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| Mondays before... |
I had forgotten what it’s like not to dread my days. To wake up not loathing the hours ahead of me. To realize that I’m actually, really and truly free is still a new thing. I’m a month into this “retirement” thing, and it still hasn’t fully sunk in: I am free.
My days are my own. My time is my own. My life is finally my own.
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| Mondays now! |
It always has been, of course, let’s please not pretend mine has been a tragic tale. It hasn’t been. I’ve always had the skills, baby. I always had the option of walking away from bad situations, and I did, more than once. But as in any life, some tough choices have been necessary. Deals have been struck. There have been commitments made, obligations to fill, certain protocols of professional society to be followed.
I don’ t need to negotiate these things anymore. I saved up enough to buy out my own contract. I hold my own papers now, thank you. I’ve emancipated.
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| Not Club Med. |
This morning I’m off to "The Club" for the 10 o’clock AA meeting. Ain’t gonna lie, I have a lifelong love/hate thing going on with AA. If I have to listen to one more true believer state that Jeezus is the one, the only path to lasting sobriety, I think I’ll scream. Honestly, it’s the same smug, religious arrogance I grew up with, the certainty, the conviction of their divine rightness that just makes me want to strangle some people.
But what I like about this group is that they don’t spend an inordinate amount of time reading from the sacred writings of Bill Wilson from the Big Book, but instead open it up right away to sharing. I appreciate this very much, because I’ve been in too many of these rooms where all they do is chant slogans (“Let go and let God!”) and take turns reading from the book.
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| When shit gets real |
But it’s here, in these moments where people drop their guard and open up about what they’re going through, that I find healing. I am an atheist, a nonbeliever in magical beings. When they tell me I must turn it over to God, must believe in some magical higher being or energy or thing, I point out to that they are my higher power. This conversation, this interaction, this sharing is my higher power. It’s why I go to these fucking meetings — not to read from your bible, but to hear your story. To know there are others who “get it.” To be reminded that I am not alone with this thing called addiction.
I don’t need their slogans, their steps, their gods. But (and make of this what you will) I somehow do need them. I am 20 months sober, the longest I’ve ever stayed sober as an adult, and I am never going back to that nightmare.
I don't need to use alcohol anymore.
Freedom? I'll tell you what freedom is: Freedom's just another word for nuthin' left to lose use.
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| Probably not Coke bottles. |
I have a ton of “ancient roman glass” beads to string up, not sure why I’ve gone so crazy for those lately. I say “ancient” in quotes because while it’s true, i
t is glass that’s been excavated from beneath the city of Rome, it’s questionable how ancient some of it is. True, it could literally be older than Jesus. It could also just be crushed Coke bottles.
Either way, it’s pretty to look at, and we can all pretend we’re wearing something special. Right now I’m playing around with different colored spacers and tiny sparkles, but I’m leery of making it look cheap. The roman glass has a nice matte patina to it, and I tried some different pizzazz-y accents, but I find that these make the final piece look too costume-y. I’m probably going to keep them very simple and rugged and true.
The glass, whatever its true origin, is beautiful.
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