For 25 years I hoped I would wake up one morning to discover God had miracled my ass sober overnight. A heavenly lightening bolt would have struck my large rump in the night, and I would leap out of bed in the morning with a clear head and a light heart. The unnatural attraction and awful compulsion for alcohol would be gone forever. No more hiding, lying, plotting, excuses, broken promises, or disappointed looks on the faces of people I love. No hard work. No discomfort. Just gumdrops and unicorns and sparkles - yay!
It never happened. No lightening bolts ever came...
The word
recovery is a noun. Many of us say
we are in recovery, as it is a state of being or a location. Similar to saying
we are in the swimming pool. In that way I find it to be a bit misleading.
You can fall into a swimming pool, but you can't fall into recovery. You have to work to get there. It can be a real struggle. If it were easy to get to that place called
Recovery the cemeteries wouldn't be so full of people who never made it.
God never miracled my ass sober.
Or maybe He did.
Maybe he directed me to this forum where I could learn how to live a happy sober life. Introducing me to people who could show me how to plan the work and then work the plan.
Maybe miracles come dressed up as mentors recommending I do hard things.
What a comforting thought.
