Tuesday, August 19, 2025
5:35pm
She is unknowable, untouchable, unreachable when manic. She wants to stand atop Everest, smirking down at the plebs beneath her. She relishes the spotlight, leans into her status as SIGMA-ALPHOID.
Bones crunching beneath her boots, her boots are too large for wear, but she struts in them with confidence and pep.
She fancies herself a gem. I mean, everyone is special, right? But some people simply shine brighter than others. Those are usually the ones who meet tragic ends. The sun burned off your wax wings, and they fell into the sea, lost to the abyss forever, living on only in lore and legend. That was the Bel I was while manic. Now, landing back to baseline. I hope it stops at 5.
I am:
- Eating more
- Sleeping more
- Taking naps galore
- Back to the self-recrimination pattern
- Knowing that I’m gifted but not THAT gifted
- More humble
- Ego in check. Oh, it’s in check, all right.
New York in a few short hours. I am stable flying into the world’s most de-stabilizing city. That is a GOOD thing. But the happy post-sobriety mania is gone for now… I miss that frenetic happy chaos. Mania is when I actually love myself. Mania is when I dream beyond my reach, and vow to die with my arms outstretched, grasping for the stars. Mania… it’s beautiful. At least the feelings it produces in your being. Lit on fire, you are fire, you are a mad genius goddess, the world your playground, you are the apex predator, everyone else is prey.
No. Not feeling like that anymore. Instead I feel fat and ugly. I am ashamed at my ego and wonder why I am such a bad friend. I am confused like a lost baby bird crying for its mother.
Who am I, mania-removed?
It’s back to the old insecurity, self-doubt, perfectionism… I don’t like social dancing anymore (though I’m excited to check it out in NY). I’m just bored, without the manic need for attention. IMPURE INTENTIONS OF AN IMPURE MIND. God, grant me wisdom to know myself. Help me take it easy during this time of transition. Give me courage, real courage, to face my demons and slay them. Please clear up my acne and chin hair, it’s getting depressing.
Let me make a gratitude list to get out of this momentary funk:
- Mom: she bought me hella clothes today
- Dad: paid for my NY plane ticket
- Chris: paid for my NY hotel
- Ethan: new friend
- Great clients at country clubs
- Jody: teaches me patience and gratitude
- Job as a fitness instructor: I really do love it
- Allan: despite his shortcomings he still is a really great friend, my ride-or-die
- sobriety: I love how I feel when not fogged up. Colors shine brighter, feelings dig deeper, I feel most human and alive when I’m sober
- Creativity: look. I can still write while stable. My pen is tracing hieroglyphics on the page that strung together form meaning, thoughts, and emotions.
- Dance and movement: you’ll get back your physique, duh. Just keep moving. And you’re a supremely talented mover.
Would you look at that, you’ve written for 30 minutes! WOW! Now, wash your face, do a face mask, and get to some reading. Another 30.
“I can’t. You can. Please help me.” —> cry for God’s help
Were I any of these today?
- Resentful
- Fearful
- Self-pity
- Dishonest
- Angry
…
Made it to the gate! Hardest part is over. I started feeling dysregulated earlier, then went to the gym and did 15 minutes of calisthenics (v-ups, handstands, elbow stands, planks, pushups, splits, chaturangas), and after that and a steam/cold shower/hot tub session I felt good as new!
What kinds of coping skills can I deploy in NYC without a gym or hydrotherapy? — I’ll be having too much damn fun to be depressed so don’t worry, Bel!
But just in case:
- C2 yoga classes
- Yoga in my hotel room
- Walking in the street
- Chillin’ at the park
- Breathing / meditation
- Hotel room = haven / safe space
I have no intention to drink and no desire or craving to either. I am solid but will Zoom into Eaton meetings while I’m in NY.
Notes:
- Keep purse closed at all times
- Charge your portable charger and keep it with you
- Walk in tennis shoes, if you go out dancing bring a change of shoes in your backpack
Okay. Gonna get ready to board the plane now. Girl, you’ve traveled a bunch before. You have been to New York MANY times and didn’t die. I believe you have been to NY sober. You can do this. Just take it easy and PRAY.
I’m excited for this trip! I deserve a vacation, it’s been too long.
…
And… we in NYC baby! Currently in the Uber to the hotel. It’s an overcast Wednesday morning, weather is moderate and humid, and I’m shaking off the drowsiness (slept most of the 5 hr plane ride, save for one bathroom trip in a pitch black stall). I really hope we get early check-in time so I can get settled and take a nap. I have an AA meeting at 10am, then gonna chill in the park to do some reading/writing, then hot yoga 1:45pm, and then the rest of the day is mine until evening. Might move the journal entries to my computer and post on my new blog.
…
Holy shit. I spent the whole day thus far sleeping in the hotel room. Am I depressed? It’s my choice to label it as such, or not. No, I’m not depressed. I’m just coming down from mania so obviously my energy level is gonna be starkly different than before. I think a realistic goal for this trip would be to have one single planned activity a day (i.e. Broadway show, dance event, concert) and wing it for the rest. No stress, just go with the flow. Alright, better get ready for therapy! Ta-ta for now!
…
4:23pm
It’s raining it’s pouring and I probably was snoring during my nap that I just woke up from. Finally ventured out of the Chelsean Hotel and braved the rainy, crowded streets of NYC; posted up at Blank Street Coffee, which is just around the block, and all their matcha latte drinks are ice cream flavor! I ordered a “Daydream” matcha latte, which is vanilla and cinnamon flavored. Delish. The oat milk gives it a creamy kick that makes it really taste like ice cream.
Plan now is to do some reading and writing for 30 minutes, then eat dinner, then find another spot for reading/writing/itinerary planning, then get ready for bachata night!
Goal is to finish the book, “Drop The Rock”. If it weren’t raining I’d be in Madison Square Park right now. Toodles!
…
7:15pm
Took a stroll in the tepid rain and walked to Madison Square Park, which looked so different when it’s all dark and gloomy and rainy, but the landmark circular fountain is still there, along with the wooden benches lining the perimeter of the lawn, where Mikey and I once sat while listening to jazz music. Mikey. I wish I could see him this time around.
Now posted up at Mickey-D’s sipping on a syrupy sweet iced vanilla coffee, gonna read some more Plath before heading back to the hotel. Long night of dancing ahead, so gonna tune into the 4:30pm (PDT) Eaton meeting while doing my makeup. On second thought, it’s almost 7:30pm so I should start walking back. Lots of weird coincidences happening on this trip thus far. Songs I’ve danced to / choreographed to playing on the radio. Storylines of books / movies I’ve watched that mimic my present adventure in NY… interesting. Oop. Just had a drink craving… the thought of pregaming while doing makeup and watching The Summer I Turned Pretty and getting pumped for dancing tonight. Hm… NO. NO NO NO NO NO. You don’t need it. You don’t want it. It was a fleeting thought and not all thoughts were meant to be acted upon. Okay, back to the Chelsean we go!
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