This morning, I read an excellent article on Sobernation called “5 Daily Inventory Questions That Will Keep You Sober.” In particular, I resonated with the section on resentments and how dangerous they are.
I’ve spent a good portion of my life feeling resentful and blaming others for my problems. I’m aware of how it feels when those resentful feelings start to creep up, and I do my best simply to notice them–not judge myself for having them but merely acknowledge that I have resentful feelings. I know they’ll pass, and I remind myself that I don’t need to act on those feelings (and certainly not drink over them).
I’m struggling lately with letting go of a particular story line, one that says I deserve more time to devote to my art (writing and music). I don’t necessarily deserve that time. If I can find a way to incorporate it into my schedule, that’s great, and I’m usually good at doing that. When I’m not so good at it–because of work obligations or making supper or looking over homework–I can get overwhelmed, a feeling which can quickly land me square in middle of bitterness and resentment. These feelings are all fear-based. And we all know where fear leads:
The Dark Side led me to drinking and left me there to rot…until I realized what was happening and turned away from it. This time last year is when the when the wheels starting coming off. My life unraveled, day by day, and I became a person who literally drank in order to live with the damage I caused myself and my family. It was horrific; I became an entirely different person, and then I put on a mask and pretended nothing was wrong.
When my conscience tried telling me otherwise, I shut it fuck up by drinking more . I’m utterly convinced that during this time, I crossed from an average alcoholic to an end-stage one. I isolated like never before, my work suffered, my relationships frayed to the breaking point, and I drank around the clock. The pattern would have either landed me in jail or dead. I haven’t lost sight of that. Just because I didn’t rack up DUIs or spend any time in jail doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have, just as there was no guarantee that I would drink myself into an early grave as other family members did. It just hadn’t happened Y.E.T. (You’re Eligible, Too).
I thank God every day I wake up that I’m alcohol-free and that I have another 24 hours to live soberly, to read sobriety blogs, to write poetry and stories when I can, and to carve out a little time to write a song every now and then. I have a chance at life, and I didn’t have a chance before.
Thanks for taking time to read. I hope Wednesday is good to you.