Thursday, September 17, 2015

Throw Back Thursday: It

As I read through the blogs in the last week, I tried to remember when I knew that "this time was the last time" so I went back to read my posts four years ago when I decided that I was DONE!

Here is the post I wrote the day after I declared that I was no longer going to try to moderate.  I relapsed once after that, but that's a whole 'nother fucked up story.


Day 12
Someone on the Moderation Management List asked me to write more about why I decided to permanently abs instead of continuing to try my hand at moderating. I've been putting off writing this blog all morning because the commitment I made yesterday still scares me and I have moments where I wish I could take it back and because the reasons are so many and some of them are so hard to put into words. But I'll try. Here goes.
It just doesn't make any sense anymore. As I said on the WFS (Women for Sobriety) message board yesterday. I'm a smart woman but I have continued to let alcohol fool me. "It's" good at it. For a long time, "it" masqueraded as my best friend. "It" was always there when I need "It". If I was lonely, "It" kept me company. If I was sad, "It" made me laugh. When I felt awkward, "It" gave me confidence and when I doubted myself, "It" reassured me. When I was afraid, "It" gave me courage. "It" was there through the good and the bad times. 
Then "It" turned on me. "It" made me lonely. "It "made me sad. " It" made me awkward. "It" made me doubt myself. "It" made me afraid. "It" physically and emotionally abused me. But like the abusive spouse to which "It" is often compared, "It" kept drawing me back with the promise that "It" would stop hurting me and it would be good between us again. "It" never lived up to its promise. The abuse got worse and "It" told me I couldn't live without "It", that nobody wanted me or liked me without "It". I found out "It" was wrong. I opened the door to the prison in which "It" held me and saw another world out there waiting for me. I got brave enough to step outside a time or two but something would always scare me, or make me sad, or lonely, or unsure, or sad and I would run back inside to "It". But it was too late. I'd had a glimpse of that other world I wanted to see more of it. I kept sneaking through the door and I started going further and further. I still got sad, and scared, and lonely and unsure but not as much  as when I lived with "It". I found out that others still liked me and wanted me and I started liking myself again. When I used to be in one of my recovery modes, half of me praying that I didn't die and the other half hoping that I would, my husband would say, "I want my wife back." I want her back too. So I've closed the door and I've left my key behind. It's time to move.

When I was driving around this morning trying to pinpoint the main reason that I feel this time is "the time" for me my Co-Writer nudged me and said,

"I have a purpose for you and it sure as hell isn't living your life as a drunk."

I started crying and I knew that was the main reason that I'm not going to risk my life again.

So today I'm out there doing my best to fulfill my purpose and live up to my potential.


  1. Replies
    1. Still trying to find that purpose but I'm happy in the search.

  2. Replies
    1. Thank you, dear. So do you. They're still discussing your post about the hole in the street on the message boards. Someone on the moderation board asked where the street without the hole was, I told her, It's on Permanent Abstinence Street.

  3. Funny, we must all be on the same page at the moment - I found myself musing about where I was a year ago, still promising myself that I would be "better" and "in control"....and each time finding that the hole was a little deeper and harder to climb out of. These days, I am not just avoiding the hole or walking down a different street - I'm in a whole other town!

  4. Sober Town! Where there are no potholes or slippery sidewalks and happy hour isn't just one measly hour of the day.

  5. Good choice, Kary. And even better you're still making it. A day at a time. xo

  6. There is this funny thing about me: I know there is a beautiful world out there awaiting for me. I see it. I dream about it. And yet it is still out of reach. One day, one day... I will get to live there...I keep repeating to myself.
    Beautiful post, Kary.