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Undread

June 29, 2017

 

 

I suddenly find myself three years sober. I've been contemplating how to write about this milestone for weeks. Recently distracted and shamelessly overwhelmed with life events, to a degree that I actually did not over analyze this past year in recovery. It just "happened." Odd how the days amass when conducting myself like a palpable, functioning adult.

 

Life evolved this year. My godmother died. I said my final farewell to my amazing dad. I went through a tumultuous and extended break up; my first one sober. My eldest daughter graduated from high school, while we opted to pull my youngest daughter out of public school to embark on a home school scenario. Most recently, I resigned from a reliable job to engage in this new, unfamiliar path of educating my child.

 

That's a lot of shit. A whole lot.

 

My therapist asked me to imagine a scenario: What if you had been told one year ago, or even six months ago, that all of these life events would materialize? Leading me into absolutely uncharted territory, a real transformation in my sobriety.

 

I would not have believed it. Nor would I have welcomed it. Any of it.

 

However, my gratitude abounds. Exhausted and somewhat anxious? Unquestionably. Waiting for the next move to be revealed,  I do so without any evident amount of dread.

 

Three years ago I was paralyzed by dread on a daily, sometimes hourly basis. For me, dread is not fear. It is an emotion characterized by boredom, lethargy, laziness, selfishness, non existent self esteem, and yes...fear. Dread was the contrived outcome of my lack of human authenticity. An unrealistic, inner dialog with myself, that I would be "found out." That I was an emotional adolescent, masquerading as an adult.

 

My list of dread was as follows:

 

Financial instability

Financial responsibility

Loneliness

Companionship

Hurting my children

Loving my children

Illness

Health

Failure

Success

Lies

Truth

Death

Life

Love

Hate

 

I recognize a plethora of self imposed imbalance on that list (accompanied by a dozen more blog ideas). Dread of pain and joy. Just and unjust. I once suggested that my addiction eased some of this dread; pain. A suggestion of delusion.

 

Drinking obliterated legitimate coping skills. It diluted raw and pure emotions, and diverted my responsiveness to life.

 

In the past year I have embraced the “undread.”  Welcoming the concept that feeling anxious and occasionally fearful is typical. To truly live is to let go of dread and the unrealistic expectation that life is painless. Realizing that our best laid plans are not truly of our making at all. There is a power greater than ourselves that releases us from the responsibility of dread and morose repercussions.

 

Life for me is not easier in recovery, not by a long shot. Yet I am amazingly content, mostly serene, and able to accept that my worst day sober is far more acceptable than my best day drunk.

 

Embracing the journey. One day, one moment, one new trail at a time.  


 

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