12

It was the morning of September 1st, 2014. I was in the bathtub, extremely hungover and filled with remorse, trying to scrub away the shame that was literally oozing out of my pores, along with last night’s booze. It was a moment of reckoning. When I tried to recall the party and then the slow decline into a familiar hell, the tired phrase popped into my mind.

“I’m never drinking again.”

But this time, the jig was up. I couldn’t even tell myself that. I had lost all control over this drinking thing. I was done.

After dragging myself out of the tub, I went online, found the nearest AA meeting and drove myself there. I shouldn’t have been driving, I’m sure my blood-alcohol level was well beyond safety. But I made it and walked in the door and down the stairs into a church basement. I sat down on a hard chair, in a room mostly full of middle-aged men. And that’s where my sobriety truly began.

That was 12 years ago today and I’ve done a lot of living since then.

It makes me wonder, in a “Sliding Doors” kind of way: all that life has handed me, what would that have looked like if I hadn’t gotten sober?

Maybe I would have left and started new jobs, and new careers.

I would have gotten married and divorced.

I would have dreamed big and had my dreams dashed.

Maybe I would have endured loneliness, and also fallen for a more than a few bad guys.

I would have had my son and the complex parenting journey I am still on.

I would have experienced Covid and the unravelling and expansion that followed it.

Maybe I would have survived the loss of three parents.

Maybe it all would have happened, just like it did.

But there is no doubt, I'd be a different person. That’s not an easy thing to think about. If I survived all of this and addiction, I can’t imagine who or what I would be now. And that brings a tidal wave of gratitude for my recovery. And I remember...

I am strong, stronger than I know sometimes.

You are, too.

I am resilient, this too, shall pass.

It will for you, too.

I am creating a life that I won’t regret at the end of my days. No matter how many times I stumble or what my “success” looks like.

You are, too.

I have learned acceptance and compassion and because of recovery, am hard-wired to help. That is such a gift.

You have this gift in you, too.

And even on the very hard days, the ones that take your breath away, it’s a comforting thing to remember. Whether it's 12 days or 12 years (or any other lengths of time spent healing and recovering), THIS version of you is the one to protect and to cherish. I'm going to do my best to keep doing just that. I hope you'll join me. :)

Love,

Payton

P.S. After 12 years, I can ACTUALLY say this now, with quite a lot of confidence! "I am never drinking again."