dichotomy

I wish I had a before and after picture of my life like those fad-diet ads... I don't know that a picture would capture it, but where I was and where I am are at such opposite extremes that the change really is as drastic as dropping 15 dress sizes.

As the 6th anniversary of my last drink draws near, I can't help but think back on what my life was like when the bottle was my everything. There was a time when what I remembered was peppered with swirly romanticism... when I remembered the fun, glamour, harmless insanity, relief, release, etc. of drinking.

I've done enough writing and talking and living to really accept - swallow - the reality of that time. Mostly the reality of the end of that period.

It is impossible to put into words the black hole that fills my chest when I think about how lost, how desperate, how frightened, angry, alone, full of shame, remorse, defiance, pain I was. How badly I did not want to quit drinking but how desperately I wanted to end my misery. How addicted I was to the chaos of my life, to the chase of the elusive high and how absolutely terrified of discovering who I'd be without it. Convinced that I would hate - abhor - what I uncovered.

Years into sobriety, even, I found other ways to cope. I starved myself, I disappeared, I shut down, put up walls, blamed my parents, son, lover. I still very much fancied that girl who started drinking tequila at 12, and was soon drinking almost everyday...quite the bad ass.

It wasn't until A turned 12 and I realized how fucking YOUNG 12 is, that I finally saw the tragedy in all of it. That I realized that I wasn't tough - I was scared. That I wasn't conquering the world - that I was escaping. And that I missed out on some pivotal emotion growth because I stunted it with whatever I could get my hands on.

The girl I was when I started on this journey was a small, curled up creature. I was thinking about how there was something about me that attracted predators. How that had been true all my life. I thought I had a sign that said "Previous abuse victim up for grabs." How I didn't know I could be any different, how I didn't know that some of the things that happened were not my fault. How I carried around a cloak of shame about the things that were done to me and the things I did to others. Shame for being the abused turned abuser.

Today it hit me that all those smarmy predatory people don't come near me anymore. They don't even look at me. I am stronger. My energy is deep and calm and aware. I am not a girl - I am a woman. There is deep, deep joy in my life to balance out the deep sorrow and hurt that is an inevitable part of life. I am present, available, trustworthy, unafraid. And remarkably, fallibly, wonderfully human.

I hope I never forget where I came from. It's the only way I get to stay where I am.