Everything.
I spent most of my years searching for love. It was those few missing pieces from the 1000 piece puzzle. I army crawled the carpet, sifted the vacuum bag—twice. The puzzle was eventually moved back to the box. I never enjoyed the 997 correctly placed pieces nor did it occur to me that I could have searched elsewhere for the missing pieces.
For me, this was how the love thing went. There was always missing pieces, always searching, and never finding. My first unhealthy loves were sugar and television. The teen years ushered in boys, alcohol, and escape. My 20’s were more of my teens, only amplified. The 30’s were best, because I felt I had arrived: career, marriage, kids—alcohol.
I, presumably, had everything I’d ever wanted. Why wasn’t I happy? Why wasn’t I feeling the love? What was wrong with me? Why did I drink every night? This couldn’t possibly be as good as it gets. Tell me it isn’t as good as it gets. Life—life is so overrated!
Alcohol needed to go. It was, after all, the problem. It was why I wasn’t feeling the love.
I got sober the year I turned 40 determined that the removal of alcohol was the answer. I wanted the love and it sure wasn’t in the bottom of the wine bottle or the bottle I opened after that.
It was no longer okay to continue without my missing pieces. I was going to have to find a way. I didn’t get all my affairs in order so I could get sober. I just got sober. The reward for sober is, well, sober. That’s it. That is the prize. Sober isn’t the insta-fix to life. It’s the spare tire until you put the new one on.
Alcohol was exacerbating the underlying problem and disguising itself as the solution. I definitely had an alcohol problem, but I had a bigger problem underneath—it was me. Me and the way I thought and the way I operated. This is why sobriety was so difficult. I couldn’t function better sober (initially). I functioned worse in early sobriety because for the first time I was seeing what a mess I was. I was seeing how ill-equipped I was at life. I needed a drink to deal with sobriety. Opps that’s not allowed.
There was never a good day to get sober because on a good day I wanted to drink to celebrate the good day. I drank when it was bad and I drank when it was good. Duh … alcoholics drink, that’s why we’re called alcoholics.
Nothing around me was going to conform and conspire so I could get and remain sober. I was simply going to have to pick a day and get started, lest the day get picked for me. (And I did not want my sobriety to start in a jail cell, with casualties.)
I didn’t get sober because it was easy. I got sober because I was no longer willing to live without the love. I was no longer going to hate myself, not remember, say I’m sorry, blame you, black out, embarrass myself, embarrass my family, harm people I love, and risk my life.
I choose to love myself today. I don’t have to choose not to drink. When I choose Love there is no room for alcohol to enter.
I can get sober out of desperation, but I stay sober out of love. Love is the missing piece.
I no longer fool myself …
Love’s got everything to do with it.
