A couple of days ago, I was told (by good authority) that I have lost my edge. Apparently, I come off like a beacon of sobriety now. A happy-chappy who might actually be delighted I became a drunk and spent all my money on private plane rides and knickknacks. It seems like I’ve found the error in my overstuffed ego, the cruelty in my slurred slights.

What happened to those “fun” stories of hangovers so severe they felt like sharp knives? Memories dredged up like the congealed awful at the bottom of a septic tank? Why all the wildflowers and sunrises of late?

I’ve been thinking about this ever since.

It is true I got sober and reinvented myself like Madonna in a cowboy hat. Also true that I didn’t kill anyone, go to jail or lose the love of my children while I was in my cups. So, I am grateful. I have a wonderful job now. And I am responsible for my actions and my words… I am no longer a limp-limbed Candide, expecting “the best of all possible worlds”.

I’ve Even Learned to Use Subheadings for Emphasis…

That is not to say I’m delighted. Not to say I’m even “okay” all the time. In fact I am going through a decidedly ungrateful funk at the moment. I want to shout to the heavens, “So when exactly does life get easy again? When do I get to hang out on big boats, deciding whether to fish or swim? Other people behave like assholes, without suffering the consequences I have endured. Enough is enough!”

Does that sound like the prayers of a latter-day soul survivor? Can I kayak myself out of these blues? Hike to the pinnacle and lift my arms in revelation? What would Jesus do?

I have stopped telling campfire yarns about the days of wine and vomit, I suppose. And those were pretty hilarious. But aren’t I in a new phase? Looking forward into a bright pink cloud?

I read somewhere that it’s egocentric to say, “I’m humble”. Perhaps then, it is reckless to say, “I’m sober.” The truth is, my sobriety is not a beacon. It’s more like a flashlight with a short in the wiring. Often the light is bright. But occasionally it nods off and I am left squinting in the dark or tapping a table blindly for my reading glasses…

I Have Suffered Enough…

But every day I hear from people who are struggling with their addictions. They ask for my advice. So when I want to dampen the page with my tears or the spit of my anger, I think twice.

I am glad that you called me on my shit, my friend. I am glad you told me I am losing myself. Because I have been feeling sad lately, and your words forced me to think this through. I believe I am at a crossroads. And despite kind words to the contrary, I am my addiction. It has changed my life forever. And as you pointed out so well, it has changed me for the better.

Recovery is a journey. Perhaps I am quelling the residual resentments with lighter tales of goldenrod in dappled fields. Maybe it’s because I want to forget the ugliest parts of my addiction.

Luckily I wrote it all down. And yes Kim, I should be working on the book…

All Artwork by Stacey Matchett – Featured art is called “Head Room”