A year
A year
Last month, I went ziplining for the first time. It rocks. Of course, when it was over, I went into over-think mode: Did I need an adrenaline rush? Serving my inner adolescent? Maybe I enjoyed soaring down above a mountainside just like "normal" people? Normalcy against the backdrop of recovery? Or vice versa? Evidence that I possess more self-confidence than I thought? Hmmm ... what about self-esteem? Or maybe just stop navel-gazing.
And that is pretty much my last 12 months, my first year as a recovering alcoholic. Scrutinizing and striving. But also just being. A year ago tonight, I downed my last -- and hopefully final -- drink.
Mentally and physically, I'm so much healthier. More energy and endurance, sharper, better at my job. Better focus and presence. Funny what happens when you stop pouring a calorie-laden depressant down your throat nearly every night and start working out -- lots of aerobic exercise -- four or five times a week. I've lost a ton (well, not literally!) of weight, mainly since Christmastime, am eating/dieting far more wisely and feel and look better than I have in years. It's amazing. Honestly, I even think my hair has improved in sobriety.
Emotionally, though, I'm limping. Recovery veterans remind us life keeps happening as we get better. The last year was lived in a decision that I believe ultimately saved me. It also evolved into the most jarring, difficult time of my life.
My beloved father died in his sleep 10 weeks ago. Completely unexpected. I miss Dad terribly; he was a good father, a good man. In the brief, blissful haze of waking, I don't remember it. Then I feel it all the way down to my bones until I can finally fall asleep at night. My equally loved mother, whose health has always worried us much more, remains very fragile. The fear of losing them in rapid succession can be almost paralyzing at times. One of my oldest, closest friends faces a challenging medical diagnosis. She's dear to me, more so in some respects than any other friend, and I ache over the long distance that prevents me from being there for her the way I'd like. Where I live, I needed -- and found -- a friend in recovery, which really seemed like a gift. Then blindsided: the once-trusted friendship vanished bafflingly, as though it never was; some cuts slowly leave behind scar tissue.
Did any of this give rise to thoughts of drinking? Yeah. Some desolate moments.
For me, it wouldn't have been a slip, an oops or "wounded, therefore entitled." Or a relapse, frankly. It would have been a conscious decision to push the self-destruct button. It still would be; I want a lifetime of sobriety and recovery.
And the ordinary challenges: the high-maintenance boss (ugh), the sometimes-aggravating extended family (argh), the losers who bashed in my car window but found nothing to steal ($#!%) and so on. Life. In the face of both its routine junk and the painful stuff, you just push forward. It's the only option, really.
Still, while recovery isn't all sunshine and lollipops, I'll gladly accept some if life tosses a little more my way in Year Two. (Or at least a reprieve.) There certainly have been good things, too, in Year One. Laughter, travel, friends, much-appreciated kindnesses, photography, professional wins. And it's remarkable how you still appreciate the "little" things, like feeling well in the morning, enjoying more time outdoors, or not having to re-read a chapter of a book after the previous night's fog lifts. I relish clear-headedness.
You learn a lot about yourself in recovery. I've learned the work continues. That's all right. I'm still swimming back up to the surface.
Thank you, SR. Though I post infrequently in this forum, I follow and think of fellow SRers often; my kind wishes are with you in times of triumph, trial and everything in between. Dee and Opivotal? They ought to have medals pinned to their chests -- often. The meeting room/chat regulars and chairs are great.
If I could give one bit of advice to newbies, it would be to join your SR class. The continuity my classmates and I experience helps us build our own accountability and awareness. We come from different walks of life but share a common thread that allows us to provide support in tough times and celebrate one another's many accomplishments. And we have lots of chuckles. They are wonderful, authentic people; chronicling our journey together is a blessing.
I am grateful. We can do this.
And that is pretty much my last 12 months, my first year as a recovering alcoholic. Scrutinizing and striving. But also just being. A year ago tonight, I downed my last -- and hopefully final -- drink.
Mentally and physically, I'm so much healthier. More energy and endurance, sharper, better at my job. Better focus and presence. Funny what happens when you stop pouring a calorie-laden depressant down your throat nearly every night and start working out -- lots of aerobic exercise -- four or five times a week. I've lost a ton (well, not literally!) of weight, mainly since Christmastime, am eating/dieting far more wisely and feel and look better than I have in years. It's amazing. Honestly, I even think my hair has improved in sobriety.
Emotionally, though, I'm limping. Recovery veterans remind us life keeps happening as we get better. The last year was lived in a decision that I believe ultimately saved me. It also evolved into the most jarring, difficult time of my life.
My beloved father died in his sleep 10 weeks ago. Completely unexpected. I miss Dad terribly; he was a good father, a good man. In the brief, blissful haze of waking, I don't remember it. Then I feel it all the way down to my bones until I can finally fall asleep at night. My equally loved mother, whose health has always worried us much more, remains very fragile. The fear of losing them in rapid succession can be almost paralyzing at times. One of my oldest, closest friends faces a challenging medical diagnosis. She's dear to me, more so in some respects than any other friend, and I ache over the long distance that prevents me from being there for her the way I'd like. Where I live, I needed -- and found -- a friend in recovery, which really seemed like a gift. Then blindsided: the once-trusted friendship vanished bafflingly, as though it never was; some cuts slowly leave behind scar tissue.
Did any of this give rise to thoughts of drinking? Yeah. Some desolate moments.
For me, it wouldn't have been a slip, an oops or "wounded, therefore entitled." Or a relapse, frankly. It would have been a conscious decision to push the self-destruct button. It still would be; I want a lifetime of sobriety and recovery.
And the ordinary challenges: the high-maintenance boss (ugh), the sometimes-aggravating extended family (argh), the losers who bashed in my car window but found nothing to steal ($#!%) and so on. Life. In the face of both its routine junk and the painful stuff, you just push forward. It's the only option, really.
Still, while recovery isn't all sunshine and lollipops, I'll gladly accept some if life tosses a little more my way in Year Two. (Or at least a reprieve.) There certainly have been good things, too, in Year One. Laughter, travel, friends, much-appreciated kindnesses, photography, professional wins. And it's remarkable how you still appreciate the "little" things, like feeling well in the morning, enjoying more time outdoors, or not having to re-read a chapter of a book after the previous night's fog lifts. I relish clear-headedness.
You learn a lot about yourself in recovery. I've learned the work continues. That's all right. I'm still swimming back up to the surface.
Thank you, SR. Though I post infrequently in this forum, I follow and think of fellow SRers often; my kind wishes are with you in times of triumph, trial and everything in between. Dee and Opivotal? They ought to have medals pinned to their chests -- often. The meeting room/chat regulars and chairs are great.
If I could give one bit of advice to newbies, it would be to join your SR class. The continuity my classmates and I experience helps us build our own accountability and awareness. We come from different walks of life but share a common thread that allows us to provide support in tough times and celebrate one another's many accomplishments. And we have lots of chuckles. They are wonderful, authentic people; chronicling our journey together is a blessing.
I am grateful. We can do this.
Congratulations!!!
Beautiful post Venecia, beautiful soul.
Thank you so much for participating in our weekly Chat Meetings and offering your heartfelt support to our newcomers.
It's been such a pleasure watching you grow in recovery. Keep up the great work.
Beautiful post Venecia, beautiful soul.
Thank you so much for participating in our weekly Chat Meetings and offering your heartfelt support to our newcomers.
It's been such a pleasure watching you grow in recovery. Keep up the great work.
Right back at you, friend.
Oh, thank you, Opi! You're an inspiration, indeed.
Oh, thank you, Opi! You're an inspiration, indeed.
Thank you for the kind comments.
Same to you! Have I ever told you I think you have the coolest screen name on all of SR?!
My friends/classmates helped a lot, Adv. Thanks, friend.
Same to you! Have I ever told you I think you have the coolest screen name on all of SR?!
My friends/classmates helped a lot, Adv. Thanks, friend.
Congratulations! I'm on my way there hope to meet you at a year soon. I really liked what you said especially the bit on how you described picking up as hitting the self destruct button. I believe many miracles post on this website and you are one of them!
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