So I had this gut feeling as I was approaching the year mark to being alcohol free that I picked the wrong start date to my journey. I did my best when I first got an app to really try and pin point when I thought I started—I wanted it to be accurate.
I used to make these “Ava cocktails” videos and send them to friends which was me just having a liquor, some juice and sparkling water and call it a day—usually it was to cheers to the end of the day or cheers to the weekend. When trying to find the date to say this was the last time I did this I came to July 22nd. However, today time hop reminded me that on July 28th 2023 I partook in some alcohol. I will say this though, I still haven’t had anything to drink because I haven’t felt the “need”, so I still made it a year! (We will just say that July is my one year anniversary month 😅😵💫) I should have when choosing a date went with July 30th like my original guess back when I realized in August 2023 that I was taking a long break—but I really wanted to feel more accomplished? I wanted to get as close as I could to accurate..even though I wasn’t right haha Cheers to me though because even when feeling overwhelmed, sad, and anxious I still chose to do something different than to end the day with a glass of alcohol. ✌🏻 (Also I swear to goodness if time hop shows me another instance of me getting my date wrong I guess I’ll just say GOOD ENOUGH and refer to my post about the lessons learned because regardless of the actual date, I had some really hard things to learn this year without anything to “make it better” aside from my own self work and damn it, I put in the work to know that a cocktail out with my husband is where I want to go in regards to my alcohol consumption, not a “treat” to end my day with)
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365 days, one year. (EDIT : the official year date is hard for me to pin point since I made the decision to make it a year without alcohol in the middle of August 2023–I’m finding that the choice was really made at the end of July—still not 💯 sure which date was the last day I had my last sip of alcohol—needless to say the thoughts and feeling that follow in this blog post still apply and all the lessons have deeply impacted me) (Technically 366 because of the leap year—really wanted to go that extra mile haha) One year (366 days) without any alcohol. In some ways, I'm at a loss for words, but only because I have so much to say and don't know where to begin. These 366 days have been transformative, and I feel lighter on the other side. For most of my life, I struggled with low self-esteem, primarily due to challenging social interactions outside the home. My parents were always my safe space. However, despite their constant presence, I often felt like an outsider in social situations, especially as someone who identifies as a late-diagnosed autistic person. I never knew how to join conversations, struggled with reciprocal energy, and often didn't share the same interests as my peers. Feedback during my middle and high school years only reinforced this sense of not belonging. Whether it was my so-called "friends" sophomore year of high school telling me I could meet up with them in town, only to ghost me by not answering my calls and texts—leading me to sit on the grassy knoll by the church because I was too ashamed to walk home—or feeling like an outsider on my soccer teams despite my efforts to be pleasant, it always felt like I was on the outside looking in. Every year, without fail, something would happen that caused my friends to drift away, and I could never pinpoint why. Usually, it was something I did, but even after months or years of ruminating, I still couldn’t figure out how I could have done things differently. I know now that I was missing social cues and reading events in an atypical way. I take responsibility for the fact that I caused friends to drift away, but it was because my instincts on how to be social weren’t great. All these events taught me, subconsciously, that Ava wasn’t enough and that I had to keep adjusting myself to fit into this world. Not immediately, but over time and definitely once I was of the legal drinking age, alcohol became a coping mechanism for my low self-esteem. I had all this “relationship trauma” stored within me, I was anxious to be around people and interact because of all the past experiences with peers. Alcohol helped me stop overthinking and "relaxed" me. Friends would tell me that "drunk Ava was way more fun," and in some ways, she was. But eventually, my true self would unmask, and all the pain and sadness would spill out. I realize now that these were the meltdowns I couldn't always have in my day-to-day life. People were often confused by my sudden emotional outbursts, which were difficult to understand and fix. I still received feedback that I didn't quite "fit in" and wasn't "doing life right.
Fortunately, I found my husband, Kevin, who has healed me in so many ways. He has always allowed me to be myself, loving me, flaws and all. Although I tried to keep my drinking in check, I used it as a way to cope with overwhelming and overstimulating environments. At social gatherings, I often felt uncomfortable in my own skin and relied on liquid courage to ease conversations and keep my hands busy. However, when my sons' disabilities became more challenging, I felt an increasing need to cope with my emotions. I tried to avoid these feelings by making it all "feel" better with alcohol. Outside of my sons' disabilities, I was also grappling with feelings of rejection and being discarded, and alcohol helped not feel that pain. This year, I've learned to face my emotions head-on without the crutch of alcohol. It has been a wild ride and something I never thought I would be able to accomplish. There were many times I was so present in the moment, knowing that in any other year I would be having a drink. Instead, I chose to be uncomfortable and sit with myself. I had to actually intellectualize and pin point what was causing me pain and then allow myself to feel that feeling (wild, I know). I highly recommend that everyone takes a conscious break from any substance they find they are too willing to use as an autopilot mechanism because it really illuminates the choices we make. This year has been a journey of self-discovery and healing, and I'm proud of the progress I've made. 365 days without alcohol has shown me that I am enough, just as I am. As I move past this one-year mark, I will reassess my relationship with alcohol. My goal is to be like my mother, who can nurse one drink all night (the dream)! I won’t know until I reintroduce it how I can move forward, so be patient with me as I figure it all out. I am so thankful to the friends and family who have supported me this past year. I couldn’t have done all this physical, mental, and emotional work without you. While Julian was playing on his iPad he started going through the photographs that are connected to Kev’s phone. I didn’t realize that ALL these photogroahs existed of not only me, but of me with my sweet babes. One of these photogrpahs is the first photograph of when I held both boys at once 🥹.
When Julian was finished playing on his iPad I had to air drop the images to myself. I needed to have these to look back on and cherish. And before anyone thinks that it’s the fault of Kevin for not sharing with me hold your horses because I know that when he took these images I hated them. That tends to be the pattern because I have body dysmorphia and most images of myself I have to have time apart from the moment they are taken to process how I feel. Kevin knows this because he has heard many times how I don’t like xyz, and that’s the problem with body dysmorphia, you really can never see yourself. You need so much space and time to even appreciate yourself. I thank Kevin for taking photographs regardless, because these do mean the world to me because it’s how you see me 😘 I have more thoughts on how to further clarify myself from yesterday’s post. If you know me, you know how I love to over explain myself in order to make sure there is no room for misunderstanding.
As we walked the boys today finding as much shade as possible I wanted to make it clear how I don’t want the boys to CHANGE. They truly are living their best unmasked life, and truly more people should be following their lead of being authentically themselves. This is where I, highly masked autistic person, is trying to navigate this world and this society that we live in. Again, constantly trying to balance it all—finding the grey within my every own black and white thinking, The grief I inevitably experience is more tied to the idea of what I thought my life would be based off of my lived experience. It’s very common for autistics to not be able to “compute” the reality versus the expectation (many of my son’s meltdowns have been cause by the reality of the situation NOT meeting their pattern recognition for the outcome). I love uniqueness that is both Harrison and Julian. They each are SO their very own person, and each interact in the world in a way that is a wonder to see. They do not perform, they do not appease for the sake of niceties. They are honest in all their being, and as someone who appreciates honesty I am very proud of them. I am honored to how much affection they show me, because it is not manipulative in ANY way, they show their love because it is WHAT they FEEL. They have so many wonderful things and when they choose you to be in their life it truly cannot be beat. What I wanted to express yesterday was the idea of how “jokes on me” that I have to process MANY emotions all at once for little things when emotions in general are a lot for me handle. That I am being made to learn even more than I ever thought I could through my sons just being who they authentically are—I know deep down that it is all meant to be this way because I don’t know if I would have the emotional and socially battery to parent a more neurotypical child. I hate to say it, but the idea of “small talk friends” with my child’s friends parent is something I don’t think I would be successful at 😂 (a foot would be inserted in my mouth at SOME point i guarantee it). So I guess to wrap up my thoughts, I am grateful to have my boys be who they are because as I’ve said to before I would never have truly known myself if I didn’t haven them to guide me~ *edited 9/22 to clarify and add more context and realizations to this post* (bold and italicized are the edits)
The boys have been going through many wonderful changes since the end of their school year. They’ve been able to accomplish so many new behaviors and skills that have been absolutely amazing to witness. For example, there are moments when Julian is able to walk, and I don't have to run away or worry about the stress being too much. In those moments, a wave of relief washes over me, mixed with a sense of grief. It's a strange feeling, experiencing both emotions at once. It's one of those things where you realize that everyone else gets to experience this, and it hurts because it feels like I've waited so much longer for what others seem to just “have”. The duality of raising special needs children is something I will forever have to acclimate to, however I am always grateful for it (the duality) as well. As a parent of a special needs child, valid emotions are often minimized. People tend to say things like "every child does that" or "it's going to be okay," which can be disheartening. I am an over-thinker and I feel things deeply, so when someone minimizes my experience (or even my children’s experiences), it's incredibly frustrating. I feel frustrated because I know what we can and cannot do with absolute certainty, and then I'm told that every child “does that.” This cannot be true because I witness many things other children can do that my children (at this time) cannot. (And I don’t want to just make them do things that will be too much for them because they don’t deserve unnecessary stress just to “do stereotypical things). I am the voice and advocate for my children until they can communicate more efficiently with others. I know from experience that they’ll feel themselves that even when they think they can “just do it” it'll be taxing, and I have a feeling they’ll feel a similar frustration that I feel as their mother now. I want them to know from my example that they don’t have to do everything in a way that is stereotypical or just because it’s a “should” of society. We as a family have decided to do our best to create unique and specific experiences for ourselves that way our boys live with just as much joy. I am thankful to be my son's mother and to share a similar wiring and diagnosis because it helps me understand what they are going through. However, it can sometimes feel like a cruel joke to experience such deep emotions. It is difficult to handle feelings of rejection, particularly when they stem from missing out on experiences I had hoped for as a parent. While comparing myself to others diminishes my joy, it is an inevitable aspect of human nature. Despite our efforts to avoid comparisons, it is a common practice that helps us, as a society, navigate life's experiences. However, as much as we are grateful and as much as we do our best to create memories that suit our lives I can envy how effortlessly other parents plan play dates, go to restaurants and even have changes in plans. Even though, I hate surprises or last minute plans myself…and creating new friendships can give me overwhelming anxiety. As much as we love playdates with the friends who understand our needs it can be the most challenging to navigate the change in routine. This is where the belittlement of my valid anxiety comes into play. I understand what my sons can handle, and it can be frustrating to feel judged for prioritizing their peace over pushing them out of their comfort zone. Being their parent is a constant balancing act because I am their safe space, but also the one who must guide them to where they need to go. I am mostly grateful for the complex emotions we experience, though it can be exhausting to feel everything so deeply. The concept of contentment is always on my mind, and I find it challenging to live by that rule. I even had it tattooed onto my right wrist to remind myself to be content with all we have in our life. It feels like my life’s work is to balance the conflicting emotions of happiness and desire for more when a milestone is reached, only to have the goalpost moved; it feels like a constant struggle. Ultimately, I remain hopeful that we will eventually achieve our goals and access experiences that currently feel out of reach. Despite the obstacles, we must persevere, practice patience, and demonstrate love. It is within our own world and routines that everything feels normal; it is when we attempt to integrate into society that the true differences in our lives become apparent. This is why having friends who truly understand is so crucial. We are fortunate to have a few of these friends, and I hold them close to my heart. |
Ava Elise
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