Today I "celebrate" five months of sobriety— 154 days, 8 hours and some number of minutes & seconds depending on how long I take to wirite this post.
To celebrate means "to mark (a significant or happy day or event), typically with a social gathering," and also "to do something enjoyable to mark such an occasion: she celebrated with a glass of champagne."
Obviously, the champagne is out <smile>. And considering how I did so love a lighter-than-air, tall, thin, stellar glass or two— or more likely bottle or three— of tiny bubbles, tasting of apples & toast, I'm surprised & encouraged that I neither miss nor want it. I remember fondly— even a bit longingly— but that's all. The ONLY desire for alcohol I have now is nostalgia— and that's NOT enough to "make" me take a drink.
I never expected that. I thought I'd live the rest of my life wrestling myself back and away from wanting a glass of wine. It's not like that at all. My commitment to my sobriety matched with or eminating from the Grace of GOD is all she wrote. Never say never and... Today I say, "Never again."
It's the "other stuff" that's driving me crazy.
I'll not die of thirst today, but tomorrow or a few tomorrows from now... Highly likely.
I know there's more water in the world. The waters of life are flowing all around me. I just don't know if there's any more for me.
Given who I've been and how I have behaved... The irresponsibilities, carelessness, arrogances & ignorances I've piled one on top of the other make Everest seem an ant hill... The belligerent bastard I was and still have in full-dress uniform within me... All of that and more.
When I do the math I'm screwed. No exit. No way out, up and over the pile of shit I've errected. The quantity & quality of my wrongs is overwhelming to me. The possibility of making ammends highly unlikely. And forgiveness...? Forget it.
This, too, shall pass. That would be good.
Mama didn't say there'd be days like this— especially not days that were made to celebrate something as miraculous as five months of sobriety, but instead are wasted down in the dumps.
But then mama didn't make me an alcoholic either. I did that myself. And dealing with the negative tear my ego's on right now is something else I did and am doing myself— small self, admittedly.
The rollercoaster of recovery. <smile>
Please, let me know what you think & feel in the Comments box...
I appreciate you!