I don't intend on getting poetic and fluffy today.
But, there's always this incredible deception between my hands and intentions – so there's still a good chance this post will go rogue, like a drunken mouse in a brand new maze.
Stay tuned, and we'll see.
I want to celebrate a small success, today.
No, a huge success.
Today will mark 2 weeks sober, armed with nothing but logic and understanding, and sweet, beautiful clarity for a change.
It's so much easier to see things as they are, once you're no longer seeing double.
Some Things I've Learned:
- Waking up knowing my name and where I am is a pretty good start to the day
- 3 Litres of wine a day is not recommended by the Surgeon General
- Pomegranate juice is expensive, but cheaper than regret and self-loathing
- Anticipation is more of a drug than actual drugs
- Time moves more quickly when your senses aren't completely numbed
- Blacking out every evening is probably the least attractive thing ever
- Leaving the house (and being able to drive myself) to places other than the liquor store is a pretty sweet perk of being a grown man. Who knew?
- My brain has some pretty cool thoughts when it isn't drowning in wine and dopamine
- Being able to remember those cool thoughts are akin to having them twice
- Annie Grace deserves Sainthood
Now, that's just the short list.
It's the best I can do sober on a Saturday morning at 5am – which is so much better than still being drunk at this hour almost every other Saturday morning for the last two decades.
Okay, I'll be honest.
EVERY morning for the last two decades.
Today is a check-point for me. As humans we love landmarks and flags; markers to tell us how far we've come and how much further we have to go. We are plotters who find comfort in seeing the big picture.
We love countdowns and diaries.
We are always looking forward and looking back; it's the human condition that once we know where we are, we immediately want to see where we're headed and be able to look back to where we've come from, too.
That's the struggle: allowing where we are right now, to be enough.
But it's in these small (huge) victories that we arrive at along the way which make the rest of the journey seem manageable and exciting.
If I can do 14 days, I can do 400. And if I can do 400 days, I can do 40 years.
I think when we relate where we are right now, to where we think we need to be (1 year sober, 10 years, 40...) that we not only get intimidated and overwhelmed, but we miss the opportunity to celebrate our win today. It also diminishes the success we should be celebrating right now.
Because, let's be honest: there is no finish line in this marathon.
There is no race. There is only right now.
And right now, this needs to be enough.
It goes without saying that we need goals – having something to work towards and look forward to is what gives us momentum. But what fuels our drive to get there?
Feeling good right now.
I can't possibly emphasize that enough.
Because, I know when I feel like a pile of shit within and without, I could care less to take any steps towards anything other than my bed. You can't find strength in looking at yesterday's failures, or last years, or even tomorrow's intimidating uncertainty.
You can only draw strength from right now.
It is quite literally the only chance you have to make a decision. You can't re-decide what you chose yesterday, or plan how you'll choose tomorrow.
It's only in this magical, immeasurable and limitless "now" that we have any power at all.
We can't change our past choices, but we can choose better right now.
We can't predict our future choices, but we can choose better right now, so our future choices will be easier.
We can celebrate today, because it's our first day sober or our fifth year dry. Both will have the same effect: feeling good right now.
And if you're feeling good right now – why would you want to dilute it with a drink or twelve? I'm (re)discovering that being mindful is the only drug I need.
Well, so much for not getting fluffy and poetic.
But I got excited.
Today, right now, is enough.
I'll worry about tomorrow when it gets here.
Sober, alcohol free recovery blogger.
Photographer. Writer. Ex-Blackout Artist.
Share the love: