Going into my friends room to collect information about signaling, I realized that no matter what the signals were, I felt very comfortable in each space. Perhaps it was because of my proximity to my roommates, how well I understood each of them as individuals, that their spaces radiated the same energy I had come to know and love them for emitting. But I had the same feeling of comfort going into the room of Mimi, someone who was often rude to me and not someone I would consider a friend.

 

The mystery of their ego wrapped me up in their space, their signals nearly overwhelmed my senses. 

In other’s spaces I departed from reading my own signals and instead focused on other’s, and this reprieve from self-analysis was what allowed me to feel comfortable– being somewhere that was not inside of myself. Perhaps the reason I felt so comfortable in my room was because I convinced myself that it was rid of me, too, after all of my purging. 

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By purging and sobering I was trying to eliminate all aspects of my identity under the guise of non-attachment because I was not pleased with who I was. This anxiety about who I was and whether or not I was enough compelled me to self-medicate. For a brief time, this self-medication was effective, but then I became dependent on the substance to the effect of the cycle strengthening and intensifying. No longer was I “better” when I was high, high was now my baseline, so my desire to be away from myself became even more prominent when I was high. 

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My practice of trying to let my identity go altogether was unsuccessful because I did not want any negative emotions to exist, and by becoming frustrated that they did, there was even more negative emotion. 

I realize now that practicing non-attachment successfully is about letting go of your judgments about the thoughts and feelings that will inevitably arise. Whether it is the ego, fear, or even happiness, to have a judgment about their presence will only extrapolate them. 

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Meditation has been the biggest influence on my sobriety, the opportunity to sit, to let feelings arise, to greet them, to let them go. 

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When I close my eyes and lean the weight of my body over the clay for what feels like the thousandth time, I think of the best centering advice a teacher has ever told me: “Imagine that you are pushing a refrigerator with each hand, it takes much more pressure than you think.” Imagining all of the muscles in my back, chest, and arms working together, I slowly but surely move the clay into a balanced and symmetrical shape. When I start to raise the walls, I notice one side is a little thicker, a little taller, maybe my centering wasn't as good as I thought it was or there's a bubble somewhere in my clay. For a moment I feel frustrated that my pot is wonky yet again, proud with how far I have still come, and peace with my recognition of these emotions. But, I let the feelings all go and start again.