Stop the wagon, I'm getting off.

I've decided to drink.

I don't think it's a relapse. It's not a matter of "OMG life sucks I can't take it I need a drink!" I don't NEED a drink. Hell, I don't even want one right now.

What I want is certainty.

I wasn't what they call a "low-bottom drunk" when I quit. I didn't lose a job, or a spouse, or get sent to rehab.

I quit drinking because I could not picture my life without alcohol. This is no longer so. I haven't had a drink in ten months. I can do it.

But do I have to? I grow weary of being the only sober person at the party. Of the sheepish looks and awkward silences that follow harmless slips of the tongue from normal drinkers. If that's the way it has to be, then so be it. But what if that ISN'T the way it has to be?

I had a very bad year last year. No support system, no healthy coping mechanisms, no belief in myself or my future. I knew I was out of control, I just didn't care.

I'm not that girl anymore. I know who I am, and more importantly, who I want to be. I want to continue to grow as a person, to keep strengthening my relationship with God, to work toward my as-yet-undiscovered Personal Legend.

And I can no longer say with any degree of certainty that I must abstain from alcohol to do that. I can no longer say "I'm an alcoholic" and know it's true.

The Big Book says, if you're not sure you're an alcoholic, try some controlled drinking. So, that's what I intend to do. I'm not running back to the bottle or anything. But, the next time I'm in a social drinking situation, if I feel like it, I'll have a drink. My sponsor is on board. He says that the fact that I decided yesterday morning to try again, yet I haven't had a drink yet, is a good sign. He will be there for me whether I succeed or fail, and he will love me no matter what.

Maybe I'll discover that I CAN be a social drinker; that I'm not an alcoholic, I was just lost. Or, maybe I'll discover that I still can't have just one, that when I take that first drink I still lose all control. If so, then I'll go back to AA. But at least I'll know for sure.

She's having my baby.

Stand down, I'm not really having a baby. But, I've been sober for nine months as of last Sunday. It feels at once like a long time and no time at all. I'm proud, I'm grateful, I'm acutely aware of how far I've yet to go.

I feel good about a lot of things, though. I'm a good person with a good heart. I'm genuine, compassionate, and tender. I'm learning to recognize and rectify the things I do that don't serve me well. I'm working on not taking responsibility for the people around me, on focusing my energy on things within my control.

Someone very dear to me relapsed last night. Not just relapsed, but "gave up on recovery" altogether. It breaks my heart. But I can't do anything about it. He's just not ready yet. All I can do is pray that someday he will be.

Whenever someone falls off the wagon, we say "They just haven't hit that bottom yet." It terrifies me. Have *I* hit that bottom? I was pretty lucky compared to a lot of people.

I know next time, I might not be so lucky. I know I don't want to find out. I know I don't want to go back out there, don't want to lose the things I've gained in recovery, don't want to go back to being that girl again. And I don't have to, so long as I keep working, keep praying, keep going to meetings. It's my choice.

Half Measures: Availing Me Nothing since 9/2010

One of the first things I learned in AA was "The only thing you have to change is everything." So I quit drinking, dropped some old friends, made some new ones, started focusing more on my relationship with God, started working the steps, started emphasizing acceptance...

But what did I really change?

Monday night I got into a heated debate with a fellow addict. I declared and explained my beliefs. Then I started questioning them. I knew WHAT I believed, but why did I believe it? Because it's right? Because it's convenient? Because I've been twisted by bad experiences?

I went to my sponsor and explained what I was feeling, and he ordered me to conduct a thirty-day experiment. I balked. "But that goes against who I am!"

That's when it hit me. How am I supposed to grow and change if I'm holding on to who I've always been? Who I am is a drunk. That's why I joined AA. But I've been trying to work the program while still being the same girl I've always been. And that won't work.

"Some of us have tried to hold on to our old ideas and the result was nil until we let go absolutely." I've heard that HUNDREDS of times and somehow I just never got it.

No more half measures. I'm going to stop justifying my behavior with "This is who I am!" I'm going to start trying new approaches to life and forming new beliefs.

For the record, I pretty much have no clue what I'm doing. But no idea is better than the wrong idea, right?

Lucky Number Seven.

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.

Alchemy, sorcery, and everyday magic.

Okay, so I can't quite turn lead into gold, control the weather, or transform into an animal. But then, I never tried to do any of those things.

I can, however, extract joy from darkness, spread sunshine on the dullest day, and find contentment in the simplest pleasures.

I can hear the wind sing of my loveliness. I can look at a coin and see a rose. I can find God in the strangest places.

I can't see the future, but I'm learning to stop looking. No good will ever come from wasting today worrying about a tomorrow that's 48 hours from being yesterday.

I can spend each moment at work on my heart, so that when I arrive at my unforseen destination, I will be ready for it.

And I can thank God that my destiny isn't limited to the scope of my finite mind.

It feels like a win to me.

I want a drink.

The craving hit around 6:30 this morning. I asked my body "When did you EVER get booze before 7 AM???" (Ridiculous sidenote: I've started talking to myself in a British accent. Just for the lulz.)

Honestly? It doesn't bother me. "This too shall pass." I know damn well I'm not gonna drink. It's not as if I ever believed that the cravings would go away entirely. The important thing is that it's not gonna beat me.

Sometimes I hurt, sometimes I cry, sometimes I lose my way at night, sometimes I stumble, sometimes I fall, but I'm never gonna throw away it all.

Everybody's got something to hide except for me and my monkey.

I'm grounded.

* No dating.
* No staying out past 11 PM.
* No going out without telling Michelle where I'll be and with whom.
* Attend at least once a week a church of my choosing.

In addition to the groundation, I have an assignment. When Michelle was a little girl, her mother took a little notepad and wrote down all the prayers and Bible verses she felt a little girl needed to know as she grew up. So Michelle bought me a lovely new notebook, and handed me the notepad from her mother, and instructed me to copy those prayers and verses into my own notebook. (As an aside, the friend that I wrote about in my earliest entries, the dear woman who passed away on Father's Day, was Michelle's mother.) I can't articulate how deeply this has touched my heart.

In my early days of sobriety, I would wake with a feeling of serenity. Sometimes it would be gone within the hour, other times it would last the day. Now, I wake with my heart disquiet. I start the morning with an empty glass, and it is up to me to fill it with serenity as I move through my day. This is a better way; complacency did me no favors.

Today is four months sober for me. My first birthday that I don't get to celebrate in a meeting (after 3 months you have to wait for 6) and I'm relieved it's so. I couldn't celebrate there now. Not yet. Not while I'm so acutely feeling someone's absence.

So many people know the first verse of the Serenity Prayer, but the second verse is so important, so here's the whole enchilada.

"God, grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change,the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time, accepting hardship as the pathway to peace. Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it. Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His will. That I may be reasonably happy in this life, and supremely happy with Him forever in the next."

Amen.

Happy, joyous, and free.

90 days sober today!

I am overwhelmed with blessings.

So many friends who fill my life with joy, love, and laughter.
An amazing roommate who helps me almost daily with my faith.
A patient and loving Father who is all too happy to manage the life I failed so spectacular at managing myself.
A good job with some of the finest people I have ever known.
An incredible family, and we'll all be together again within a year!

For the first time in my life, I know that no matter what happens, I will be okay, so long as I trust myself to God's care.

"This is a day I'll feel good to be me."

Sixty days sober!

Happy 60 day sobriety birthday to me!

Let me just say this:

The first thirty days were, with a few notable exceptions, mostly sunshine and bunnies.

The second thirty days were, with a few notable exceptions, a real bitch.

But here's me, feeling better than ever. How naive of me to think it would always be easy! What worth having is ever easy? I have learned to trust God - because no matter how bad things have gotten, haven't they always been okay in the end? I'm a fighter, always have been. No matter how tough this gets, I can be tougher.

When you can't run, you crawl. And when you can't do that, you find someone to carry you.

Thank God for my friends, who carry me when I can't find the strength to run. I love you guys.

The crap dance.

I recently read this on Simon Pegg's twitter:
"After Minnie's morning poop, she does this "burying it" dance with her back legs. I'm stood there with a bag, all like, 'I got this, dude.'"

And I realized that pretty much sums up my relationship with God.

All the kicking and dancing and struggling I do to deal with my shit is just me getting in God's way, and He's waiting there to take care of it.

And that's how I finished my third step on my 30 day birthday.

Which is good, because my sponsor wants me through four and five before I leave for Thanksgiving. Eep! But, by the grace of God, it shall be done.

The best laid plans...well, you know.

I've actually been avoiding this place because I was supposed to blog about PAX and I haven't. I still will. I have a ton of great memories from the trip that I both want to share and to get down in text. But there's something else to talk about first.

My name is Jacki and I'm an alcoholic.

People have been on me about my drinking to various degrees for some time now. I'm blessed to have a friend in the program in Detroit. One day he told me "Call me when you hit step one." I had to google that.

One night I was at the bar - drunk - and texting with my best friend. He said "We're gonna have a talk tomorrow, missy." I insisted that we go ahead and talk, and he told me I drink too much (among other things). And since everything seems so simple when I'm drunk, I said "Okay, I'll quit drinking!"

When I sobered up, I discovered something horrifying. I discovered I literally CANNOT picture my life without alcohol. I contacted my friend in Detroit. I said "My life has become unmanageable." He found meetings for me.

I've been sober for 13 days today. I've been to a meeting every night for a week. I feel so blessed that this program exists. Every night I get to have my hope, faith, and strength renewed, I get to learn, I get to spend an hour or so with people who genuinely care about my struggle because it is also theirs, and they are helping me the way others helped them, the way I will someday help others.

I don't really know who I am without alcohol. But I'm excited to find out. And I know that whoever I am is better than who I had become.