on my memoir, Perfectly Flawed.

I’ve mined for rubies these past 40 years, and my life is full, rich, and abundant with gratitude. I may not possess everything I want, but I have everything I need. I’m grateful!

Related Reading from Mixed Metaphors. Oh My!

The Power of Circles

Journal/Journey

Self-Care During Uncertain Times

Finding Recovery Strategies

The Road Forward: A Recovery Journey

Celebrating a Decade of Mixed Metaphors, Oh My!

On Writing & Storytelling

Fifteen Valentines

Another Dispatch from the Hideout

Hibernation & the Holidays: Retreat to the Hideout

More Reading on the Topic

International Gem Society