Extracting the Blur To See Rainbows and David Bowie
If something is keeping you from being fully present and showing up in your life the way you want, then deciding to change that thing is an actual matter of life and death, you know? It’s the difference between existing and actually living.
We Are the Luckiest: The Surprising Magic Of A Sober Life
Laura McKowen
This.
I read these lines this morning. This is it. What I feel. My being, right now, in print. Exactly what I mean when I say I need to quit drinking. How strongly I feel about the conclusion I’ve drawn about the vast difference between what my life was and what I want it to be.
Who I want to be.
My predicament may not be readily seen by the outside world. I may not fit the broken caricature of an alcoholic. I’m not even using that word when it comes to describing myself right now. What I do know is that it is a problem for me.
When you wake up from a dream, and you know it was amazing and you were flying and there were unicorns, fairies, waterfalls, the most glorious food you’ve ever seen. Prince and Bowie jamming under a tree with John the Baptist on the tambourine. All your best and brightest friends and family are laughing, eating, playing with baby elephants and tigers, and crazily enough it all seems quite normal. But as soon as your eyes start to flutter, as soon as you become fully conscious, the vision dims. There is a 1/2 second of recognition, grasping to keep the story alive and then the inevitable fade to black. The disappearing. So much so that all you are left with is a feeling of wonder and delight but also great sadness because you know it was incredible and your heart was bursting with joy but you have no memory of it. No tangible recollection. Snippets but no story. Five percent of all the goodness. Not enough.
That isn’t quite what it is for me, not that extreme obviously, but it is the closest simile I can think of.
I don’t want to be piecing together a foggy scenario. I want to be able to see the grooves in the unicorns horn. The nuances of rainbows in the mist of waterfalls. Stare into the oddness of David Bowies permanently blown pupil. Smell all the flowers, taste all the cheeses and be filled with the uproariousness of unencumbered, pee your pants laughter.
If my drinking is impeding my ability to soak things up? If I see it as an obstacle to living the big juicy life I want? If it has blurred some of my most priceless memories? A few, completely removed? If I can’t be fully present in my life because of it? Then it needs to go.
Addiction is giving up everything for one thing.
Recovery is giving up one thing for everything.
Again.
This.
I was, to some extent, missing out on the amazing parts; as well as the painful stuff and the mundane beauty found in every day moments. Truth is: all of that is important. It’s all part of a well lived, well examined and joyful life.
So if there is one thing to remove to usher in a fresh new perspective and vibrancy, and for me that one thing is alcohol, it has to be extracted.
It’s day 95.
95 days sober, aware, fully present in my life.
I can’t see going back.
Jennifer