Life… On Its Own Terms

Dear Disease,
I won this month. It’s not a strong win, but it is a win.

I haven’t been to a meeting in over a week (yikes) — and to think that just over a month ago I was sitting at a meeting near my treatment center, surrounded by a phalanx of other inmates, and wondering how 90 meetings in 90 days could be so hard to achieve.

In the past month, I have not:
1) gotten in touch with friends — I talked to my first friend today (she got the aneurysm tale)
2) stayed in touch with my sister Dawn
3) figured out what to do with my life
4) straightened out my horrific financial situation
5) made any progress with my husband — we have our first counseling appointment this coming Friday
6) attended meetings daily
7) gotten a sponsor
8) attended any social events with people in recovery

but, MUCH more importantly, I HAVE:
1) reunited with Mimi (!!!!!)
2) slept through the night without any sleep aid
3) spent a weekend at my Mom’s “without help,” as I’m fond of saying
4) flown across the country — again without *ahem* help
5) stayed in touch with my mom, my dad, and my sister Sarai
6) MOST IMPORTANT — I HAVE NOT RELAPSED. Can I say that again? I HAVE NOT TAKEN A DRINK OR A PILL. To those of you out there who don’t get that — which is to say, all of you who are saying “I don’t get what the big deal is” — let me assure that that is A VERY BIG DEAL.

In some circles, it would be said that that is EVERYTHING.

Which is just flat out surreal. Six months ago I was the poster child for the position: if you don’t want to get drunk, don’t drink that liquid, dummy! If you want to lose weight, don’t eat that brownie! What’s so hard about that?

HA. Life can hand out a comeuppance, can’t it?

I am going to call this month a cautiously successful first month post-rehab.

I can feel that I am fighting this lifestyle every step of the way. I am the type who goes to the gym because it’s good for her and she HAS to, not because I enjoy it. At all. One thing I learned in rehab was that the primary purpose for reviewing my history is to learn more about myself; what I like and don’t like, for example, is apparent more in where I happily spent my time than in what I write on a “getting to know me” form.

Another thing I preached before but poorly practiced. I remember hearing somewhere the notion that we all have the EXACT same amount of allotted time: 24 hours a day. How and where we spend it really reveals what is important to us. The saying “I didn’t have enough time to …” is disingenuous. What we mean when we say that is that we didn’t have enough time to [whatever] when we’d finished doing all the OTHER things that were more important, whether by our choice or because, for example, we were getting paid to do them and needed the money.

How many times I thought that to myself, and still plowed along. How much time I lost … gave away … whatever. There’s a reason that condition is referred to as “wasted.”

So now, while I know I cannot go back to the way I was living before, I am sad at the loss. I feel right this second like I’ve been diagnosed with an illness — one that will stay in remission as long as I do not do certain things. But I like those things!!! Sad, but true.

So… this first month has been a very mixed experience. I’m definitely not a cheerleader for recovery — I can’t even call myself “sober” yet because while I haven’t used I also haven’t felt content or [at all] serene. Truth be told, I’m pretty fucking miserable.

But Mimi … oh, she just keeps getting better and better.

And… I HAVE NOT USED.

So there.

Love,
Robin