"The Haze"

In my post “Sobriety and Christmas,” I wrote about the intense clarity I experienced three weeks into my sobriety.

While that ebbs and flows with levels of connection, natural expansions and contractions that complete my human experience— there’s a constant involved. That constant is a presence with Self.

I’m inspired to write this after a conversation I had yesterday with a human who reminded me so much of a past me, a me that was always “out” around this time of year, spending a lot of time and money drinking, which mostly felt like chasing a high.

This human I spoke to was saying that they spent a lot of their days off from work drinking, not resting, and not taking good care of themselves.

In my personal experience, that was December most years. I was often with people, and the people I was out with…. well, I didn’t truly want to be with them.

I liked them fine, sure, but essentially, for me, they were warm bodies to sit next to. They were called “friends,” and I still think of them as such, but I wasn’t spending time going out with them so I could connect with them. Rather, I was spending time with them so I could connect with me.

I was in what I call “The Haze”

In “the haze,” bricks look like bricks.

You feel your skin slightly warmer than you know it should be, and your mouth has just a little bit less saliva than maybe is appropriate. You look at bricks, and they’re bricks. You look at water, and you can barely see it moving.

In the haze you’re just trudging, one day to the next, knowing that you can slam a wrench into it at any time, but you don’t have the will.

Every day, you dream that in 12 hours when the sun rises, that’ll be the day you try again. That’ll be the day, but then, you somehow forgot you had a bill to pay and had to wash your sheets… and then it’s Thursday, then it’s May, and then a year has passed… and the sheets are dirty again.

You crave connection to yourself, and you know that person is in there… but how else can you feel her, feel him? It seems so easy at 2:00 a.m. …

Martin calls accessing consciousness through drinking going “under the veil.”

Unlike the bliss, clarity, and true connection to Self, Source, God, the Universe, or whatever particular word you may use to describe the divine essence, going “under the veil” is the connection you get that’s almost her, almost… almost… but isn’t.

You have a few drinks and there she is, holding you, and you know the truth in everything. But the next morning, your brain is weathered and dehydrated, and the haze returns.

I often describe it as akin to microwaving a piece of pizza… For a few minutes, it’s hot, delicious, and resembles what it was when it came fresh from the oven. Yet if you let it sit too long, it shrinks, becomes hard, and you’re all of a sudden gnawing on the crust of it wondering how anything that was once delicious now resembles a delicate mix of cardboard and plastic.

That’s my experience of going “under the veil” to access consciousness.

It’s bliss, unity, and then, the connection snaps shut, and you can’t get there again… not until the next time…

That’s why I spent so much time with those “warm bodies.” I was with them, sure, but by the end of our nights, nobody knew what the fuck we were even saying. We just wanted to feel it again, that deep beauty; the knowing that all things are as right as they ever could be…

In the haze, bricks look like bricks.

When you’re connected, aware, and awake, things feel peaceful, even if they’re (from a place of judgment) “crap.”

But in the haze, bricks look like bricks.

As I walk the streets now, I see the vibrations of all the energy. Humans, energy systems that were nothing more than particles and waves built tenements and beautiful suspension bridges. Their energy, morning and night, is co-created again and again as the trains surge forward along the third rail.

Every morning, I open my eyes to the sunlight, seeing the co-creations of millions here and passed on, and I help recreate those structures, decorative cornices, and stoops of cement.

Every morning, a woman may leave in her shiny new boots, a scarf caressing her cherubic face, grateful for the shelter that has housed hundreds… units that survived the centuries, housing ambition, love, desire, anguish, and turmoil.

You see the energy playing out in every corner of every vibrancy, lower Manhattan alive, footsteps, and concrete cracks. The dander of every “body” falls to the street like snow, the cockroaches and their tiny legs wading through it. The dogs don’t bark at one another… what good would it do?

Someone dies in the night and they’re removed by morning, but we feel them there because they were an angel to keep it all moving, keep us feeling, and keep us questioning our humanity, over and over.

All of us are here, as energy… All of us are here, in the city that gives us life.

And, in the haze, all you see is bricks.

You see bricks, and rats that run from the trash to the door to the trash to the door … the middle of the night couldn’t matter less, and the moon … when was the last time you saw her? Maybe it was November…

In the haze, you refresh apps, and your bank account balance. You send the same stale texts to people you hope never call you again.

The haze is density, familiar, predictable, and the “EXIT” sign is red.

Why is it red?

Why isn’t it green?

“I want to exit,” you think, you hope.

Photo by Keagan Henman on Unsplash

This is the time of year when many people start to introspect.

Another 12 months have passed… and, here we are.

Being sober, now, with my eyes open, I can see humans through their “haze.” I can see in their eyes, touch them, feel them… I can see the invisible brain barriers that keep them inside.

Everyone wants to come out so badly, peel the Elmer’s glue from their fingers, and vibrate so beautifully that an orgasm seems dull.

I can help rattle you awake, my friend.

Sit with me for a moment…. Or, sit with you. That’s the only connection you’re missing.

Truly.

Stay beautiful,

Andee

Photo by Andrew Teoh on Unsplash

Sidebar: As I wrote in my post from 12/13:

I’m writing this to be of service but also to let you know that I help people with this thing for a living. I have a ton of knowledge and lived experience, and if you want to know what that looks like, go here, read, and fill out the form:

https://www.getthefuckoff.com/coaching

I’m not trying to create a false sense of urgency but I raise my rates every January 1 because… I get way better at what I do every year. And this year is no exception. So… if anything resonated… it’s just something to keep in mind. ❤️