Reaching from under the rubble, my own stinch making me sick
Glazed over eyes, grasping at straws. Dark no light Clausterphopia setting in
Life so raw, I just wanted to be buried in my sleep. Fast asleep in the deep beneathe the earth
Should I have been surprised when He whispered my name echoing through the broken dirt
Dust breaths, “yes Lord I hear you”
His voice so distant, but yes he was there hollow his voice bouncing from the ground that encased my body
My rescuer has sought me, to take my hand to free me from the rubble, alcohol no longer my idol. A faitour it was, but the good Lord has won. Imposter slithered away
The breath I breathe today is clean, crisp, and not lacking any oxygen
In my enibraition He gave me a taste of what it was like to breathe a new breath of life, my taste buds were on fire with desire of Him
He was no longer far, he was right there at my aide. I could see again, I could taste again. It was more than good!! It was His saving grace, His face
Psalm 34:8 Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge
No not in your pockets that will not do, words from the old. Flabbergassted this was me…A glimpse into my insanity
Airliner size bottles are easier to hide, they aide in clever. If you consider misdemeanors clever. I hid all sorts of alcohol just about everywhere I could think of, beer too
Airliners slip neatly into the bottom of a shoe, if you have a slew of them no one will be onto you. Boots are even better
They also go quite nicely between the the mattress and box spring, great for the picking once everyone has kicked it for the night
I had managed with certian outfits to conceal them on my person, like anyone is willing to do any lurking
I had a slit in my purse lining barely big enough for these tiny sized swigs to slip right downside of. They lay neatly concealed under my wallet, and the other have to’s. Not a single person ever knew
I hid them in the bathroom among my makeup mess, I must confess I spent a lot of time in the bathroom
Beer cans float well at the top of a toilet bowl, and who ever looks in there unless the flapper becomes an issue, Phew
Poolside was a place I liked to get licked. I hid them in one the community bathrooms under the sink. Way back in a corner, no one ever knew. Use the bathroom, pound one down. 5 left to go. Then blitzed
This was just the normal for me, I thought nothing of it. No big deal. Everything was secret, and hidden. I was a very driven alcoholic, it was always there. I was never without it
I can only imagine my poor liver soaking this in day in and day out. At 5’2″ 108 pounds then. I was drinking myself to death, and darn good at it too
As I write this it makes me sad that I was this deceiving, I believe I had really nobody fooled. I just sat and wallowed in petty resentments. In realtity I was fooling only myself, I was a creep. I was in deep
I filled up a plastic water bottle with a wine of choice thinking everybody would think it was some sort flavored fruit drink, I carried it with me as I shopped. It was always fully loaded and in tow. With me everywhere I would go
I took alcohol to work in a traveler mug, smuggling in booze is a great way to get you fired, it happened a couple times. Oh yes the day I got my D.U.I. Make it worse get fired, sob and despair. Sit in your car with drink after drink, then see how you drive. Right into a buff Increbile Hulk size police officers cuffs, and off to the county jail. $1,000 bail
I still for sometime never looked the part. Looks can be deceiving. That I was. Always dressed to impress, and well schooled. For a moment I could pass myself off as able. Then I would start the job get “my desk” and my booze would dribble from the table
I was not able. Why do they call it a functioning alcoholic? Usually every one knows. What just because I could drink everybody under the table taking in copias amounts of alcohol without an ounce of sickness or headache
I was not able. Just because I got up, and drove myself to work? Usually with a drink in the middle console easing my anxieties the whole route there. I just did not care, or did I? I was loosing myself
I was lost in an alcoholic insanity. Using alcohol as a bandage for my conflicted heart. Albert Einstein said it best; “Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”
So I became a professional at something yet, how proud where was my reward? Blue ribbon hangining or a trophy please, “Insanity Professor”. In less time then it takes to get an AA degree
It has been 7 years and 2 months of sober! Wow!! 7 years since I realized I was powerless over alcohol. Gave up alcohol in exchange for my life eternal. My life in Jesus!! I carry Him around everywhere I go. He is with me to guard my heart, he takes up permanent residence. I am fully armored against the evil of this world. I know all to well what it is to be of world. Now I am just in it. As it is written to be. God is my keeper, and has reigns on me. I was convicted greatly by my lack of self control. No more for that is a life that has been said good ridden to, and forgiven.
Can you believe the madness I endured! How absurd! It almost seems harder to be alcoholic, with its trickery and hiding. Thank you Lord for now my abiding is in you!!
Airliners are for travel to and from a city or county, travel mugs hold my morning coffee, and plastic water bottles are my most prized possesion as I drink a ton of water. I don’t touch a toilet bowl unless it is a must to be attended too. My purse is in tact. I keep my Eli-Pen in there, and most know it can be gone through. I show for work free without slurring my speech, and with that get to keep my job.
Now here, for all this we can celebrate. Blue ribbon no need, eternal life is my now fated prize!!
I exchanged insanity for sanity for a life eternal with Jesus!
27 My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.28 I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand. John 10:27-28
As a huge milestone is fast approaching, I am eager in anticipation to celebrate this day with my dearest. This Thursday August 6th, I will have 7 years of continual sobriety. No toxin in my skin for 7 whole years. Nothing to numb me, and make me dumb
So with that said I can remember back to getting sober. There were so many firsts. I had been drinking pretty heavy for about ten years total when I came to the realization I was totally insane (loco). I was bruised, battered, and stained. I was asleep, like a Zombie. I could barely talk, and most times my walk was staggered. My heart was as dark as the blood that drained from my own dagger. I was held captive in darkness, shackles tight. I could not run fast enough desperation of a dying woman was seizing me
There was no one let alone me I could please. I was so woe is me, and please pity my life. I did not know how to live sober, and free of my spiritual illness. Hope was gone, that was the song on repeat in my cast iron heart. I was dead inside, my blood had run to freezing
So getting back to the sobriety part. The magic, and the artistry of God’s gracious hand on me. Free! Shackles lifted, and lights blind. I was alive, and awake from my slumber. People could see there was no more alcohol in me
The first time I saw myself in the mirror, OH DEAR! What had become of me
The first time I talked without slurring my words, I actually spoke with poise
The first time I said, “I love you,” and felt its meaning
The first time I looked outside, and saw all the earths majesticness I had been blind to
The first time I cried, raw and organic. It flowed like the storm on the night of the Titanic. Years of tears. I was drenched with sorrow, that I cast far away from me with God’s forgiveness
The first time I hugged, I didn’t want to let go it felt so good to swallowed like a bear. Not a single care
The first time I prayed. I could feel the spirit envelop me whole. For this had been years since I had that kind of know
The first time I was grateful my list was as long a hymnal I sang the chorus over and over. For thee I adore once more
The first time I laughed it was loud, and obnoxious like I had never made that sound before. Yet I felt it deep
The first time I was learning Lisa. There was so much to learn. It is was as if I was in school just for me, the A, B, C, s’
The first time I kissed with much nervousness do I even know how. Like do I practice or something I only knew under drunken uninhibitedness
The first time I made a genuine friend, do we talk over tea over something. It was so exciting you see, especially for a drunk like me
The first holiday, I remembered it all. I was festive, and a bit jolly. Break out the Holly
The first time I grieved, even my dad who had passed in 1983. My grief list was too quite lengthly. I had lost a lot in my toxic trance. Now time to take a glance, and then put it all to rest
The first time I started to find new likes, and loves that were all my own. Wow, to be my very own person. The codependency in that broken bottle gone. My age like that of a child, with much wonder. Pure amazement. Easily amused
My list of firsts could go on, and on because I still have some even seven years later. The one thing I know is these firsts are never to be taken for granted. I live my life “one day at a time,” and can never forget where I came from. I work my life with my spiritual house having to be guarded. These firsts are all dependent on my spiritual house, and where I sit. So today I don’t quite have seven years, no not until Thursday. I have the firsts, and I hold them close
The first time someone found enough worth in me to invite me to a recovery meeting, was the first time I realized I needed to have the tools it offered to learn to live sober, and free. So more firsts I could see
The first time I said The Seventh Step Prayer is as follows: “My Creator, I am now willing that you should have all of me, good and bad. I pray that you now remove from me every single defect of character which stands in the way of my usefulness to you and my fellows. Grant me strength, as I go out from here, to do your bidding
The first time I snorkeled was this weekend What a blast all weekend at the RiverThis is my smile as genuine as a mile post on a sign, I love my life. I live “one day at a time.”. My husband & I so Devine!
Weirds Are Word 