seven incredible, sorta kinda quiet, earth-shaking, mind-blowing (and terrifyingly wide open and raw) years without a drink

so today’s the day. happy birthday to me. officially seven years without a drink. not a glass of wine. not a pint of beer. and absolutely NO yummy little limey vodka tonics with teeny tiny straws.

in my first weeks of sobriety, i unraveled the bits and pieces of myself, and i also noticed dogwood trees for the first time. no, not because i had been passed out in a gutter for all the years before. and no, not because i was a self-obsessed boozehound (well, maybe a little; maybe a little, still…) who couldn’t make time for such mind-numbing things like the natural world. but because i was raw and ready and aching for any kind of sign that there was more for me in this world. i was ravenously seeking.

i will never forget the way pink looked completely different that spring. the way it stopped me in my tracks. and the way, at the same time, i felt every dribble of everyday pain and discomfort and still wanted to trudge forward. i took everything as a sign that i was on the right path. i took the leap and opened myself up for the blur-free bounty the world had in store for me. suddenly, i had room for something else, lots of room, and that spring and its pretty dogwoods were all over me.

in the last seven years, i have filled the hole that i longed to fill with drinking with many other things: writing, worry, dreams, stubbornness, reality tv, cookies, marriage, mamahood, anxiety, nature, prayer. some good, some not so good. but none of these things have cut me off at the kneecaps the way the mis-emotions and mis-connections of drinking did. seven years ago, i put down the glass so i could learn to feel what i was feeling and to make room for something new. something real. something hopefully more effective. and less embarrassing.

of course, there are still days i flail around in fear and anxiety, and i still can’t make a decision to save my life. if you read this blog regularly, i don’t have to tell you this. sometimes i still mis-connect with other people or shy away from connecting out of fear. or i try too hard to connect with people who probably find me, well, probably a little too intense (trust me, the birds in my neighborhood are currently finding me a little too intense). and worse than anything, i still have to remind myself to turn down the volume inside (and without vodka). knowing it’s possibly amplified or misdirected by my very being. and knowing not everyone is the same as me. and trying to remember all that’s really okay too.

today (right now this very second) i am still seeking. still filling. the hole inside some of us is deep, my friends. but my god, i am ready for that first dogwood to burst in a few days. those dogwoods will stop me in my tracks. i know this for sure, and i will feel wholly connected to everything for a just little while.