well, here it is. 1/2 way to the 1st year of the new life i lead.
the life i always wanted, but didn't know how to get it. wait....more like, the life i thought was boring and i never wanted in a million years. bleh. there's no fun in any of that, live fast and leave a good looking corpse. fuck yeah, man.
hold on, maybe.....the life i didn't think i could have so didn't even try? or perhaps, the life i didn't know how to have, but secretly knew i wanted, so did my best to make it look that way. i could have my cake (booze) and eat (drink) it too.
it's one of those..all of those, i don't know.
sober for 6 months, which has actually felt like years, not gonna lie. the amount of things, good and bad, 6 months has thrown at me. i've been told, after a few years of sobriety, these things no longer haunt the forefront of your mind, the changes. the "sober you" vs "drunk you". i can't wait. that's my reminder- you're still very new at this. don't get cocky,
we're never out of the woods. the ground isn't quite even. your tent is barely built. the rain is only beginning to pass. your sleeping bag won't be wet forever. you'll learn to survive this and like it.
the fact that i keep count.
every day, i start my mornings saying "thank you", and add to my tally. the days i have earned. trying in vain to get back the time i lost. the tally marks i took away, laughing maniacally. crying. not remembering.
182 days.
it's this really awesome, awesome feeling of accomplishment, because well- it is. when i process my thoughts, i realize that deep down...i honestly thought i'd be dead before i ever got here. if you think that's dramatic, be grateful you don't feel what i feel. 182 days of consistent freedom. the things we keep to ourselves. the things that are frightening to hear out loud, the feel of my mouth and my tongue calling me out.
i never wanted to be like this. bring myself to a time where i'd need to count days, congratulate myself on the number 182. no little girl says they want to be a drunk when they grow up.
i didn't know how to get to this point. i didn't want to get to this point. i didn't think i deserved getting to this point.
it's one of those..all of those, i don't know.
they say when you become a mother, you become someone else. selfless. it's your everything.
im pretty sure even something like pregnancy wouldn't have stopped my runaway train. i don't care if you shake your head at me. "no, no. she doesn't know how it is. it's different"
no, no. you don't know how it is. it's different.
alcohol was my baby. i nursed it. protected it. it cried and i ran to it.
it was my everything. i became someone else. it convinced me i was selfless.
the things we keep to ourselves, the things we are frightened to hear out loud.
my mouth, my tongue, calling me out.
it's wrong to admit you don't give a shit. normal people don't think those things. how can you think like that?
years of not being in control of my brain.
children crying a trigger.
someday, this will only be a cautionary tale. i can't wait to wipe sticky little fingers, and hear my new name in a tiny voice. apologize in my head for the things i could have done. every fiber of my being sighing with relief that we'll never need to find out if i was right or not. if it was truly different for me.
i spent my day in the company of people in recovery, who i've gotten to know on a deep level. the demons that haunt us must be friends like we all are.
i spent it with someone who has 25 years of sobriety under their belt, a reminder i can be that too, i will be that, too. the number and the wisdom. that deep level of understanding.
survival skills, a tent, a dry sleeping bag.
i am 100% convinced i would not have achieved this level of sobriety if i had never met any of these people. i've never been more certain.
i didn't know how to actually believe in myself, only say that i did. i needed constant reassurance i wasn't lying like i had for years. these people gave it to me when i couldn't. didn't know how. didn't want to. was too broken and close to not caring.
it's one of those... all of those, i don't know.
eating pizza. playing with my dogs, and trying to pet my moody cat. talking to a few friends who understand the true depths of this accomplishment. house of cards back to back to back, my favorite blanket and pillow, sparkling water with lemon. my phone on silent. a long grandpa nap.
it's one of those..all of those...i know this time.
a perfect way to spend today.
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