Stargazing

On Thursday I met with a client from the same outpatient treatment facility I attended (after a call from my old counselor). Less than 2 months sober, he's doing what I did not so long ago: trying to carve out a new life sans spirits.

In fact, today is officially my 3 year sobriety anniversary. Crazy. Any milestone of sobriety blows my mind, whether it's myself or someone else. When they arrive, it's almost impossible not to reflect at least a little. Three years ago this was my life: no car, no license and about to fitted for an ankle bracelet courtesy of the county, massive fines, weekends in county jail, tired, defeated, deflated, ashamed, et al. A veritable basket case of emotions.

The last time I drank I didn't black out either. Surprising because I blacked out almost every time. It was normal. I remember being at a bar in Northeast Minneapolis and sitting out on porch staring at my half empty glass of beer and smoking. I remember looking around at all the people laughing and drinking, and then looking up at the clear sky and bright stars overhead and suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of sadness.

 An older woman and I made eye contact, and whether we shared the same sentiment or not (it felt like we did) I remember thinking there has to be more than this. The despair on her face felt like a reflection of my own. I was supposed to be contributing more to myself, more to others, and this lifestyle wasn't cutting it anymore. I had become such a cliche, a drunk who can't stop drinking, and I was so tired of it. That afternoon I told myself I wasn't going to drink that night and here I was, at it again. I felt betrayed somehow, like I couldn't even trust myself to make my own decisions anymore. It was a bizarre moment of clarity for an otherwise oblivious wanderer. I begrudgingly finished my drink and wandered home with friends.

That night I didn't get any smarter, nor did I somehow have a magical spiritual relief. The next months and years were tough as I had to change everything about how I lived and thought. That night sticks out though because I was sick and tired of lying to myself. Maybe I didn't attain some level spiritual clarity, but that night I did make a decision, unconsciously perhaps, to be honest about how I lived my life.

That honesty is still with me (I hope). Reflection is good thing to do from time to time. It reminds me how all things are prelude to this moment - like them or not. It reminds me I'm right where I'm supposed to be today. I look around at the friends I have, the family I get to share life with, and the wife who loves me just as I am (crazy and all).  These are promises that come true. It often feels like borrowed time - and I try not to waste it.

I'm grateful for this second chance.