Alone in a Place Where I Used to Drink

This will be a bit of freewriting, but I’d rather post it here than to my other site.

I know it’s here–I feel a pull to the left of the room, but that’s where it used to be, and I know it’s not there anymore. How? I checked when I was making breakfast, under the pretense of looking for peanut butter. Just need to aware of the enemy, I told myself, hoping it was true. It was, for the most part.

And now no one’s around, and this used to be the perfect time to sneak some drinks. I always sneaked them, too, even at home when no one was around. I was ashamed, I suppose, and would be ashamed now if I hunted until I found the stash. Because make no mistake, I could find it. I could close my eyes and crawl around and, I assure you beyond the shade of any doubt, I would find it, and then I would raise the bottle to my lips, and I would drink. And I wouldn’t stop.

Would. Could. There is the possibility, but the likelihood is so small that it’s a flitting gnat around my sober head, the brain inside running clean and making connections easily, the synapses firing normally, my emotions resting gently inside my ribs which fill with normal, measured breath. I imagine the bottle within arm’s reach, and I still don’t touch it. Instead, I make another cup of coffee, grab another handful of M&Ms.

Today, I have 299 reasons not to ferret out that bottle. 299 days and nights filled with the conscious, terribly hard, but determined decision that I no longer need alcohol. There was a time I most definitely needed it, though I never predicted my downfall at its miserably beautiful hands.

299 days of waking up and saying, “Just get your head to the pillow sober. That’s all you need to do.”

299 nights of falling asleep without a chemical wreaking havoc in my mind, body, and soul.

299 days of rebuilding the trust I ruined with my family.

299 nights of slowly but surely being able to look myself in the mirror and not hate what I see.

299 days of realizing that I can actually live a life of purpose instead of a mere shadow of existence.

299 nights of thanking the universe, of which I choose to believe I’m a vital part, for allowing me to continue this splendid experiment called life.

That’s all from the place I used to drink. Happy, sober Halloween to all.

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About Robert Crisp

Just a lad who likes to create.
This entry was posted in addiction, alcoholism, early sobriety, mindfulness, self-care, sober, sobriety and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Alone in a Place Where I Used to Drink

  1. 299. That’s a number with a lot of heft. Your list has left a broad smile on my face. Happy, sober Halloween, indeed.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. me-fixing-me says:

    299 (300) hooray’s for you. so well done.

    Liked by 1 person

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