I weirdly find comfort in it. I don’t do those things anymore. I picked up and moved on. I made amends where I could. I worked on today. I work on today. I forgave myself. It feels like watching a storm outside and I’m curled up by the fire with a cat and cocoa and a good book.
The things I did happened. The things that were done to me when I drank happened. (That’s a real phenomena also) When I start to lose touch with being in today, I remember them differently. Would I like to go into the storm, or stay inside with the cat and the cocoa? The answer is obvious to me. So I stay in today, going forward, grateful I chose to come in from the storm, dry off, heal, and welcome others who come in.