The one thing I never really anticipated at any point in my life is befriending a (recovering) crack addict. It’s not been uncommon for me to flippantly say to a friend, “Stop acting like such a crack head,” or whatever, but yesterday I found myself brought to the point of tears by one such human being.
I shared at the meeting I went to about how there’re these warring feelings in me. I’m scared I’ll fail at sobriety, but also scared I’ll succeed. I don’t know who I am with it, I don’t know who I am without it. It doesn’t matter it’s been over a year since I’ve had a sip of alcohol. Doesn’t matter it’s been two years since I got fall down drunk. What I’m learning every day is that there’s a difference between being a dry drunk and being a sober alcoholic.
It’s these warring feelings that have me sitting in the corner with my head and hands hanging down between my knees when I sit in meetings, particularly in meetings where I don’t already know anybody. Yesterday the gentleman I met shared after me, “I see you over there hanging your head and hands. And I get what you’re saying about being scared.”
This gentleman was so flipping kind. So supportive. I hope to someday have the kind of impact on another person that he had on me just by looking at me and saying, “I get it. It’ll get better.”
He didn’t say, “It’ll get easier,” just, “It’ll get better.” And as I/we struggle with addiction and mental health issues of X, Y, Z persuasion sometimes the assurance that it’ll get better is the assurance we need to step back over the doorstep. As this gentleman also said to me, “Nobody steps though the door because it’s easy.” We just want better. In the beginning I, at least, will be content with less bad.
mydarkestplaces 