Ghosts of Night-Shifts Past
Ghosts.
After all this time, after all these years, I still have Ghosts in my closet. And here’s the thing: I’m not so much afraid of the dark. I’m afraid of the morning time, in the light, when I open that closet, and I see them. The Ghosts.
The Ghosts of Night-Shifts Past.
I haven’t bought new clothes since before I quit my job in the service industry, and for some reason, I haven’t been able to bring myself to get rid of the old uniforms. The old T-shirts that I used to wear to the job. The old server aprons. I still have the low-cut blouses I bought specifically to bartend in. I still have the hats. The hair ties. The same brand of makeup. I still have the same pants… the skinny jeans when I needed the tips.
I spent this past year getting sober, and not much else. And that’s perfectly fine; normal, even. It’s normal to realize that you need to stop your life for an extended period of time and to focus solely on “just not drinking today.” And so I did that, for many days. It was suggested to me early on that I should “make sobriety my full-time job.” And so I did. Quite literally.
For too long I’ve been afraid to admit that I have lived to work, and not worked to live. With every role that I step into, every position I fill… it consumes me slowly and gradually, just like the toxic liquid I used to sip slow through a straw. I think I spent too many years searching for a box to fit into, a list to check off, and trying to mold myself so that I would fit perfectly into whatever job would give me a chance. (And pay me never quite enough.) I jumped in with an enthusiastic yes every single time, without ever really establishing who I was and why was I here.
Who am I? And why am I here?
Nothing like two months of unemployment to shake yourself awake.
Without a “job” to be placed in, without a uniform to wear… all I’m left with is… me. And the Ghosts.
These Ghosts of situations, jobs, people, places, and things. These Ghosts that always seemed to tell someone else’s story. Never mine.
Why have I still hung onto my old work clothes, from the days at the bar? Why do I still have the gifts from family and friends that labeled me as a “drinker”, that made drinking my whole personality? The T-shirts that say: “She who pours the booze makes the rules.” “Day Drinking.” And my personal favorite: “I Need a HUG(e margarita).
These Ghosts in my closet have held me back. I think I have been quite honestly a little afraid to finally part with them, fearing the sobering reality that I will never need to wear them again. Knowing deep in my soul that… drinking WAS my entire personality at one time. It made me easy to shop for. It literally paid my bills. It made me feel like I had a place to fit into. I can’t believe I didn’t know just how much I fit in with the sober world. It’s still mind blowing to me to finally feel so seen.
I could have just been me the entire time. I didn’t need those T-shirts. I didn’t need to hide behind the glass. I never needed some big corporation to get lost in. I am not a cog in the wheel. Silly girl, you are worth so much more than what you have been giving yourself. You are the whole damn vehicle.
And still, I wake up in the morning, and in the light: I see them. These Ghosts. They are still here. These Ghosts are still here, and I have over-served them. I must cut them off. It’s time. Leave quietly and peacefully, Ghosts. I will not be serving you any More.
It’s time to go shopping for some new clothes. Cheers to a new year.
Love, Miki, a former bartender
