five.

September 11, 2017

During my second marriage I think I had six months of sobriety, and only started drinking again when my wife told me to. (I tell that story a lot, not out of malice, but out of amazement.) I was thrilled to start drinking again…and kind of aware that it was a bad decision. The first of many that followed, although really just one of many more.

The truth is, I don’t know if it was six months or three months or something in between. So much has happened in the time between then and now and I honestly remember so much less from that time than I probably should – not just because I drank a lot in the interim, but because so much of that is just not important to me anymore. When you abandon your resentments and fears and work at being a more useful and better person, so many truly trivial and pointless things fall away like cold fall rain pounding and pouring and sliding down the windows of your heart.

I had the opportunity this past week to think back really thoroughly on the last year, and the better my life becomes, the more true it is that I neither regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. I am grateful for the heartbreak, the tears, the longing, the doors slammed shut, and the hard vivid void left when all that remains is the quiet voice that says “don’t give up.” I could cry over all I’ve been through, but I’m not sad anymore. I’m not even wistful for the past I wanted to be different. I’m just glad to be here, in all the imperfect glory of right now.