I don't believe in luck, or coincidence, or accidents - aside from the kind like I had yesterday when I hit myself in the head with my car door. So the fact that today marks seven months sober isn't particularly auspicious, aside from the sense of accomplishment that comes with knowing I made it another month.
And it hasn't been a good one, in terms of my sobriety. It's not just the depression, or the near-relapse. It's just the voice in my head, louder and more constant than ever. The voice that insists that I'm NOT an alcoholic, I just had a bad year last year. The voice that assures me that I can drink again, that it won't hurt anything, and wouldn't it be nice to have a break for a little while, to not have to think or feel so much? My addiction and my depression are forming an alliance and the battle is exhausting. But I'm protected by the love and support of my friends and my faith in God, so I know I'll survive.
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