I've always seen myself doing something big with my life.
That includes gaining some sort of contentment within my environment and surroundings. New York used to be a big one, and then it changed to Spain at a young age, according to my old journals. I had some big dreams back then. I still do, but things are just...different now.
Not in a bad way. Although through the years, I remained in California, glorifying the San Francisco Bay Area. I earned the opportunity to travel all around the world, overtaking the future of gaming and technology.
But after that flawless life hit a pause, the button has been broken since.
Instead of moving out of my safe zone, I ran with fear whenever I wanted to break the 4th wall and run away from this place for good.
Fast-forward to my life now I'm happily married, and moving to England as soon as this visa ships into my hand. Any normal person would ask themselves questions to make sure they're doing the right thing. But until then, nothing is going to seem real at all.
I've been needing a change as I've completely overgrown where I've lived for years. When I was working with big tech companies, I've always kind of believed in myself to be that traveling working girl, until things took a turn.
But, for the moment, who even cares anymore. I was such a workaholic. Still am, I guess. An overachiever for sure.
I remember when I was drinking, I went to Japan for my birthday and after three weeks flew back to San Francisco. Not only that, but I remember getting off the plane deathly exhausted, and I didn't even have enough time to go home. I had to stay at the airport to fly to Florida for the next six days training a team of VR staff.
Moving on from the horror stories, I've learned the secret ingredient to growth is a foundation. You have to have a mental home base to fall back onto, trust me. Since I stopped drinking alcohol for over a year now, my thoughts have been more clear, rewarded by a greater sacrifice.
I leveled up.
During the pandemic, I would take lsd just about every weekend by myself to shift around thoughts from wanting alcohol. Lots of conversations, reading, writing, tears, video games, OH HEY.
I mean, I was drinking during:
Hanging With Friends
It literally took over my life.
Fake liquid courage along with everything else was a lot. I felt gross. To cut cold turkey, I wouldn't recommend that to anyone, but I did that for me. That was my choice. A very strong mind is required, where the mirror is damn near planted right against yours. The raw questions were real. I've also been layering up all my life with armor. I knew what I was getting myself into, but not to that extent. I chose to hide away and dive into my brain so deep with information new and old: black history, shit about England because I was moving there, my ancestry, my Mother's death, and who the fuck I was for the first time because I had no clue anymore.
I was worried if I was still funny because I pride myself on making people laugh.
Like, what percentage of alcohol was the real me?
I met and spoke with a professional stand-up comedian who's been in the game for over 10 years. He said there are two types of comedians:
Living Room Funny
Stage Presence Funny
That was the first time it really made sense to me when he broke down the two spectrums. For someone whose living room is funny, they have the ability to make people laugh, always. There's a handful of people sitting around, and your comedic timing is thriving. Not only that, but you can animorph yourself right onto that stage and keep it going. Now, as for stage presence funny, that is another ball game.
That one comedian dude: "If you go on stage, and you're not living room funny. In no way is that going to transition to the audience. That's when it becomes difficult. But if you're living room funny, you'll be stage presence funny too, and that's where the fun begins."
He has a point.
At the time, it was a lot to handle.
Back onto the anxiety part, given you're just sitting with your thoughts all fucking day like I was. Four walls just looking at you while pacing back and forth like the fucking Joker. I prefer to deal with a lot of emotional rollercoaster nighttime rides completely alone, because there's no way I could put someone through that level of manic. I can barely stand myself during it. Real talk.
Sure enough, when you're drinking you believe everyone is having a great time, and you're so amazing. But most of the time, that just isn't the case. Now look, your warm temperature beer is now flat as fuck.
I was also going through school for creative writing at Full Sail to keep my mind occupied. My husband, Stuart, had to fly back to England at the time because of the lame changes to the US immigration law. Closing the borders off to UK Citizens, we knew as a married couple that this was going to be our biggest challenge. Almost nine months apart so far. Since we've made the commitment of life in 2019 was getting through this visa with the possibility of not seeing each other in between.
That would test anyone's relationship.
So we wait.
The lack of energy.
The fucking daydreams...
Having been adopted from a young age and living through my toxic-ass life now morphed into adult trauma, I realized during my early 20's I was partying a lot. Alcohol was my clutch, no doubt, and being fucked up turned into a stalker-ish necessity real quick. The hard drugs weren't too far behind, either. All parties attended inside crack houses and public bathrooms overlooking the water with have a soft spot in my heart. And no, I wasn't doing crack in case you're not from the Bay Area lol.
Also, the blacking out on the beach at some point during the Full Moon Party in Koh Phangan, Thailand in 2010.
Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge nerd that enjoys playing video games and going to tech conventions on my days off. But during that time, alcohol was used to mask everything, especially my fear.
I felt I couldn't move anywhere alone unless the pressure of bringing one of my friends along came to justice. How lame is that? If they couldn't go, I wouldn't go. It was an easy decision. But not a brave one. I guess looking back, it probably was for the best because mentally I knew I wasn't in a good place.
On a good note, finding true love is rare, and I feel very lucky, living in this fairy tale of long-distance marriage and not seeing my husband for nine months and counting so far. But, you know, alas life.
At the same time, I'm strong-minded; I'm here, brittle body though, but awake.
The shift of saying goodbye and knowing I'm not coming back to a country I've known all my life.
My birthday passed on September 22nd. So that was the start of the process.
We visioned I would've had my visa in hand as a gift from life, but as I look at the time, that isn't the case. We had to take a pause and decide to get a place that would be accepted at the home office in England. Good thing, we recently got approved for a place near the Marina boat docks up North. I'll have a creative space, it will be really nice. A year lease to save, travel, breathe...
The only time my husband shared a birthday with me is when we met for the first time in Japan for like 15 minutes in the smoke section. Sometimes I have to over manifest just to make up for the anxiety I don't drink myself through anymore with the separation we are going through. Every angle of pressure and time I feel through the blood in my veins, shifting around cold currents and inverted goosebumps.
It's like Sonic The Hedgehog falling his way down into the sunken place with nowhere to go.
Now you see where my spastic thinking is. All over the place. I'm so fucking ready to move.
Just like a video game where you're just navigating through the story attempting all these side quests, and it's like, "UM. AM I GOING TO SURVIVE?" I mean, I haven't died yet.
So maybe that's saying something for once.
I commend anyone going through addiction. Plus the others waiting on a visa and having to go through the process of testing time until getting approved. I fucking feel you. On that note, 90 Day Fiancé ain't shit. LMAO.
Now, until then...we wait.