This is the second of three checkins during 6 months of not drinking. The first was written 2 months in, this is being written 4 months in.
Things that have changed since last checkin
I’m pretty happy just not drinking. Sure, there are times and days that it would be really nice to crack open a cold cider, but I’m actually doing pretty well not drinking. The bees mentioned in the first post have subsided in most cases, and been dealt with in other ways for the other times. It’s nice.
Mother in law found a great NA wine that doesn’t just taste like fruit juice. It’s still not good wine, but it is tolerable for a mild wine snob to have a treat.
Overall, I’m getting more of what I want out of not drinking. While this data is skewed because I knew I wasn’t getting everything I wanted out of my relationship to alcohol before this experiment, it’s still wild to see the move from 15 to 40% in a positive experience, and to even see a “strongly positive” experience show up a few times.
I have this sweetie who also adores sci-fi books. We were on a bike ride at some point, and he asks if I’ve read There is No Antimemetics Division. I reply that I have not, and he offers to give me his copy (he knows I prefer reading paper copies in bed even though I love a good Creative Commons story even more, and self-published copies are also a way to support the author). I say yes. I read it, it’s delightful, I find the ending a bit flat because it’s antithetical to how the rest of the book went, BUT it’s still very good and I’m glad I read it. I stick it somewhere as a book I like enough to want to share with other folks if they spot it.
I suggest Reed also read it. He picks it up and likes it so much he also gets a copy for his brother for Christmas. The new copy is different, a hardback, and the main character’s name seems to have changed. That’s ok, sometimes there are further editions of things, must meant the author is doing well.
Reed comes to me and says “hey do you still have your copy?” and I reply that yet I do unless I stuck it in the LFL. He tells me it’s now worth $500. Apparently the bitcoin bros have found out about it and want copies of the first self-published run.
Now, I have some Feelings on this. Mainly that it’s under Creative Commons and so you can just get the actual words for free, and so wanting this particular printed version is pure status signaling, which is not a thing I think you should be able to be able to come to via money. I’m a goth punk kid from the Midwest where people didn’t even WANT to pretend to be like us, who then moved to bigger cities where having stuck to that background made you “cool” and so there were lots of folks adopting the trappings without the values alignment (history is something you can always build).
But also, I’m doing a bunch of stuff in my neighborhood out of my own pocket and I don’t like asking my neighbors to throw in to help cover the costs, and this book could now cover nearly all of the radios I just got for all of us. And that would be nice, and it’s ridiculous to throw money at something that’s literally freely available.
So I’ve offered to give the copy back to the sweetie who gave it to me. Philosophy is not my favorite place to be trapped.
I’ve been doing these a long time, you can read about the years since 2015 if so desired. These are inspired by Tilde, who has taught me that it can be a Good Thing to remember what the last year has been like. Many of the headers in this post are based on my goals for 2025.
I’ve been tracking general activity via LifeCycle for quite a few years now, but beginning during medical leave this year I also started tracking my time just to not feel like it was slipping away into the ether. Some of that time this year (particularly at home as well as at work and coffee shops) can be further broken down as follows. I did not track activities outside of the house (mostly covered by LifeCycle) nor relaxing time in the house because that way lies madness for me.
You’ll also notice a new chart style this year — I moved my life data out of Google Sheets and into Airtable. It’s given me a bunch of fun insights, including this tidbit.
The phrase for this year was empathy without responsibility. This has really been front and center for me, resulting in more effective local organizing within the context of The World On Fire, dealing with memory and cognition issues effectively, having a more balanced approach to job hunting, and to generally being more grounded in impact rather than anxiety. More in this blog post.
Reed and I had a conversation in October of 2025 about my drinking. I had gotten it to what I thought was a good homeostasis — 1-3 ciders 5x/week or so. Not more than most Europeans drink. But Reed was still interested in if I was getting what I wanted out of it for three reasons, which I reflect on below during my period of not drinking (for however long that is). I have decided to start with 6 months off, at which point we’ll check back in on if we’re getting what we want out of it. I’ve decided to blog about it at the 2, 4, and 6 month markers at least.
You may remember from back in February, Locke and I went to NYC to meet up with my family to spend some time with them. Things have been tender since a falling out a year or three ago, but we’re rebuilding confidence with each other. We have weekly calls again, and have been trying to meet up. I asked my parents if they’d like a wintertime visit, and we arranged just after Thanksgiving. I was nervous, but knew it would be worth the investment.
Not only was time with grandma and grandpa much easier, but we also got a snow storm!
As the storm kicked off, Locke and I made our way to a Rural King (yes, really) to try to get him some snow clothes. Queue my being dressed as “clearly not from here” in a subtly rainbow long wool coat, subtly rainbow jeans, plus black stompy boots waiting patiently while my child has a meltdown on the floor screaming about how “boring” all the boots and clothing there are. The looks. Admittedly we were underslept and jet lagged from the travel, but they don’t know that. We finally picked out some too-big boots that were at least purple and a black jacket. We had to go to the nearby Carhart dealer to get snow bibs in his size. Yes, there’s a Carhart dealer. So now my child, he looks like a farmer. But at least he can go into the snow!
But Northern Indiana, you see, is very flat. So grandpa and I took turns dragging Locke around the yard on a sled so he could get some of the experience. The next door neighbors have a tiinnnny hill in their yard that’s about 3 feet tall and 10 feet long. They invited us over! So Locke got to have a tiny sledding experience.
So that was pretty dang joyful. Then we went inside and sat by the fire and read books, which is The Main Thing My Family Does, so I was glad to share that with Locke as well.
When Reed and I were talking about combining our lives, he made it clear that if we were going to have a kid, he wanted to get married. I wanted to have some complex legal arrangement we could welcome more people into over time as equals if it made sense, but he said that was Too Much and could we please just do this one thing normally. Fine.
We got married back in 2019, and I started off with a family heirloom ring his grandfather had. Which I lost about 4 months later because I was climbing all the time and taking rings on and off (mostly off). Whoops and yikes. Reed bought me a simple gold band from Costco and told me I could lose as many of those as I wanted, within reason.
It’s been about 6 years since then, and I’ve kept track of the same ring the whole time. I think I’m ready for a Big Boy ring again! But this time, I want it to fit my aesthetic more closely. I also wanted to celebrate getting a new job, and this seemed like a nice way to do that.
So Reed starts Doing His Research Thing, and finds that there is indeed an entire market dedicated to simple black or grey rings with blue highlights. Do you want to guess where these bad boys come from?
Not the ring I ended up with, but similar
They’re masculine rings for cop spouses. They’re thin blue line rings. So now I’m very joyfully wearing this thing that is blatantly flagging for absolutely the wrong thing, and I am delighted that if I ever get booked for my activism I might cause a lot of extra confusion. And, it’s spot on for my style!
But then, I didn’t want to give a cop ring website money, so Reed kept doing research and found enough water marks on enough photos like the one above to figure out all of these come from one manufacturer in China. So it also only cost like $40! So now I get to have backups, too.
A couple weeks ago, a neighbor reached out to me to ask me if I’d like to be visible for the city. Our little suburban home resides in a sanctuary city, for which I am endlessly grateful and also wish had significantly more teeth. For Trans Day of Remembrance, the mayor wanted to recognize a local trans person. I’m from the midwest, and have often been seen as the only trans person in a social group, on a team, and sometimes even at a whole organization (until, of course, people see me and start feeling confident enough to come out themselves). So sure, if you are willing to give me the mic for 2 minutes, I’m happy to do The Thing.
Willow speaks about trans visibility to their city’s City Council. Transcript follows in blog post.
Here’s roughly what I said:
Hello, and thank you so much for this step in standing with trans people. I’m honored to have become a San Leandran 5 years ago, to raise my 4 year old here with my spouse, and I look forward to (hopefully) spending the rest of our years here. I am agender and queer, and use they/them pronouns.
The few trans friends I have made in San Leandro are moving away, because standing with us in a safe room is not the same as standing with us in the streets. Standing with us in the streets also means standing with the other scapegoats of this authoritarian regime, our immigrant neighbors. Some immigrants are trans folks who escaped countries unsafe for them only to find this country becoming the same. We believe this unaccountable ICE presence rounding up our immigrant neighbors could come for others next.
When the country doesn’t have our backs, our state must. Disappointingly, Gavin Newsom is throwing us under the bus. When our state doesn’t have our backs, our city must. I’m must report that our city refuses to stand against ICE when they actually show up, leaving our militarized police force only militarized against its own citizens and not against a reckless federal takeover in our neighborhoods.
So what can you do? Look at ways to demilitarize our police force— especially if they are not willing to stand with us to protect our neighbors. Stop storing sensitive data about us via things like Flock cameras that can be hacked or forced to be shared with a reckless federal force rounding up long-term residents, regardless of if they have us citizenship, kids, or are strengthening our community. Consider hiring a sanctuary consultant to figure out how to live up to our sanctuary policy with real action, not just this talk – although the talk does mean something.
I know these are medium-term actions, so here is something you can do tonight, when you get home, to promote solidarity with your trans neighbors: start using your pronouns consistently in public emails and writing. Add them to your email signature lines. Tomorrow, add them to the city website.
A reckless force has come to our city. Soon, they could be knocking on my own family’s door. With this limited official support, I continue to build solidarity with my neighbors. My neighbors have my back as I have theirs. Neighbors, please check on each other. I believe we will get through this and build something more beautiful together. United we will. Thank you.
The back of my vest reads "Less Gender. More Throttle." And "Queers Never Die" around a skull. My button reads "fix shit up." The suit pants, vest, and shirt are bespoke from Crown Tailor, the shoes custom from Al's Attire, the tie I forget. I am also wearing secret purple suspenders from Dashing Tweeds. The fade is from a local barber shop, the dye I did myself.
I worked on this for nearly a week and a half, getting feedback from neighbors who know more about our local politics, about local concerns, and about speech writing. I am forever grateful to them for helping shape this into something that calls for responsibility without setting everything on fire (like the first draft). Thank you also to my sweetie Mark for capturing the photos and neighbor Whitney for capturing the video. The official video, including comments I made later in the session, will soon be available on Video Central.
At the end of each year, I pick a word or phrase to guide the following year. Sometimes it’s really impactful, and other times I barely remember it, and sometimes I even miss the mark. Last year’s was one I was particularly nervous about.
My phrase for 2025 will be something I’ve already begun working on – empathy without responsibility. I was exhausting myself by always wondering if I was focused on the right thing, always doing triage on what might be a better use of my time. Instead, I’m going to focus on what is in front of me and what I have some influence over. I can send money to Translifeline and if a trans kid from Florida shows up on my porch I can house them. But I cannot drop everything in my life to move to Florida to fight the good fight. What I am already doing matters, and I should focus on it.
This is something I had even begun thinking about months before the end of 2024, and realized I needed to pin my year to it. One of the conversations I have had with Reed is about how having a drink helps me give myself permission to disengage from the world. “I am now off duty” I am broadcasting by imbibing. And as someone who is nearly always “on,” that is a useful tool. However, learning to turn down if not off is a skill worth acquiring, and so I set out for the year.
I’m working two approaches: classifying and trusting.
For classifying, I’m determining if something is actually classed into a category that I do have responsibility for. Ends up this is a much smaller set than I initially felt it was. I’m still responsible for a lot — my role in the household, being a parent to my child, an organizer for my neighborhood, the steward of some extra cash to give to others, etc. I am NOT the responsible party for getting an unhoused neighbor on their feet, but I AM responsible for being kind to them and being sure they know about nearby resources and maybe helping them get to those resources. I can also be responsible for making sure that nearby resource knows I have their back, volunteering occasionally, and donating when I have extra. I am not responsible for how Locke does in the classroom, but I am responsible for guiding his behavior when he is at home, and making it clear to the school that I have their back while also having his. Etc.
Screenshot
For trusting, that means I am also trusting the other people in my network and neighborhood to do what they are responsible for. I stay out of their way except for when I have something to offer that might help. I build unlikely friendships with people who have very little practical overlap with me but with whom I am ideologically aligned. I deepen friendships with people similar to me but doing their things further afield so we can align with and learn from each other.
But! I am still looking for tools to deepen this practice. A very dear, very long-time friend of mine is also an exceptional facilitator and is doing a free session on just this thing on Tuesday, November 25th from 9:30a-12 PT. You could come learn with me if you struggle with similar things. It would be great to see your faces there.
Nearly everything I do is for the Collective. I am pre-disposed to it. I was raised to it. And after a lifetime of reflection, I remain committed to it. “They tried to bury us. They didn’t know we were seeds.”
This one I simply feel in my bones. It’s on my right forearm because I am right handed, and this sentiment fuels my interactions with the world. No further pontification.
I’m so grateful to Santa for making it beautiful. She melted some transfer paper in water, splattered me with the water, and then meticulously tattooed each spatter mark.
