Early Sobriety
What is early sobriety like?
It’s rainbows and unicorns and soft kittens and sweet pug puppies that love you
for days. It’s being scared and anxious all the time. It’s fingernails on a
chalkboard for what feels like hours at a time. It’s the choice between sliding
down a hundred foot razor blade and fighting Russell Crow as the “Gladiator”
It’s emotions so deep and painful that, even though you begin to feel a little
better physically, you just want to use again to get away from yourself. But
you can never get away from yourself. And your brain, that won’t stop thinking
of what it could be like, telling you, in your own voice, it won’t be so bad
this time. (Or you won’t get arrested.) Your brain that lies to you and is
always there, ready with another reason to use just one more time. And that’s
just the first hour or so. And there are many hours, in many days. And,
sometimes, it’s many seconds, in many minutes in those hours. That anyone can
remain sober in those first, painful months is a miracle.
I’ve had a couple of bad days
so this may come off negative. I got scammed by a total lying stranger. (Not
badly but it made me feel like the entire human race sucks.) My best friend has (very treatable) cancer. I read the news
which depresses me. And I listen to people share things in meetings that are
sometimes so heartbreaking I want to cry. I passed a guy a note today as he
looked so sad. They say addicts feel too much which might be true. I feel
empathy for everyone’s story. But when we’re in our addiction, we are selfish,
thoughtless, irresponsible human beings.
One of the harder parts is
life goes on for everyone else. My brothers who, aren’t speaking to me, are
doing so much. I want to ask, “How was the wedding?” “How did my nephews do in
X-Country and Football?” “How are the dogs? “Have you moved into the new house
yet?” “Will you ever send me a funny text again?” I don’t know if I’ll ever
find out those things from them.
Sometimes I feel sorry for
myself. Why did this happen to me? I rarely did drugs before becoming an addict
at age thirty. I didn’t even smoke pot! I wasn’t a goody good but I wasn’t
horrible either. What did I ever do that badly for this to happen to me? (Okay,
there was the 80’s where I wore bad clothes and too much make up.)
So I spend my time hanging
with sober women, going to meetings, sometimes going to court and praying in
between. My sober girls mean so much to me. It says in AA’s Big Book “we are
not a glum lot”. So fricking true. Often, I’m the one being laughed out as I am
so gullible and I don’t know this area at all. (I am resistant to learning the
suburbs as I’m a city girl.) I just get in the car and they take me wherever
they want and regularly lie about it. (But it’s always fun.) And sometimes, at
my lowest, I think of using or, more pleasantly, a knight on a white steed
(black works, too) taking me away from this life I’ve made for myself. But then
I cowboy up and realize I must make my own life. One where I can depend on
myself, think things through, be honest and be happy. But I still wish for unicorns and pug puppies.
Addiction sucks. But if you’re
touched by it, I urge compassion and understanding. Intervene. Demand
treatment. But do something. Our lives depend on it.
