Bondage of self

In a recent meeting I went to someone referred to the steps of sobriety as, “Freedom from the bondage of self.” Queue yet another instance of me getting somewhat verklempt in a meeting. By somewhat I might actually mean close to full on crying, but that’s a minor detail. It doesn’t matter that I’d never in my life met the person who said that, who knows if I’ll meet them again, but this spoke so loudly to my insides. Is this not a large part of why any of us embark upon a journey to sobriety, a journey to not self-harm?

Thinking about this journey as a journey is so tremendously overwhelming to me. I know it is a journey. I know it’s going to take time. I know it’s going to take a hell of a lot of work. But I also know I can’t think of it as a journey.

I have to wake up and not drink. I have to wake up and not cut. I have to go to bed and not drink. I have to go to bed and not cut. If I start thinking about tomorrow, Monday, Tuesday, 2016, 2017, I’ll start freaking out. 

It seems fitting to me that my Day 1 will forever (hopefully) be the first day of summer. Going into summer things are so fresh; so optimistic. We’ve shed the dark of Winter, the doubt of Spring and have reached a place – weather-wise – where there’s more sun than any other time of year.

Today I’m not going to drink. Today I’m not going to cut. Today that’s going to be okay, that’s got to be enough.

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