42. cold turkey

Today feels like a new beginning. 

Not because it’s a new moon (that’s coming up Wednesday, and it’s a lovely one), nor because it’s a season shift (Imbolc is next week, but we’ve got another nearly 8 weeks until the equinox). 

It’s not a new beginning because of a major life event or any collectively agreed-upon marker. It’s simply a point for me where a few really challenging experiences have come to conclusion and resolution, and I find myself feeling a pause as I orient to the question:

What’s next? 

The water leak in our home turned into nearly three weeks of intense construction and repairs, which in the midst of it, felt interminable, but I’m happy to say all the essential work has been completed, and our house is (mostly) back in order. As we moved furniture back into place, we also cleaned, rearranged, and put forth renewed effort into making our space as beautiful, harmonious and cozy as possible. I’m sitting now in my bed, next to a blooming red rose, and the fifth load of laundry is in the dryer. Order and organization have returned, and I have peace. 

I completed the final year ahead astrology report last night, and sent it over to the client. My desktop, which was littered with countless charts and screenshots, is clean and tidy. Though I have my work planner next to me, and projects in the works, I am sitting this week with what I wanted to accomplish in the month of January professionally, and instead of adding more, I am gently and compassionately examining and removing tasks that simply don’t need to be done. After spending nearly six weeks with a daily sense of pressure that I was behind, I am choosing to just be where I am, and let it be enough. 

School started this week, and I am tenderly and slowly starting to turn my focus and attention to my studies for the semester. I’m taking a Jungian seminar called “Civilization: Shadow to Soul,” an exploration of religious and spiritual symbolism titled “Enchanted Imagination,” and a Spiritual Counseling course focused on ethics, best practices, and establishing a professional offering. I thought I would complete my Master’s this semester, and move on to the PhD, but at the last minute, removed 4 units from my schedule, because I realized I was acting like either a masochist or a ding-dong head in trying to complete 13 credit hours. It now feels like I have some space to tune in more deeply to what I am most interested in studying. 

Though I’ve been an entrepreneur for 14 years, I feel like I’m standing on the threshold of a fresh start. I’ve committed to a beginner’s mind as I review, reevaluate, restructure, revise, refine, and renovate my personal brand, website, and offerings. I’ve carried around a sense of scarcity that there was ‘never enough time’ to do this - to slow down and create more solid foundations for my work - but while time is precious and always feels like a hot commodity, it is ultimately my choice to prioritize what I want to work on. I’m consciously choosing to forgo overwhelm and instead, start where I am, use the tools I have, and do what I can to create a digital home for my coaching, astrology, women’s circles and retreats that genuinely reflects who I am now and what I have to offer the world. 

My mom sent me a note the other day, in response to my 40 day celebration of the Antisocial Social Club, and she reminded me that every day is a birth-day.

Everyday is a chance to begin again.

This may seem trite or cliché, but most simple truths do.

 One of my beloved readers, Iva, wrote in the other day and asked:

“Dear Amelia,

I decided that today I was not going on social media at all. Buutttt I posted something controversial last night and I could not resist! How did you get through the first few days? I’m toying with a two week detox… cold turkey?”

Here's a story about cold turkey.

Journey with me back to the year 2006. It was a simpler time. We were gathered for an annual ritual of feasting, tolerating rarely seen family members, and making it through the meal to the food coma that would follow, but something went terribly wrong. The turkey was taken out of the oven early and set to rest, but when it came time for carving, it was apparent that it was undercooked. So we had a choice: eat cold turkey, or put in back in the oven and cook it some more. Cold turkey seemed dangerous (and gross), so we put it back in the oven, which was also a very bad decision. Instead of a food coma, we all ended up with food poisoning, and a long night was spent taking turns with all the toilets and trash cans in the house. 

Cold turkey seems unappetizing, but even rehashed turkey doesn’t always go as planned, and sometimes it makes you feel like garbage. What would have worked better would have been to simply get a new turkey start over.

Our best bet would have been to begin again.

This is the approach I’ve been taking to the small changes in my life, that over the past year and a half, have resulted in big shifts. 

Instead of thinking about never drinking alcohol again in my life, I chose on October 8, 2023 to release it and explore life alcohol-free. The next day, I woke up and decided it was still a worthy endeavor. I would begin again. This went on for three days, but on October 11 (my birthday) a lovely server at a medieval pub brought me a tiny glass of honey mead with a happy birthday wish. I waffled, struggled with temptation, secretly drank the little mug, then told no one.

I failed at cold turkey. But instead of throwing in the towel, I woke up October 12 and chose to begin again. This time, one day turned into 210 before I chose to drink some red wine to celebrate our housewarming. Alas, the aftermath of that decision felt a lot like Thanksgiving 2006, so on May 13, 2024, I decided to release alcohol and yes, you guessed it - begin again.

It’s now been 283 more days of beginning again, and again, and again: alcohol-free, moving my body in daily workouts, and showing up to the page for a yearlong commitment to writing [42 days down, 323 to go]. 

Wake up. Choose your practice. Begin again.

The thing about cold turkey is that it very rarely works. When people successfully quit something ‘cold turkey,’ it’s often the third, seventh, or twentieth time they decide to choose what matters most, and simply begin again. Like most things, quitting, changing, releasing, transforming behaviors takes practice. 

Making a major declaration about long-term commitments intimidates my inner rebel, and often causes her to act out, because nobody tells me what to do (apparently, not even me). So instead of thinking of any big change as ‘going cold turkey,’ I reassure myself that everything is permissible for me, but not everything is beneficial, and I can change my mind and my actions at any time. 

I ask myself, “what am I practicing today?”

Whether it’s a day without a drink, a 30 minute workout, writing without an agenda, or doing a sixth load of laundry, I let go of the past, choose faith in the future, show up to the moment, and simply begin again.