Two Days Old

Having clocked up forty something days of alcohol-free-living only to relapse, it's hard not to feel like a big fat failure. I need sobriety and now I want it even more. With reflection, I can see that I stopped practicing good self-care and then when an event happened that sucked the little energy I had and exposed some deep-seated grief, drinking seemed the only out.

Following relapse I was struck with a solid dose of depression. Depression...I never know how long that nasty little devil will suffer me with his paralyzing presence but I do know there are tools in my self-care box so essential to my basic health and healing that when left unopened for a while, it swaps out with a high risk of relapse that will almost absolutely trigger a bout of depression where normal actions become snowy mountains I can't climb. Teeth aren't brushed, appointments are cancelled, thoughts and feelings plummet and even though I know alcohol helped me there, a drink while in that place, still seems like a refuge, a safe place to numb and hide. Except it's not safe, nothing about the way I've been drinking is safe. The despair may pass out for a time, then I wake feeling ill and hating myself a little more. Hating the smell, the taste, the behavior, hating that I can't remember all the things I'd said and done but sure I'd been sloppy, annoying, awful. Most of all I hate the weakness. Drinking leaves me feeling so incredibly weak. I have a cycle, a pattern. I manage to travel along well for a week or two without getting drunk and then as soon as the shit hits the fan somewhere I binge and breakdown. Its an ever-circling-sameness-of-destruction.

It came to me this morning to treat my sobriety as if she were a newborn. She is young, only two days old. She is presently so fragile but has the potential to grow strong and old. Because this baby is so young she needs a lot of feeding and rest. She needs fresh air and sunshine. Right now she needs a little walk. Not too fast or far. She's delicate and yesterday she could barely crawl. The moment I stop protecting her, I neglect her. She is too precious. Too important and must be kept safe.

I'm reminding myself now as I write to be thankful when the depression lifts as it has now but to take it easy. Rest. Eat well. Read and watch things that bring comfort or educate. Pray. Meditate. Small steps Little One.