Nobody Fixed Me. I Just Stopped Performing.

When I started drinking in high school, it was for one reason: to fit in. And it worked, kind of. I laughed and had fun, but except for my real friends, I never really fit in. I wasn't "popular," never went to Homecoming or Prom, and as a result I never quite felt "good enough." The beer helped. I learned how to be a party girl.

By the time I met my would-be husband at forty, I had this drinking thing down, and I'd found a new drinking buddy. We were the "fun couple." The party didn't start until we walked through the door. (Or at least that's how it felt.) Long before we got married (it was a seven-year courtship, for fuck's sake), I started to notice that my drinking was becoming maybe an "issue."

At first, the wine's job was to shut up the two conflicting voices in my head. One said, "I can do it all." The other said, "Who the fuck do I think I am?" A couple of glasses in, I didn't have to listen to either one. I just had fun.

Then life handed me a loss I didn't know how to carry, my father's death by suicide, and the wine took on a much heavier job. Now I was drinking to cope with the guilt. The fun was long gone by then. It took one very bad night in 2009 for me to see what the wine had been doing for me all along.

When I got sober, the wine left. The job stayed. That's where the real work started. Recovery practically became my full-time job that first year. My life depended on it.

I was running my own kitchen and bath design business when the economy bottomed out and work slowed to a crawl. By then I'd spent the small inheritance my father left me, and it was time for a "real job." So I went back to my roots, the oil and gas industry, where I'd been laid off 14 years earlier. To my amazement, I was hired at a salary I'd only dreamed of, with incredible benefits.

And I kept my recovery a secret. I was ashamed that I had to stop drinking. I still felt like a failure at life. At fun. I didn't want anyone to know. Some of the people I worked with were great. Many of them were toxic, and that environment took a toll. Fortunately, big changes started coming from the top down, and the culture slowly became more cohesive.

I'm grateful for that recovery foundation, because it was put to the test six years in, on my 58th birthday, when I woke up from surgery to hear that I had Stage 1C ovarian cancer. After six rounds of chemo, I started taking stock. It took a while, but I realized my values no longer lined up with those of the industry I worked in. I wanted work that helps people and the earth we all live on. So at 61, I began training to be a Wayfinder Life Coach, and then to be an Equus Coach and Master Facilitator.

I spent decades playing different roles and pretending I was "fine." I was raised  to always “have my manners in my pocket” and to be a good girl, student, employee, and to fucking “smile”. Nobody fixed me. I just got tired of the costume.

These days I show up as exactly who I am. I built my company without waiting for permission, and I'm not about to start asking now.

If you've been playing a role, and you're fucking over it, let's chat.

If you're struggling, call or text 988.