The moment came quicker than I thought. I'd imagine it would take much longer--that it would drag on and on, but instead, I find myself six days shy from the anniversary that will define the rest of my life. This year marks a very special date on the calendar for me. The eight of July will be the second year my sobriety comes full circle once again. The moment I had decided to quit drinking forever, that moment felt like the start of the toughest road I would travel on. All I could imagine was the drinks, the liquid being poured, the parties, the laughs, the jokes, and of course, the feeling of letting loose.
So I quit. I stopped drinking all together. No specific drink, just anything that contained the smallest drop of alcohol. I wanted nothing to do with it. Nothing. And the sole mention of the word would instigate anger burning inside me, the thought of repeating the mistake would become tied to the word, I would put those two together to convince myself it would be the easy way. If I hated it, I wouldn't need it. I wouldn't crave it.
The devil in the bottle. The temptation. That familiar taste I had come to love. Creeping out, staring at me with those eyes.
I remember the first time I drank, how wasted I became. I remember the first time I blacked out. The first time I got in trouble. The first time it became tolerable. Then how it became used to my palate, and how I became used to its taste.
My partner in crime, my escape route, my heavy listener, my conversation opener.
I remember how it made me feel invincible, I remember how it made me feel approachable.
I also realize that a lot of things that I don't remember are because of it.
I made myself the promise of the century two years ago. I promised myself that I would never enter a situation like the one I was in that day ever again. That I would never allow myself to fall that low. That I would never again convince myself that I was more than human, incapable of impossible odds. That I would give it up, put the bottle down, and say my goodbyes to it.
So I did.
Not one drop.
And now the date comes back to me once again. Full circle.
And memories flood me and I start remembering. But what it's important I remember is not what I forgot that night, but what new memories I create this coming night. When I celebrate my freedom from the bottle. When I celebrate that I don't need it. That I can look at it and laugh.
I never needed it to begin with, I just chose it and it became part of who I was. To the point that it was all that I was.
I'm good. I'm good now. Hell, I'm better.
And I don't need to run from it anymore. I don't need to laugh at it. I don't need to curse it.
I can choose to embrace it once again, but here's the thing. I don't need it. I never did.
And I never will.
So I quit. I stopped drinking all together. No specific drink, just anything that contained the smallest drop of alcohol. I wanted nothing to do with it. Nothing. And the sole mention of the word would instigate anger burning inside me, the thought of repeating the mistake would become tied to the word, I would put those two together to convince myself it would be the easy way. If I hated it, I wouldn't need it. I wouldn't crave it.
The devil in the bottle. The temptation. That familiar taste I had come to love. Creeping out, staring at me with those eyes.
I remember the first time I drank, how wasted I became. I remember the first time I blacked out. The first time I got in trouble. The first time it became tolerable. Then how it became used to my palate, and how I became used to its taste.
My partner in crime, my escape route, my heavy listener, my conversation opener.
I remember how it made me feel invincible, I remember how it made me feel approachable.
I also realize that a lot of things that I don't remember are because of it.
I made myself the promise of the century two years ago. I promised myself that I would never enter a situation like the one I was in that day ever again. That I would never allow myself to fall that low. That I would never again convince myself that I was more than human, incapable of impossible odds. That I would give it up, put the bottle down, and say my goodbyes to it.
So I did.
Not one drop.
And now the date comes back to me once again. Full circle.
And memories flood me and I start remembering. But what it's important I remember is not what I forgot that night, but what new memories I create this coming night. When I celebrate my freedom from the bottle. When I celebrate that I don't need it. That I can look at it and laugh.
I never needed it to begin with, I just chose it and it became part of who I was. To the point that it was all that I was.
I'm good. I'm good now. Hell, I'm better.
And I don't need to run from it anymore. I don't need to laugh at it. I don't need to curse it.
I can choose to embrace it once again, but here's the thing. I don't need it. I never did.
And I never will.
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