Violaandme

Through clean living and the works of P.G. Wodehouse, I have come to realize, there are several ways to tell a story from the same point of view. The words you choose to tell a story say as much as the story itself. I could easily delve into the dark recesses of the hells of addiction, the terrifying and abysmal depths I have seen through these very eyes. Instead I recently decided I can call to people’s attention the same frightful imagery of these depths, through the joys of recovery. I can tell the tale of Hades turned Eden, avoiding the downtrodden and blistering life I lived, and tell a tale of hope and happiness.

The scattering of stratus clouds, the sunlight streaming through, warms the ground I walk. Not the chill and the frost that covers the grass and the night which had surrounded me as black as the pit from pole to pole. Rather the melting of the frost into brilliant prisms strewn across the land.


I am on a roll and this ship is never coming to port again, nothing but azure seas and cotton wool clouds for me and my future. No more dark dreary port towns and sunken abashed eyes.


The time a shade past 8 in the morning, the sun smiling down and splashing through my windows. The haze that enveloped the town has already burnt off; another glorious winter day is upon us. Like so many that have preceded it, in this the most wonderful of winters. Could this be the way all winters will turn now that I have been absolved from meth addiction? This last summer was the most glorious on record, the one thing they have in common is I am free from meth. Could this be the way all seasons turn? Or have I just missed the wonders of nature while I toiled away with addiction? Have each and every summer and winter for the past two decades been of such a venerable paradise? Have I just stepped from the shadows in the best of all years?

I remember last winter being nice as well, but I was not in a fit state to appreciate it, coming off of an eight year binge. This year though is the best of all winters in this best of all worlds, and I plan to enjoy each day as it comes. No more hangovers or coming downs to mar the marvels of nature in the beautiful northwest.

I do not know where the joy came from like a wave it enveloped me. I certainly was never made to feel like this from any drug or alcohol. Thirty seven years old and I finally love me for me in spite of me.