Saturday, February 8, 2014

Day 334 Grateful for the gift of desperation

Saw this line in a blog yesterday: "grateful for the gift of desperation." And I thought of my own desperation 24 years ago. End of my rope. Couldn't do it anymore. Find a way out or kill myself. Point was I'd been trying to find a way out by myself. All by myself. And getting sober doesn't work that way. Staying drunk does. Relapse does. But getting sober and staying sober isn't a solitary activity.

For a long time, it was hard for me to remember those last months of misery. The sickness, the toxicity, the perpetual nausea and headache. The shrinking window of relief when I'd consumed just enough. And all the pretending of being okay, pretending to be clear and alive, when I was dying inside.

Desperation drove me to the doctor that sultry Wednesday afternoon in September of 1989. Desperation carried me through the next three days before I went into treatment. It kept me in treatment for the 28 days. It got me to a gazillion meetings in the first years. Now I hold to the gift of desperation as a reminder of how far I've come and how close the past remains. And I am glad to be desperate to stay sober.

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