5 Years Free

Nothing matters and everything is precious.

Over in the SELF MADE community, we’ve exploring different approaches to changing our thoughts. Currently we’re focusing on all things FIERCE self-compassion, which is self-compassion turned outward. What is it? How do we do it? How is this different from what Kristen Neff refers to as a more inward turning, “tender” self-compassion?

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Photo by Todd Quackenbush on Unsplash

In the winter of 2018, I was a little over a year sober, four months out of an eight year relationship, and had just graduated with an MFA in Creative Writing after steeping myself in all things words and literature for almost three years. There I was: freshly minted degree in hand, living in a new home with dear friends, a finished—if clunky—first draft of a novel sitting atop my desk, and a foot pressed firmly on the proverbial gas pedal. Quitting drinking had turned the dial up on everything, and I was itching for more more more, wanting things to go faster, ready for my life to hurry up and start. I had a fellowship lined up for the following fall and in the meantime thought my fancy new degree would give me access to some rad job writing or working in publishing, and I’d spend all my downtime refining that aforementioned novel, eventually passing it along to my thesis advisors who would be sure to place it in the hands of an enthusiastic agent.

What actually happened: I couldn’t find a job for shit. Living in San Francisco, I knew how to turn up the hustle, and in January 2019 I found myself working four shifts/week at a friend’s jewelry shop, selling to the here-and-there customer who could afford the wares, but mostly, if I’m honest, sitting in the workroom cleaning jewelry, tumbling sterling silver, and staring at the wall. It was steady, consistent work, and I’m not too proud for any kind of gig. And, it’s also true that there was a lack of congruency between how I felt inside and what was happening out in my reality, namely, that despite my great and grand visions for literary stardom and the belief that quitting drinking would solve all my problems, what actually had to happen is that I had to be patient. I had to let it take as long as it took for my external circumstances to reflect the inner shifts I was experiencing out into the world. I had to disabuse myself of so many things, particularly, the notion that just because I wanted something didn’t mean that I got it. I had to work for it. There was still so much work to do, including, perhaps most vitally, wrapping my head around that fact that all this “work” had very little to do with productivity.

When I look back from where I stand today—one days shy of my five-year soberversary—and take in the full arc of change, I can say that my life has changed entirely. But if I were to zoom in to any singular point on that timeline, do you know what I’d see? A whole lot of jewelry cleaning, staring at the wall moments. I’d see me going through the motions with routines and practices that more often that not felt boring, sloggy and utterly unglamorous. I’d see so so so many quiet nights alone. More than anything else, I’d see discomfort, and all the associated squirming as I learned to sit inside of it.

I’ve written about previous anniversaries here, here and here. As I reread, I catch myself nodding my head: yes, yes, yes. It all rings true, still, and I’m grateful for the record keeping, the ability to touch back in to specific moments and presence myself to the significance of the work. Life is a miracle, and this practice is a way that I get to embed myself every day deeper and deeper into that miracle, to be with life in all her life-y-ness, neither turning and fleeing, nor anesthetizing. “Life is a good partner,” as Margaret Wheatley says in “Leadership and the New Science,” and five years in, I can say (and more importantly, believe) that I trust in this goodness. No matter what life presents—be it beauty, pain, joy, terror, grief, heartache—I can be with it. I know now how to move with my life, to step into the river and give over rather that forever clinging to its banks.

Today, as I sit here and squirm in the pre-dawn hours, staring at a blinking cursor and feeling more than a little confused by the fact that five years feels so much quieter than I expected, describing “what I’ve learned” feels more ineffable than ever. How do I describe what it’s like to fundamentally shift one’s core beliefs, not only about oneself, but about the world?

🥳

All week I’ve been getting up at 4:30am to write this damn post and griping to the closest people to me about how I feel like I’m supposed to say something about five years and how annoyed with myself I am that I don’t know what the fuck to say and then my beloved Tai (right on time -thank you!) dropped the following quote in our SELF MADE community Slack last night and click! - just like that, the missing puzzle piece popped into place:

"We were not flawless, and we weren't trying to be. We were trying to avoid living by habit and inattentiveness."

Sonya Lea in "Wondering Who You Are"

What is required to create a life that feels good more often that not is to relinquish control, to practice receiving our lives rather than micromanaging our lives. It is about embracing the messiness of our humanity rather than pursuing perfectionism, that fool’s errand, that glitzy mirage that will be forever out of reach. It is about recognizing that those stare-at-the-wall jewelry cleaning hours are a vital part of the process, not moments to be rushed through. It is about dismantling the internalized capitalism that would have us believe that the only way for our healing to be worthwhile is to whittle down the vast mystery of a messy human life into some palatable shape that we can point to as evidence of our “success,” or to post about on social fucking media.

I think I’ve been shying away from this post because what I want to say is maybe not the most inspirational thing ever, which is that if you choose this path—if you choose to face your life and recover yourself—you will be stepping into a day-to-day that is boring, messy, uncomfortable, annoying and banal much of the time.

Sign! Me! Up!

So much of the work for me now, five years in, is about taking opposite action when my old patterning churns (and yes, it still churns, all the damn time). It is about slowing down and laying on the floor, feeling body on the ground, breath in lungs, right at the moment when everything in me is asking me to hurry up and do. It is tenderness toward myself when I make mistakes: it is hand on heart, a quiet, “oh, Dani,” genuine kindness and care rather than hating myself for being human. It is getting EXCITED when messes show up, for I now view messes as portals to possibility rather than anything that would be controlled or managed (as if). It is about taking exquisite care of myself, even when it’s so boring, even though it’s neverending, because I know that when I care for myself I am able to care for my people and stay engaged in the world. It is speaking up in instances where I might have kept my mouth shut—whether that’s in a relationship, or when I’m treated or see someone treated a certain kind of way. It’s relentlessly pulling myself out of future tripping, out of rumination, and right here, into the present moment, sticking my nose into every available flower and letting the Tater take his time sniffing every. single. bush on a walk and spending as much time as possible with friends who make me laugh, my favorite thing in the whole world.

Sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly self-absorbed—when I’m assigning lots of significance to the work, when I sense my vision has narrowed, when I suspect I’m missing out on all the information available at any given moment—I go look at images of deep space. I am reminded that nothing matters and everything is precious, and inside of that mindfuck I connect to my own limitlessness. And then I think, damn, I spent all those years chasing whatever I could get my hands on that might have me “take the edge off,” only to find it right here. It was always right here.

So I’ll keep being curious about what else is right here. I’ll keep deepening into community and friendship. I’ll throw myself into black holes, sniff out quantum leaps. As we say—I’ll keep showing up.

What a glorious joy to get to do so with all of you.

🥳

I’ve been writing here since April 2020 and today I want to thank you for your eyes on my words; for your care and kindness; for every comment, every email. This space is one of my greatest delights and I’m sincerely grateful.

In love,

Dani

🤓

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4 years free!

One thousand days free!

3 years free!

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SELF MADE is a rebellious recovery community that empowers you to liberate yourself from societal programming and boldly step into a life of your design. Posts are written by me, Dani Cirignano, founder, writer, coach, and recovery advocate based in San Francisco, CA. 

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