Tomorrow is the end of my eight weeks in rehab. Unlike Macbeth, I’ll leave without thinking life is but a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. If you need a refresher, here’s the full quote:
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing. – Macbeth Act 5, scene 5, 19–28
In the end, life may yet be a brief candle and ultimately signify nothing, but I choose not to dwell on that. As I said in a previous post, I choose to believe my life has meaning. I choose the story with God.
Tomorrow night, I’ll present my relapse prevention plan and ask for feedback. I’ll receive my graduation certificate, hug my friends, and perhaps shed a few tears. I’ll go to work the next day and when I’m done, I’ll go home and pick my son up from the bus stop. I’ll help him with his homework. After a while, we’ll go pick up his brother and play silly games on the car ride home. I won’t have to rush out to rehab; instead, I’ll make dinner for my family, something I really miss doing.
I have a support network. I have an AA home group I plan to get involved with, a wonderful sponsor, and a supportive immediate and extended family.
By George, I think I can keep doing this thing.