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Early on in my sobriety, I had a random—but brain-exploding—thought. I was 32 years old, and for the first time in my adult life, I was living without drugs and alcohol. By that, I mean, I was trying to be a husband and a dad and a son and an employee and neighbor and a responsible bill-paying consumer for the first time without being under the influence.
That hit me hard, because life on life’s terms is hard for anybody. But for a newcomer like me, it was my first time doing basic adult things, even though I was in a 32-year-old’s body. It reminded me of the movie Big, where Tom Hanks is a kid in a man’s body, trying to figure out how to find a place to live, pay the rent, fill out forms to get a job, manage a paycheck, be respectful in the workplace… all things you assume an adult would know because he is in a grown-ass man’s body.
And one story from my early days of recovery stands out as an example of how overwhelming that can be. Here goes:
When I had about a month sober, I was lying on the couch one Saturday morning watching TV. My 1-year-old daughter walked up to me and stood right in front of my face with a bowl of blueberries.
“Dad, do you know who likes blueberries?”
“Who?” I asked.
“Me,” she said, and she dropped two blueberries in her mouth, kept eye contact and just walked away from me, like Keyser F*****g Sose.
I chuckled a little bit at the randomness of the whole interaction, and then I started laughing, and then I started crying, and then I started REALLY laughing. I turned into such a big gooey puddle of emotions on the couch that I had to sit up, at which point I started to cough.
My wife was in the kitchen and heard what sounded like I was having some sort of meltdown. Because I kind of was having a meltdown. Since I’d been sober, I hadn’t had that sort of hurricane of emotions, and it was hard to handle.
I called my sponsor later that morning and told him the story, and I asked him, “What happened to me?”
He started laughing on the other end of the phone. “Well, that’s what’s known as feelings,” he said. “Those are things you used to numb yourself out about but now you have to actually sit with.”
I understood what he was saying. In my drinking days, I definitely felt mad, and sad, and everything in between. But I never really, truly processed anything. There were things that I would get mad about, drink over, wake up mad again, pop some pills to deaden the aggravation, wake up and remember I was mad again… over and over again. I never felt stuff, processed it and moved on. I just stuffed it in the basement and let it fester.
I’m so glad I don’t have to live like that any more. I definitely am still pretty good at whipping up a resentment from scratch (see: My Epic “Wiener” misunderstanding). There are so many minor incidents that I used to turn into an invitation for war but now they pop up, go through my digestive system and are gone in 20 minutes, no big deal. What a gift that is.
And guess what? I have a real soft spot in my heart for blueberries to this day!
ALCOHOLIC/ADDICT JOKE OF THE DAY
This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke.
A police officer sees an erratic drunk driver plowing down the street, pulls her over, and gets out to investigate. Approaching the car, he notices that it has a flat tire.
“Did you know that one of your tires is flat?” the cop asks.
“Naw,” says the drunk behind the wheel. “The other three are just swollen.”
(Credit: AA Grapevine, October 2003, Bob S. from East Hartford, Connecticut)
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