Bottom line: I decided to actually do something about my problems instead of just talking about doing something about them.
Any one who knows me, or is an avid reader of this site, knows that I’ve struggled with addiction for a long time now. I hit my bottom, which we as addicts almost all inevitably do. I’m not going to go into details, as I truly believe that the worst thing that happened to me feels exactly the same as the worst thing that happened to you. So, you can already relate.
The path to recovery took me away from my life, this website, my home, my wife and (most devastatingly) my son, Jack. I can only thank God that it was temporary.
Putting myself first wasn’t easy, which is a necessity of a future of rigorous honesty. I don’t think it’s truly easy for anyone, especially when you think you’re not at all deserving of that type of self-love. In my first days of recovery some one told me that anything I put before myself I was probably going to lose anyway. I took this, and many things I’ve learned since, to heart.
This is a life-long journey. A never-ending battle, as Superman would put it. I make no guarantees and assurances beyond today anymore. I woke up sober this morning and am pretty damn certain that I can hit my pillow tonight sober. My pillow, next to my amazing wife with my gorgeous, intelligent son in his room soundly sleeping. I had stood at the precipice for so long and only through half-hearted remorse and guilt-ridden apologies was I allowed to continue my phantom life. I finally stepped off. I landed with the thud any sane man would expect, that now (only through reflection) can be seen for the insanity it was. So, here I am. Not the same George. Not the old George. A more authentic George. The only George I want to know. I am a baby again.
I have hope though. Something I don’t know if I’ve felt since I was a kid. A kind of calm happiness that I’d lost in the fog. I can see the leaves on trees again. I can see the shadows on the surface of the moon. I can see. I can hear my wife’s concerns. I can hear the universe speaking to me. I can hear.
Enough out of me. Enjoy your day, every one. With any luck, this will eventually get back to being funny again. Thanks for the catharsis. Be well on purpose.