As time moved on, it seemed my daughter was relieved of her burdens. Life was as I imagine the aftermath of a volcanic eruption to be…the energy has been released and it’s quiet for a time. It’s still burning hot, and the magma slowly solidifying…alive but quiet. That’s how it felt. I continued to have a deeply unsettled feeling personally, but she was ok and every day she seemed more and more that way…(the light that can shine through each time life breaks you, is so fucking beautiful).

Resilience…it sure is something.

My love’s birthday came around and, as far as I can honestly acknowledge to myself in this moment, it was somewhat of a point of no return for me…or at least the beginning of one if things didn’t change for the better.

I went to his house that Friday night as per usual every other weekend. It was the only time we had together. I don’t remember if he went to his meeting that particular Friday, but I’m thinking not as I DO remember that it didn’t take long for him to stop going to meetings in general.

We were messing around and playfighting. We eventually ended up in his bedroom where I noticed that he had packed some bags. When I asked him what they were for, he said that he had planned an overnight thing with some people for his birthday the next day…

He must have felt what I was feeling before I even said anything because he was suddenly wrapping his arms around me. On the surface, it may not sound like a big deal, but to the wide-open safe that was now within me…it spoke volumes…

As I said, we had been on one date in well over a year by then. He didn’t have the time, but he always had the time for other people and other things. Who these other people were, I had no idea. He spoke of having no friends but had more random people in his world than anyone I knew. And besides his immediate family, I didn’t know any of the players in his life. It didn’t occur to him to tell me of his plans and that it was breaking our plans. I wasn’t who he wanted to spend his birthday with. And then all of a sudden, I remembered all the other weekends that he had made time for his interests and would cancel a weekend together. I remembered all the things I had previously rationalized away…

Honestly, it rocked me. All of it…

His actions were showing me exactly who and what were important to him, despite his loving words and our seemingly otherworldly connection. It didn’t match up…I was giving him meals and he was giving me crumbs. As a grown woman with an appetite, what am I supposed to do with crumbs?? I was fucking starving.

I ended up leaving sometime in the early morning before anyone woke up. I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t think straight. Maybe I was running from him physically but dealing with “him” and not him, clouded me…the old swirling of the fog. I was needing to be with me. I was needing to be with these new realizations. I ignored his messages and calls until I was ready to deal with him, which was about 2 days later.

In those 2 days, I went to some meetings, and I sat with myself. Not watching TV or scrolling social media. I may have played in the garden a little bit, but mostly it was just me with me…pondering, processing…

~

Something I love about life now is that I fit in my skin in a way I never could have imagined…I have a space inside me that goes everywhere my body does, but also beyond. A space no one can hurt or touch with dirty fingers. A place few have access to. I could explore the depths for ages without tiring or needing to come up for air…I could bask in the sun forever…

I love it, of course, because it wasn’t always that way…

Once in my first year of sobriety, Betsy stood with me for hours and hours in her driveway in the middle of the night. Something was wrong in me, and I didn’t know what. I just couldn’t say it. I could not reach the words (or didn’t even have the words) that would’ve released all the pain. If I could’ve cried, I would have, but the years of suppression wouldn’t yet let me. But she knew. She knew what was wrong because she was me 20 years earlier (what a gift). She knew I hated myself and was scared out of my mind. Scared of the pain. Scared of life…of facing it all. She knew of the guilt, shame, and remorse I carried from all the things I had done and things that had been done to me.

I could formulate only one desperate question…”How will I ever be able to live in my own skin???!!!”

“Sam,” she promised, “If you make staying sober the most important thing in your life and keep it that way, you’ll have the world by the balls. Stay out of your head. It’s a dangerous place. Get out of yourself by helping other women to stay sober. Even if they don’t, you DID. Keep going to meetings. Just keep going…you are not the same person you were. If you don’t pick up one drink, one drug, for one day, you’re gonna be ok.”

God…if that could only be true.  I just want to be ok.

I so needed that type of direction then.  Simple suggestions that I could do when it felt like I couldn’t do anything.  I could call her (even though I was terrified to) and go to a meeting every day.  Then, I could build on that baby step by baby step.  I had practically just met her, but she knew me better than anyone and the only thing she wanted was to see me stay sober (how amazing?!).

An actual miracle was happening, and I didn’t even know!  If I would have given up at any point, I never would have known.

“Don’t give up.  The miracle could be right around the corner.”

There were many years sober that my greatest fantasy was driving my car into a tree and not surviving. Betsy was the only person who knew. I didn’t think in a million years I would be able to stay sober. I didn’t know how I was going to be able to live without drugs and alcohol. Everything felt hard…the smallest human interaction was exhausting. I was angry on the outside and full of fear on the inside. To the extent that I hated the world, I hated myself.

I don’t hate myself like that anymore and haven’t in a long time.

I often imagine myself as a sloth in my growth…digging my claws into whatever experience comes my way and slowly inching through. It would take a few decades, but my gratitude overflows most days now. It’s imperative to always attribute this gift to remembering the horror I would hate to return to. It’s not “me.” It’s not something I can do on my own. Even still…regular attendance at meetings, helping other alcoholics, asking God to keep me sober every day, thanking Him every night, not picking up a drink or a drug no matter what happens. Any lengths even when the temptation seems so far away (especially then)…that’s how we remember…

“Chop wood. Carry water,” Zen proverb.

~

When I finally did call him, he was angry…how dare I not respond to him?

We were able to talk it out and smooth things over just enough to not break up quite yet. As he had previously determined. Time would tell, though, that it wasn’t all good. It didn’t feel good to me…this person…this one person in the whole wide world that I was so sure got me…suddenly didn’t get me at all. And I didn’t get him either. AA wasn’t a priority to him. He had zero friends, but collections of people. His kids were becoming zombies for technology again and that was fine by him. I just couldn’t shake the question…who was he??

At times it would feel like those early years where I couldn’t find him even though he was right there. Other times, it felt wonderfully hopeful…acknowledging how far we’d come and how amazing it was that we were getting through some big issues. We would talk about the future and imagine what our dream life would look like together with the kids. Sometimes I would look at him doing little chores and see him as an old man…knowing that I would love him still…

BUT if the foundation’s not right, the cracks will show themselves in time (didn’t we already learn this lesson?)…and all the cosmetics in the world won’t fix it…all I could do was make sure that my contributions to the home were sound…and if I did that truly, and the house still fell, so be it…

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