I’m almost a year sober and a guy I’ve just met at an NA meeting invites me to coffee. He has five years and he reminds me of one of my favorite people back in my home city. He beats me to the coffee shop and orders water. He suggests going to a nearby park and like somebody who doesn’t know better I get in his car. We get out and walk around a little. He sits on a bench and pulls me onto his lap. I don’t like it but I let him. We return to the car and get in and start kissing pretty rough pretty fast and he pushes my head down. I resist. He calls me a slut like it’s part of the game and pushes my head down harder.
I’m just over one year sober and I steal from Walgreen’s even though I purchase several other items. I haven’t shoplifted for years but the lipstick fits so perfectly in my hand and I realize I can so I do. The next day I return to Walgreen’s and tell them I accidentally left with an item I didn’t pay for so I purchase some new items and have them charge me twice. When I tell my sponsor, she tells me not to make any more amends without talking to her. I’m only on step four (resentment inventory, sex inventory, fears). Amends are on step nine. The steps are in order for a reason.
My numbing agents of choice are no longer available to me, so the feels keep coming back, even now, more than two years into sobriety. I get stood up a second time for a Tinder date with a normie and I lay on my bed feeling sick to my stomach and I might be having a panic attack. I cry and tell myself it’s okay, people hurt sometimes. Another day I suffer from a rage attack, some inconsequential happening sets me off and then there I am beating the steering wheel and screaming motherfucker in my car.
On the outside I am two-and-a-half years sober and I am stable and calm and fun and I sponsor other women and lead them through the twelve steps. I have my own apartment and a job and my kids are back in my life. I’ve gone from almost losing custody to splitting them 50/50. Some would call it a miracle, a god-shot. I have a hard time calling things that but I know what people mean when they say it and I’m starting to believe in it.
Before I got sober and the meds started mostly working, I’d slam my head into walls sometimes, punch myself in the face. Back into a corner and hyperventilate. I’d drink until I blacked out, just like I had since age 12. I’d mix my drinks with my meds. I’d swear to stop drinking then drink harder. I made plans to do bad things and wrote them down. I scared myself. I cut myself. I scared my kids.
There are times now when I dance alone with complete abandon. I hula hoop to dirty rap in my undies with the blinds open. I take my sponsor’s advice to “date yourself” and put on lingerie under a cute dress for no reason and color my eyelids and carefully apply the reddest lipstick and go nowhere.
There are times when I properly care for myself. I take a shower and prepare food that doesn’t come out of a package from the freezer. I journal. I stretch. I call someone I love.
When my family was still together, I used to stay up late on Xmas to wrap presents and stuff stockings and make everything as magical as possible for the kids. I used to perform random acts of kindness and not tell anybody about them. I used to vape weed right before I picked the kids up from school and soon thereafter. I used to wait to do chores until just before my husband came home so maybe he would notice.
Most of the time, when nobody’s looking, I curl up on the couch under a heavy blanket with my phone and a (nicotine) vape. I do everyday things like feeding the hamster and putting furniture together and watching TV. I do recovery things like going to meetings and doing step-work and talking to my sponsor and sponsees. I work my program. I say my prayers, take my meds. I’m more normal than I’ve ever been and it’s boring sometimes but I’m safe. For the first time in a long time I am safe.
Walk around feeling like a leaf. I know that I can tumble any second. –Naomi Shihab Nye
LOCK IT DOWN 