Some days, I am just grateful I made it through. I can experience a range of emotions throughout the day – any one of which could be used as an excuse to drink – and yet somehow I choose not to.
It’s a miracle, really.
In early recovery, people would tell me that I was a miracle. I never believed them. I thought it sounded too grandiose a concept to ever apply to someone like me. I would think, “I didn’t do anything spectacular. I’m not even sure I deserve to be alive right now. I’m just…ordinary.”
Today, I recognize the miracle of recovery. I understand what others mean when they say recovery from drugs and/or alcohol is miraculous. I am living with an illness that will never give up until I am dead, and yet here I am…still living.
I have a brain that knows alcohol will kill me, yet still wants it so badly I swear I can taste it at times – and It makes me angry. I immediately tell myself I must be doing something wrong – I must be failing. But when I stop to think about it, I realize what an extraordinary thing it is that I can crave something so badly, yet choose the healthier path.
I’m exhausted today. It started out OK. It got better at work when I was recognized for a job well done (I still get embarrassed by positive feedback because I struggle to believe that I deserve even the smallest of accolades), and then the evening didn’t go as planned. I found myself feeling angry, disappointed, heartbroken… 😞
But I’m still sober. THAT’S the miracle.
When I put down the substance in 2014, when I finally allowed myself time to heal, the ability to choose was returned to me.
I choose to believe in miracles – and today, I finally feel like I could actually be one of them. 💜
Goodnight friends. Thanks for allowing me to share my journey with you.