for most of my life i thought i had a pretty good handle on my identity. i knew who i was - i was a dependable daughter/sister/wife, a thoughtful friend, a curious intellectual, a successful professional, and i knew the adjectives which most accurately described me - decent, kind, honest, hard working. my upbringing was messy and chaotic, but it ultimately made sense and i accepted it. i converted my stubborn will into a course of unlikely achievement and prided myself on overcoming those challenges while being the most authentic, virtuous version of myself possible.
and of course, i was completely delusional. yes, to some degree some of those things may have not been outright lies, but then there was also the fact that i was constantly high, drunk, erratic, lying, cheating, desperate, volatile. my genius lay in my ability to consistently slide thru under the radar. until i didn't.
with each day sober, my view of what's behind me grows longer and sharper. it catches my breath. i shudder. i shrug. i have no idea how to fit these things into my idea of who i am. the phrase 'alcoholic divorced felon' hangs heavily at the front of my mind on some mornings, and, on nites like tonite, the thought creeps in from the cold that a drink might make me more normal, give me the cover to think myself whatever i'd like to believe. i desperately want to start over, to feel confidently ok with it all, to not feel that it's ruined me. i know rationally that i cannot undo or live in the past, but unfortunately, my dominant thought isn't always rational. i've managed about 20 days sober so far this time, i'm alternately feeling very strong and very hopeless, and i'm trying hard to believe that the bleakness i see now is just as much a mirage as the delusional belief that things were just dandy back then.