Gratitude

Having spent the last week surrounded by family, love and sunshine, I can’t help but be overwhelmed with gratitude. Spending fives days in Florida with my sister and her amazing little family was such an incredible gift and I cannot thank her or my father enough for the time we just spent together.

It was especially amazing for me to be there and be present with my sister and nephews because I know how lucky I am to still be in their lives. My sister is my best friend and has been my biggest champion since the day I was born. Seven years older, she’s always taken care of me. And I have not made that an easy task. Meredith has never given up on me, which absolutely unbelievable, because over the course of my life I’ve put her through more than any sibling should have to endure.

Even sitting here, thinking through the way the progression of my disease has coincided with the major milestones of Meredith’s life, I’m afraid to publish out of fear a close examination of my wrongs over the past decade will make her realize that she didn’t have to put up with any of this shit and walk away.

But when I texted her this morning to ask if she was okay with me sharing photos from the trip and a post about how grateful I am to still have her in my life, she responded with nothing but love and support.

Like I said, I’m beyond grateful my sister is still in my life and I love her more than anything.

Yesterday she sent me these picture of me holding her baby and I actually started crying.

They stand in such stark contrast to the first time I ever held her oldest son back in 2017.

When this photo was taken, I was afraid to hold Logan standing up. The involuntary spasms in my legs and hands had taken on a life of their own by then, and I could feel the tremors moving through me even as I sat there holding him. No moving, at least on purpose. It was safer to just have him placed carefully in my lap the way they’d done while introducing him to his older cousins. I needed the same precautions in place as the four and six year old girls who had been to visit him a few days prior.

I hate thinking back to that, because the idea of putting that sweet, amazing little boy into anything but competent hands sickens me today. I had a moment a few days ago when I thought about how much I love that little human. I’d give my life for him in a heart beat.

I love that little man and the fact that I ever put anything, let alone my drinking, before him is something I have to face everyday. And it is not easy to live with.

The piece I struggled with all day comes from one of those first visits to meet Lo back in 2017. It’s hard, not just because I took the week off from writing and am rusty, but because finding the words to describe those early days when I first had to admit my alcoholism is painful. Reflecting on the moments of joy I stole from my family at that period of time, one that should have been nothing but the celebration that incredible little man are regrets that still haunt me.

Sometime between the hours of writing, retooling, and procrastination I spent yesterday, it occurred to me that the weight of those regrets was the source of my writers block. My recovery program is about progress, not perfection, and I am clearly still in the progress part. I can’t force myself to sit down and write out something so complex and heartbreaking in one day and expect to be at peace with it.

Here it is important for me to stop and remember the basics. One of the many, many incredible things about the 12-Step Program I’m in is that it does offer a path to addressing all those who were harmed by your drinking.

What’s critical about that path is that it is done in a very specific manner and for good reason. There’s a lot of work that needs to be done before you can right the wrongs of your past. I understand that now from the place in my sobriety where I stand now. I just happened to forget it yesterday when I tried to write through years of family heartache over the course of a day.

I thank God today that I have a program of recovery that helps me deal with those shadows and big feelings. It helped me close my laptop last night and accept the fact that I would not be able to neatly tie a bow on those years of regret and the shame I still carry. And that it’s okay. Even more, I think it’s important to honestly share that, because sharing where I’m at is a critical part of my recovery. So here I am.

What follows is as far as I got, and honestly I didn’t get far.

Waking up with the Florida sun streaming in from the floor to ceiling windows, initially I had no awareness of how much had gone awry. I was comfortable, in the puffy hotel bed and content to be waking up warm and safe despite not quite remembering how I’d gotten here. Then my eyes adjusted, my body registered, and the reality of the moment set in.

Everything hurt. From my head to my skin to my heart, it all screamed in agony. My Dad sat stoically at my bedside in the chair by the window. Awake, but somehow dead inside, in a state of concern and exhaustion I’d never seen before. I felt my face, bruised, swollen and tender to the touch. My head pounded.

“Dad,” I said weakly.

“Amanda,” he responded, tiredly; “we need to talk about how much you’ve been drinking.”

Prior to that day in January of 2018, I thought I had successfully hidden my drinking from the world. That’s the thing about alcoholism, you think you are fooling everyone, when in reality the only one you are fooling is yourself.

Why am I sharing this fragment? Because recently I shared this story with one of my favorite sober Instagram accounts and it is going to be published today. I encourage you to follow @ALifeRecovered on Instagram so that you can see it when it comes out.

It was a difficult decision to share the before picture from my active addiction, but I thought it was important to share just how bad things got for me and how far I’ve come.

The photo from my active addiction that I decided to use is from one of those first visits to meet Logan back in 2017. It comes from the day when I first had to face the reality of my alcoholism.

I’m nervous and excited to share it, which I actually wrote an entirely separate blog piece on, but for now I’ll come back to gratitude.

Today, the photos from my visit are an entirely different world and a different life.

I could not be more grateful for it. '