Guess what? We are expecting a heatwave today, temperatures soaring up to 30 degrees Celcius. All my newly planted seedlings will be killed off. That is how gardening goes. A host of blue and gold butterflies have come out in the sudden heat.
Had coffee and a sublimely rich and sticky pecan pie with a friend celebrating eight years sober. How has it been? I asked, unwisely. She wiped brioche crumbs off her lower lip, sat back and considered.
‘Well at first I was happy just to wake up in the morning without throwing up. That lasted about a year. Then I had a brilliant second year in which everything went so well I kept pinching myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. After that I had three dreadful years and wanted to throw myself off a bridge most mornings. I tried desperately to improve myself and everyone around me and they all took off like greased lightning. Then I decided to just accept my messy incorrigible self and stop pursuing self-help gurus. After that it got easier, but then I did a Cordon Bleu course and put on so much weight my former mother-in-law didn’t recognise me. I started smoking again after a family crisis. And somewhere about that time I had a religious conversion to some vegan sect, but after a month or two I woke up and realised this must be A Menopausal Thing. Then there was another family crisis and I woke up crying every morning for months, had to wear dark glasses to the supermarket. But right after that I was given a dog and everything got better. Then I had that Law Suit Thing with the neighbours, let’s not go there again., I used to wake up screaming with rage and wanting to buy a gun to shoot the lawyer. And all along I just kept going to meetings and trying to pay attention and doing service, not very well, but I kept doing it anyway. People would fall asleep or begin texting when I shared my story in meetings, but I went ahead and shared regardless. I know I do go on a bit. Anyhow, last year there was the mastectomy and I bargained all the time with God and everyone else, was scared all the time and then I started to feel better about three weeks ago. Now I feel fine and happy to be here sober and alive. Just another boring sobriety saga, isn’t it?’
I am sitting here with a big smile on my face.
Thank you for having the wisdom to share this.
This reminds me of a speaker tape I have of Marie Stinner where she shares a similar experience. As a matter of fact, so much horrible stuff happened to her at 17 years sober that she simply stopped sharing in meetings because she couldn’t, in good conscience, tell any newcomer to keep coming back. But she pulled through and of course things got better.
I love this. Isn’t life one hell of a ride!
Life on life’s terms–an interesting saga and yet she kept sobriety. That is a wonderful thing.
[...] Jazeera report on how Face Book was so necessary to the revolution in Egypt recently, I opened this letter from Louisey about a friend of hers. It describes the ordinary life story of a recovering alcoholic. A [...]
I hear beautiful/sad/true tales like this every week in rooms and yet your writing, Louisey makes me cry a little…for your friend…for myself…for all of us? http://wp.me/pwSS2-46
Love always
Mike