Four Months Sober, And Miserable?

I was rummaging through some old papers and found a journal I wrote in during my first year of sobriety. What a gift it was to find! This entry was from September. I was four months sober.

“One day at a time” * “Easy does it” * “Keep it simple” * “Don’t leave until the miracle occurs.”

Rushing thoughts through my mind. What do I do with the shit that I feel? Sobriety feeling like a game of Russian Roulette; one false move, triggered, dead.  I walk through life with Band-Aids over my eyes, nothing seen, nothing real, nothing hurts. “No pain, No gain.”

I wipe the tears from my eyes for others now, trying desperately not to cry my own. What did I think I was doing? Running from the inevitable? Jails, institutions, and death to look forward to; “yets” to be discovered, to be continued.

Feeling like shit, looking marvelous. WHY? Acting out, feeling lost, someone pinch me.

If life is what we make it, I chose Hell overall. I chose darkness over light every time.

WHERE IS THE FUCKING MIRACLE???

I’m drowning. Someone help me, I’m drowning! It’s getting harder to breathe and I’m suffocating! I can’t feel anymore! I want to be numb.

I’m so fucking lost. Please help me find me, please help me search.
I know I’m around here somewhere.

I can hear myself breathing.”

I am so grateful that I found my journal, and this very entry today. I needed a fierce reminder that everything passes. That day, thirteen years ago, I had no idea how wonderful this journey could be; how amazing life could get. If I hadn’t trusted the process and stayed sober, I may not have had the opportunity to find out.

Thanks for believing in me until I could. XO