Blessings swirled and danced and wove themselves through the lives of my capable friends, but seemed so unattainable, amends unavailable, to me and my sick intents.
Most days were spent in a thick, foggy haze, plagued with the side effects from alcoholic ways.
Ever drained from manufactured chaos.
Long nights with short payoffs.
And I was cocooned, bound and corrupt, drowning in my poisoned cups.
Doomed to combust.
Further fast-tracking my funeral once I discovered the stronger drugs.
But one day, BAM, a clarity!
A lightening bolt of serenity.
It just hit me – this mystery – a jolt to rewrite my history.
A new journey to heal after a decade of trouble and tragedy.
I could really feel.
This was a miracle I was too long scared to acquiesce; that is until I became more scared of impending, ultimate death.
I had found my hope and I wanted to really live, not just cope.
But I harbored so much jealousy and envy, it pooled and boiled within me, resentments lengthy. I was bitter at social media posts, vacations and dinner toasts, and those who were joyful and friendly I saw as an enemy – such a manic psyche in frenzy, anger too plenty.
So I took a personal inventory, being fearless and thorough as a moral explorer remembering to not rest on my laurels marching forward with decorum.
Apologies were spoken, forgiveness was given, and something that was broken within me now awoken, a new beginning.
I couldn’t believe all this emotion, the cosmos burst open for me to be free to see reality, breathing sober breaths.
Many people helped pull me up and out from Hell’s deep despair depths to where I could be content simply living in the present.
The cliche’s like, “poor me, poor me, pour me another,” I’d discover, were just one of the many clever motivators to help me recover.
In time I would find on this brighter side that if I did what was advised and followed my spirit guides and applied principles learned and tried to purge the pain, then blessings would emerge and inspiration would surge to unlearn a lifetime of my survival skills that no longer served.
What was once inconceivable, an existence so unbelievable, finally made achievable, and with a lot of effort and belief I processed my trauma and grief.
I entered into a new season of mind, something divine, one of intentional design after the old me died.
And happiness and sobriety were not just a naïve fantasy, but an actual goal I could and did achieve.
Today I can say I’m proud of who I became without shame or blame and reframe my past as a gift I purely needed to unpack.
I’m thankful for the positive impact that negative experiences can refract back.
I no longer lack or feel trapped or need to distract from life’s ebb and flow because I know no matter what I undergo, even a heavy blow that can knock me low, will only bestow lessons through which I get to grow.
This meaningful life, once a dream, is now a very real thing, and at the center of my world, with clenched fists unfurled, I embrace all the love that I’ve always deserved.