Poet With a Day Job

It was only after the twenty-minute full-on sob that I said to L,

“I think this must be my period. I’m not sure this emotional explosion is really in proportion to what is going on.”

Ahhh, the voice of reason amongst the maelstrom. But let me back up.

I was looking forward to celebrating my 7-year sobriety anniversary in LA. After all, LA has the notoriety around the Bay Area of being a BIG AA birthday city. Cakes. Clapping. Howdjya Do-its. So me and L planned to go to a meeting in the morning on my birthday so we could start the day off on the right foot.

Well, it would have helped to wake up on the right side of the bed, which I didn’t. L lost a precious sentimental earring in the pool and we ate uber salty food and didn’t have enough water the night before, and the bed was made of steel springs and wood paneling.

Needless to say when the alarm went off at 6-ish, we popped up puffy, irritated, and miserable. We went down to the pool to try to find the earring (pipe dream) and when we didn’t, L had a mini breakdown which we both realized was simply because she was starving. So we hopped in the car and went foraging in LA.

Now, this would have been fine, but I just got out of bed and threw my clothes on. I didn’t know that, after we searched aimlessly for that earring that we were going to be out for the day. I felt wocky, supremely puffy (I had like, a pair of samsonite matching luggages under my blue eyepups) and headachey. I should have known this was my period a-comin. I think I might have suggested that it was. But since there was no blood proof of it, then I was all…I dunno (it’s irregular…and still not here goddamit!)

So we find a wonderful farmer’s market in Venice that is serving prepared foods in some of its booths. We stop at the first and foremost stand - tamales - and eat three of them. Mine was blue corn with Jack Cheese and green chili. SO GOOD! L got two, one for each hand and put them down easy.

So then we went to the meeting. It was a good meeting, but it was a meeting in which they only celebrate AA birthdays once per month! At the end of the month! Considering it was May 4…we were shit out of luck. it was also a speaker calls on you meeting, and I did not get called on so couldn’t just say it.

Now, there was another meeting I had thought would be good to go too, but this one was across town at 11:30 am (the one we just left finished at 11). Pouting, we got into the car and I started racing around, being irritable, jerky, and plain madpants because 1) if we go we’re guaranteed to be late, and 2) I don’t know where I’m going and the map we have has a crease right in the spot where this meeting is so 3) we’re probably going to be really, really late.

We go anyway, and are, indeed, late. The meeting was amazing though, but the LA people, so up in excitements and joyments about birthdays always do them at the top of the meeting (SF BAY does their at the ends) so WE MISSED THE B-DAYS AGAIN!!!!! And though I raised my hand, I didn’t not get called on to talk so couldn’t just announce it.

By now, I am feeling so incredibly sorry for myself. I just wanted to announce it and have people clap for me. I wanted recognition and support. And even as I wanted it, I was like “You big selfish baby. Get over yourself. You don’t need praise.” Somehow in my mind I kept thinking that our missing the b-day celebrations was an omen from God telling me I needed to not talk about it and be humble. The problem (I realize now, in happy hindsight) is that I wasn’t being NOT humble by wanting to celebrate my sober b-day. 7 years is a big stupid fucking deal and it feels good when people show you love and support. I wanted some. I needed some outpourings. I was actually in need of, and ready to accept, loves! Nothing unhumble about that.

So after this meeting I am hot and thirsty and want to go swimming back at the hotel, thinking this will make me feel better. L wants to go walking, or to the beach. I start my spiral. We fight. She’s precious and nice and amazingly unconfrontational to me even as I am harassing and ignoring her by turns. So I have a tantrum then take us to the beach. We finally get on the sand and sit down and I start BAWLING like there’s no tomorrow. Nobody loves me God doesn’t love me I just want to celebrate my birthday I feel so sad and I don’t know what’s wrong…on and on.

Poor L: she just let me weep and rubbed my back. Nice girlfriend. After I was such a pain in the ass ruining our day. Soon, there’s so much snot being produced I have to blow my nose and we have nothing. So I dig a hole in the sand, blow my nose in my hands and shake it into the hole. Then I get up to wash them in the ocean.

I come back and ask L if she’ll go on that stupid Santa Monica Beach Board walk rollercoaster with me and she says yes. I realize I am obviously not right today, that it is probably period-related. I cite an example from last month in which my emotional reaction is way out of proportion to the issue at hand - same day of the month, too. This helps me LGALG (let go and let god).

We go to the rides and it is fun and we get whiplash because we are too damn old for shit like that, then we ride the carousel and get our fortunes told by a creepy animatronic palm reader (like in the movie Big) and head back to the car for dinner with L’s parents. More Mexican. Best thing in LA.

Afterward, L says, “Let’s try one more meeting. It’s closeby.” I’m doubtful and stubborn, but eventually get on board. This time we are early enough to get my name in for birthdays. I am the only one. They sing to me, I blow out seven candles. I get hugs and they give me one minute at the podium to say how I did it.

naturally I tell them the story of my day like I just told you and they laughs and say awwwws. I feel loved and welcome, and not alone. And I tell them So, if you ask me how I did it, accepting help (L’s suggestion to go to one more meeting) and persistence, trying three times even as I was miserable.