I am trying to get back into writing again. It’s been many years, and honestly, I’m not entirely sure what I want to write about anymore. So much has happened, and somehow, so little has happened.
I am two and a half months sober today. I never thought I’d survive to see this day – let alone the ripe old age of 40! Haha, but here I am. Life has been rough, a bit of a struggle, but I’ve made it through so far, and I am determined to keep on going.
It’s not too bad being sober, enjoyable even. Well, I say that today, but who knows what tomorrow will bring. Sobriety is an emotional roller coaster. You put down the booze and suddenly all the emotions you’ve been avoiding come crashing in at once. One minute I am smiling and laughing, and the next I’m misinterpreting someone’s look and bawling my eyes out. It’s very intense, but it’s real, and that’s something I haven’t felt in a long time. Real feelings and emotions. It’s a bit scary, to be honest.
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking – something I never did too much of before because I was always drunk or thinking about getting drunk. Alcohol consumed every part of my life. It controlled me completely. It’s kind of embarrassing looking back, just how much control it had on me.
Everything I did revolved around alcohol: Getting it, making sure I had enough of it and even then that was never enough, recovering from it (which was hardly ever as I remained basically in a permanent drunk state towards the end there), planning my next drink and working out who I could steal from for my next drink. It was a very exhausting way to live. Nothing else mattered, though. If anyone got in my way, there’d be hell to pay.
I stopped caring about everything that had once meant something to me; my family, my looks, what people thought, my education, my mental health, friendships, opportunities. If it didn’t involve alcohol, I didn’t care. My parents have stuck by me through thick and thin, and sometimes I really don’t know why. The things that I have done to them have truly been awful. I’ve stolen from them, trashed their house, abused them, and yet they have continued to love and support me unconditionally. I’m so lucky to have them.
My sisters – I have four, chose to love me from afar at times and I have to say I really don’t blame them. After so many failed rehabs and numerous relapses, there’s only so many times someone can watch you fall before they must protect their own hearts. I get that now. I used to feel abandoned, and I was angry at them for a long time without much reflecting on my own poor behaviours.
Talk about an addict and victim mentality, right? Now I understand that they were doing what they needed to do, for themselves (and for me).
All I can do now is keep getting up, showing up and believing in myself – with courage, determination and a newfound sense of hope. Some days are a struggle, but one chaotically sober day at a time, I’ll get there.
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