by Paul Churchill | Jun 22, 2015 | Blog, Early Sobriety, Moms in Recovery
Today I am 18 months and two days sober. And today I am happier than I have been since I was a little girl and the solution to all of life’s problems were found in the highest whispering branches of the tree in my front yard. In those days I fell into bed drunk with exhaustion from building forts and skating on metal wheels and climbing trees and flying from the rooftop into my pool. I knew no fear. In those days I was invincible. I wore capes. I had serenity.
I can’t say precisely when that changed. Not precisely. But the fear crept in. Perhaps it was when I began to realize that adults did not have all of the answers and worse, they could not be trusted. They could be selfish and neglectful. Ugly. Life for them seemed confusing…heavy, unromantic, full of obligations and responsibility. It sucked. And, the kicker, adulthood was an inevitability.
So, since I could see nobody around me who seemed to wear adulthood well I became afraid. I was afraid mostly of what I did not know. The unknown was my compass that led me in the opposite direction of possibility.
As I got older, I began to notice that there were, however, people out there who seemed to know some things. Happy people. Successful people. I thought that somehow, they had to have been born that way or had parents with answers. More than likely, insanely rich, parents with answers. But I was different and could never hope to have what they had. I was not chosen for that life. I did things mind you. I earned a degree and had a business, but I was unsatisfied. I became resigned to a life of quiet desperation.
So I drank to make life fun. Then to make it bearable. And finally because I could not stop, I lost things, important things; the trust and respect of my children, relationships…countless pairs of sunglasses. Then I lost hope. I did not live, I existed. I subsisted. I did not really expect to live much longer and believed my children to be better off in the long run for it.
It was a cold and dreary December morning I woke from a 7 day blackout alone, defeated. I prayed to a god I did not believe in. I prayed to whomever was listening and I picked up the phone.
That was when I came to believe that a power greater than myself could restore me to sanity.
I turned over my life and will to the care of my higher power and started working the program of AA, an idea that repulsed me for years. Go figure,
Today I have the happy heart of childhood. Today I have serenity. Today I am a grateful alcoholic.
by Paul Churchill | May 28, 2015 | Blog, Early Sobriety, The First 72
During Paul’s Recovery Elevator podcast interviews, he often asks about our first 24, 36 or 48 hours of sobriety. Where were we? How did was pass time? Did we experience detoxification in a safe environment, or did we survive on our own root desire and strength?
My first 24 hours of sobriety were spent in the emergency room. After my daughter and ex-husband called our local crisis center for my placement, they dropped me off. However, the” bouncer” at the door conducted a breathalyzer on me. The results came in; I was over the legal limit and was unable to enter their facility until I went through a detox in the hospital.
After they took my vitals, and my shoes (I threatened to run away and go home) I slept intermittently until the following day. Around noon I was taken to the Hope House, where my journey into recovery would begin. I spent six days there. I learned how to conduct myself in group therapy, took walks, participated in cut and paste projects (with child proof scissors and glue sticks), and began the intense sugar cravings accompanied my new sobriety. The experience was an education in the varying degrees of addiction and a sincere eye opener.
The following is an email I sent my loved ones on day two in recovery. With a fresh 10 months of sobriety, I can now read between the lines. I was scared. I was ashamed. And I was incredibly sad. Yet as you will see, I seem optimistic and relieved in the email. The experience seems surreal now. I had no idea when I typed those words that I was about to embark on a life altering endeavor.
Today I am grateful for the memories of my time in Hope House. I often wonder what became of the other addicts I met there. I always thought that I would see at least one of them in attendance at an AA meeting. That hasn’t happened. It did prove fateful, not just in my own recovery, but because that is where my path crossed with Paul’s. He was employed as an aide there.
It’s a bit crazy that we now collaborate to help other’s still suffering. Everything certainly does seem to happen for a reason.
Good morning,
I am doing well. Getting lots of rest and enjoying the opportunity for therapy and talking with the other residents. The stories are interesting, colorful, tragic, and inspiring.
I must say, I feel like it’s a cross between the Bob Newhart show, Big Brother, and a dysfunctional episode of The Brady Bunch. I think by saying that, every generation of our family will understand what I mean. There are two residents that are really a mess, and I thank God that I am not that manic. But have decided that we all have issues; they just differ in the way they manifest.
Yesterday we did an exercise in group therapy. We were each given two cups. In one cup we had to find things from nature that represented what we felt represented our weaknesses. For every one of those weaknesses, we had to find two things to represent our strengths. In my “bad” cup, I chose a dead dandelion, a piece of bark, and a gray rock.
Dead dandelion = that I am feeling stagnant, with the “beautiful” part of my season gone.
Bark = not sustaining the life of my “tree” (s), feeling old.
Gray rock = feeling a loss of my shine and exuberance.
Now the good news, in my good cup:
A red leaf = representing my fire. The fire that I know I have inside me, that I need to reignite.
A blade of grass = representing “music”. As in Grandma teaching me how to make a song out of that blade of grass and that I have the ability to “sing” and find joy in my own music (not literally; I can’t sing…but figuratively)
A living dandelion = that I have the opportunity and faith to distribute these seeds of life to my kids and to have a positive impact on those around me
A rock that resembles a Petoskey stone = representing the youth in me, and my ability to block out outside influences while I seek peace through my focus and intent.
It was very cool. There was another group session in the evening that was even more enlightening.
In all this has been a very positive experience. The time had come to seek guidance, and I believe this is just the place I needed to start.
Thanks for all of your kind words and help this week. I should be home by Friday.
The girls came to visit me last night. Jessa with a big smile and a Diet Coke. Emma was very sullen and didn’t want to talk. Emma agreed to go to her counselor this week to get some advice.
Love you all,
Kellie
