My Daughter and I

We decorated our Christmas tree today and it was the first time in years it felt like Christmas. We listened to music and giggled and took turns pulling the cats off the tree. God, my blind one is an unspeakable nightmare about the tree.

As I type, I am keeping him company/holding him hostage in my room until he passes out and hopefully wakes up with no memory of that tree shining out there in the living room. One can hope.

But I digress.

In two days, I will be 1000 days sober. I can’t believe I just typed that. I will be starting that letter to myself tonight. I’m going to love that woman and tell her to be kinder to herself and to celebrate the hard-fought good.

I never expected that sobriety, while absolutely a God given blessing I honor and preserve, could be such an exercise in self-forgiveness. I think it’s the hardest part for me. Once I burned down the physical need and the fear of living in my emotions again, forgiving myself is the one thing that remains.

There is a kind of inherent selfishness in sobriety, and it is not lost on me that the people you hurt because they loved you through it all, still have to find a place for what you put them through, no matter how many good days you pile on top of the bad. I suppose I have to trust in the fact that God will show them things in their own journey, things that will make it all worthwhile.

All I can do is stay sober, let my light do what it wants to do and love the hell out of you and love the hell out of life.

1000 days on Monday. Goodness, there was a time when predicting that I’d be sober in two days was not a safe bet. I hung by a thread and couldn’t see beyond anything but my darkness and my pain. Now, I am in the strange territory of actually being excited for a Monday.

My heart and light go out to all of you as we approach the holidays, full of stress and Amazon deliveries and furrowed brows, pressed against mobile banking apps, holding on tight. But hopefully and mostly it’s full of love and gratitude and healing journeys and reconciliations.

I have watched so many of you with your brave faces, enduring whatever it is that is your story. Terrifying diagnoses. Loss of loved ones. Depression. Just surviving in a broken world. And then there are my fellow addicts. Your 10 years sober, 40 days, ten days, 1 day, no days. I am here for it all.

And I am here for all of you standing by those people. You are the first responders. The honest to God heroes. And you will never know what angels on Earth you are.

To my family, thank you for being my unconditional love and first response. I would not be here without you.

Please know that I remain an ear to those in need.

Love and precious happy holidays,

Sobriety Poet

P.S. My cat still hasn’t napped. Send help.