Why?! Because... Friday.

    I did some really grown up shit today. Some shit that most people take for granted. I paid my phone bill. On time. I paid my car insurance. On time. I paid two weeks of rent to line it up with my pay schedule. I have a pay schedule! And then I did something that my entire being and all that I am will that I me for some day. I emailed the child support supporters with my job information so they can start garnishing my check so Bella has what she needs. I was supposed to start paying last July. This is the first time I have been able to report income. Since last July. 

That same day, the day that I had worked for for two plus years, hours and hours of intense work to make myself a whole functioning member, entity, human, recovering addict, mother fighting for a chance to be in my daughter’s life, less than 10 hours later, the disease told me to drink. I have a friend that says says the disease is quite the fucker because it sounds exactly like her in her head. But she knows it’s not her. And even though it has taken me years to figure out that concept, I can still be duped by my own head. The disease of addiction is cunning, baffling and powerful. It doesn’t fuck around. 

This idea came to me in the middle of a gd meeting! I live in a sober living home. I get kicked out if I drink. I knew my roommate was out for the night. And right smack dab in the middle of one of those A meetings, my brain said, let’s drink. No, my brain said, I want to drink. It will be easy. I can drink a little, just enough. I have a headache from a cold. I have a room to myself. I have a bathroom close enough. IT WILL BE FUN AND RELAXING! And I won’t get caught. I have had severe substance use disorder for 20 years. In that entire time, I have never once drank a little, or even just enough. Addiction is a disease that tells you you do not have a disease and once I put a substance into my body, I physically CANNOT stop drinking. But in the middle of a meeting, my brain is gonna say, I want a drink. It will be fun. It will relax me. It will help my headache. I will go to sleep in my safe sober living house and wake up and go to another meeting tomorrow. 

What it sure as hell doesn’t tell me is that someone will smell alcohol on me. I will have 59 minutes to leave my safe haven of grace. I will have nowhere to go and will attempt to impose on loved ones, many of whom are also recovering addicts. After gathering a few minimal items getting no sympathy from my house mates that I just put in danger, I will drive the streets, get more booze, maybe find a shitty motel because I have that job now, remember? I’ll be fine, says brain. By the end of the night I will be lucky to be making it to the toilet to puke, if I found a place with a toilet. I will have given away my home. I will have given away myself. I will be right back where I have been hundreds of times. All in the blink of an eye that looked away from the road for one second. 

But that didn’t happen today. I decided I wanted to keep living. I don’t want to die. I wanna see my little girl again. I want to see my mother, grandmother, and girlfriend again. I want to finish that college degree. I want to help others live too. I want to be a part of society, not a rejected helpless hopeless drunk. Not to-fucking-day. And that’s all I have to do. To-day. One day. No. Matter. What. At times it seems so simple. And then I can’t breathe. And I can’t move. And I think you cannot live without a drink. I don’t know how! My skin doesn’t fit. The self hates rises in my chest. All my work is tossed to the wayside. I can’t live. I don’t know how. 

But that didn’t happen today. 

I decided, god decided, in that same meeting that I was going to run home and tell my roommates what I was thinking and feeling. I was going to reach out. This is new. I drove past easily 10-20 liquor stores not noticing one. I arrived home to an almost empty house. The murder that lives in my head said, see I could have gotten away with it. God lovingly mentioned to that murder that I didn’t need their help. I walked to my room, pulled out my journal and wrote a similar story to the one you are reading now. I made a gratitude list. I spoke with the love of my life, told her my scary story with pride. And then I went to bed. 

You see the amazing part about this story is that this is a very common occurrence for me. This is just a day in the life of an addict. And I often DO NOT make it through situations like this. My work continues. For the rest of my life. But just for today, no matter what, I am sober as fuck. #loveholly