It’s been said that I speak of and share my traumas and experiences with grace. Lately, it is something I’ve been pondering because, in all honesty, I’m selective about what I choose to reveal, write, or share. I am afraid of being judged and, in some ways, afraid of being truly seen. I aim to provoke contemplation while sharing my experiences, and sometimes, in my quest to be articulate, I fear I might miss the essence of what I want to convey.
This week, I’m taking a different approach because I believe it’s crucial for you to understand that the path to healing is far from neat and tidy. Sobriety and the journey it entails are messy. Loving oneself through it all is a messy, and forgiving oneself, well that’s messy too. As I marked the four-year milestone of my sobriety last week, I felt a sense of accomplishment, but it was accompanied before and after by a war of the voices in my head. Over the past month, I’ve encountered moments where I’ve craved a drink so intensely, I could almost taste it. I’m undergoing personal transitions, which have led to countless questions and because uncertainty is something I struggle to cope with, its driving me a little nuts. There have been times when I’ve longed for that ‘fun girl’ who, when intoxicated, was fearless, assured, driven, and seemingly without shame. I miss her sometimes, more so lately. Truly, I do.
I’ve shed tears until there were none left, faced sleepless nights with my mind racing wildly. Yet each morning, I put on a brave face and carry on. I’m re-evaluating the choices I’ve made, wondering if I took the right path. My life and my surroundings feel like they’re closing in on me, and I feel powerless. I find myself in a dark tunnel, with no light at either end, no ground beneath me, and no walls to lean on. It’s disorienting, destabilizing, and fear-inducing.
I’m not sharing this to elicit pity—far from it. I want you to see that I’m just human, far from having it all together, despite appearances. I was raised during a time when you hid your pain, your shame, and your mistakes. Vulnerability was viewed as a weakness because it exposed you to potential hurt from others. Struggles were confined to secret spaces and seldom revealed in their entirety. Sadly, I’m coming to understand that pain will find you regardless. People will let you down and inflict pain. Life will humble you and then some. And sometimes, revealing your journey can let others know that they’re not alone. Because I do know one thing for sure—so many people are in a similar place right now, doing their best with what they have, no matter how hard it may be.
I don’t have all the answers at this moment. I find myself in a phase where it’s one day at a time, perhaps even one hour at a time, in terms of my sobriety. But what I do know is that I’ll find a way through this. I don’t know how or when, but I trust in a greater plan, in God’s plan. For now, that’s enough for me.
The Musings of a Wandering Mind 