Today. Friday. A day off for me. New moon. 3 years to the date marking my sobriety anniversary.
I sit in the flexible office/yoga/art room. It’s the space within our home that is mine alone.
I sit in butterfly pose on my meditation cushion. I play a yogic playlist that I used to teach with and hadn’t heard in at least 4 years. It is familiar yet new at the same time.
The lovely backdrop of construction noise and banging takes place outside my door and below me on the floor.
In front of me is a pile of stuff that will be used “sometime soon.” Sometime soon started last June when our construction project began.
My husband pops by on a quick work break to say hello on the way to the bathroom. He looks in my office/yoga/art room and tells me the scene is “so you.”
Yes. This is me. Right now in this moment in time. Living life on life’s terms. Construction, piles of things, and me trying in the midst of it all to stay centered and be me.
3 years ago was a different story. I went to bed at 4 a.m. after being in the emergency room for not being able to come off a panic attack. I hyperventilated for hours. I had to appear in court in the morning for an arrest, so I must have slept 2 hours at most. As I lay in the ER hallway (because naturally there is no space on a random February Monday evening), I couldn’t believe the low I had gotten myself into.
I didn’t know where to go, who to reach out to, or what the next step was.
It was then I surrendered. In the hall of Yale New Haven’s Emergency Department. I took the first step that AA’s 12 Steps teaches and surrendered. I lost control. I had no control to start with. Alcohol had control over me. I accepted that.
Every day when I sat down to drink the first perfectly chilled glass of chardonnay, I would turn on my soap opera. Commercials were still part of the app I watched it on at the time, and there was a recurring ad for a program called Aware Recovery. Every day I would think that I should probably call them. There was no time better than the moment to look into this. I put in a request for information on my smartphone right there in the hall in the middle of the night.
Aware Recovery called me back the next morning while I was in court waiting to be seen. I remember telling the person on the phone where I was. I was expecting shock and disgust, but what the person told me is that they’d been in my exact position and they could help. I cried with relief when hearing that. Relief for not being judged. Relief for knowing there is help and knowing that someone in my position was able to come back from something like this.
The next few days and weeks were a blur. Aware Recovery stepped up. At the time, I didn’t know I would need to rely on a community to help me get through recovery or who, if anyone I had already known, would be a part of what I didn’t even know I needed—but it works out if you surrender. It is done one step at a time. Metaphorically. Literally. Step one was to surrender. The moment I did that for real, really real—the rest started to fall into place. You have to want it and to surrender. It’s the easiest/hardest part.
One still needs to work. The community can’t do it for you.
I can write and list all the lessons I learned, thank all the people who played a part—either willingly or unknowingly—to help, talk about the metaphors, the work, the yoga, my own journey—but I’ve done that many times.
Today I’m just thankful for where I am and can attest to anyone who isn’t sure they should, can, or want to quit drinking—that they can really do it. Life is better without it. If you think you need it, it helps you, or it tastes good—some might be true, but there are healthier ways, without the risk of becoming addicted, to get the benefits you seek.
I’m still me, only better.
This was me before—this is me now. I’m just not inebriated, angry, silly, prone to being triggered, or prone to risky behavior—drunk texting, flirting, driving…. It’s just me without the risks, calories, costs, and cravings.
I love to knit. Particularly to knit big, chunky, cozy blankets.
I love plants and gardening.
I love yoga and meditation.
I love reading, particularly spiritual books.
I love living by the water and all things nautical.
I love painting, drawing, and creating art.
Life on life’s terms. It’s an AA term I love. It’s not just people in recovery this applies to. It’s an awesome way to accept life.
I’ve been living through a construction project. My house has been noisy and dusty, and at times I felt like I have been losing my mind. The past 3 years taught me many lessons like this in different ways.
This is life. We can either accept it and feel free or fight it and feel like a prisoner on someone else’s terms. Life isn’t going to stop being hard because you stop drinking. But you will be able to accept life as it shows up without pain.
This is my life and I accept it.
Everyone’s life is different, full of what they love and cherish, and contains stuff, people, and circumstances that they really wish weren’t there.
Who ever said life would be anything other than good, bad, and everything in between?
This is my life. You have yours, and maybe your story—or someone you love’s story—involves addictive substances too. There is a community of us who have recovered from addiction and want to help anyone who wants help in the ways they know how to.
This is one way I know how—reaching out, sharing, sending love, and being available.
Namaste.
Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!
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