“It is easy to let up on the spiritual program of action and rest on our laurels. We are headed for trouble if we do, for alcohol is a subtle foe. We are not cured of alcoholism.”– Page Eighty-Five, the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous –
I was at a meeting the other evening, and the topic was ‘Triggers’…as in what sets off the phenomenon of craving (no, it had nothing to do with Roy Rogers’ horse).
For instance, it’s usually best for some folks to altogether avoid the beer aisle at the supermarket. They start fixating and obsessing about their old favorites, or ruefully wondering about the flavor of all those new products they never had the chance to try.
I guess I’m lucky, because that stuff never concerned me.
First off, I don’t make it a habit of hanging around the booze because I have no business there.
I’m not concerned about the lovely packaging, or taste of this, or the nuanced flavor of that.
Back in the day I was never a snooty connoisseur, drinking with an extended pinky finger. You never heard me spouting platitudes like,“What a delightful name. It almost sounds domestic.” Or, ” the palate is lightly amusing, yet boldly provocative.”
I’d say, “I wanna drink ’til I baff” (I’m from Massachusetts).
I got the cheapest stuff, drank for effect, and could care less if it tasted like lighter fluid.
At this station in life, walking down the cookie aisle is pretty much running the gauntlet.
We are fragile and sensitive creatures, and it doesn’t take much to set us off.
Right underneath my thin veneer of calm serenity, lies a bubbling, smoking, noxious tar pit of disease patiently waiting to escape. It’s always right there, and never goes away.
After accumulating long-term sobriety, the urge is to get complacent, sit back and coast.
I’m totally guilty of that, and it’s a perilous place to be. I can easily start thinking, “I got this” and buy into the idea that I’m some kind of recovery stud.
Just when I think I’ve made such wonderful progress, along comes some situation that sends me over the edge – and suddenly I’m ranting like Mussolini on the balcony.
Just like everybody else, I have good days and not-so-good days.
Some days can be downright awful, but I manage to get through it with a minimum of fuss.
Other days, some small inconvenience emerges, and I turn into a spaz and need to breathe into a small paper bag.
I’ve had many, many days when the best thing I did was not drink. That’s kind of a big deal.
I don’t have to pursue recovery, I get to pursue it.
I’ve learned to embrace my humanity, and accept that I’m not perfect…Nobody’s perfect
THE TAKEAWAY:
Constant vigilance is the key.
I’m in this for life, and nothing less than a prolonged and concerted effort will suffice.
The good news: I have way more fun in sobriety than I ever did drinking.The promises have all happened, and no matter where I go, I’ll never have to be alone.
The really good news: If this works for me, it’ll work for you, too.