Five small years

 

Indulge me if you will.

Humor me while I pat myself on the back. 

Today is a day of celebration.

It’s a day that for a long time I couldn’t even imagine.  Couldn’t fathom.  

Today marks five – count em’ – five years of sobriety for me. 

Yayyy me!

So today, I’m going to put my camera down, wander away from editing, and stop for a moment and thank people and think about the past five years.

I first have to thank my husband.  He wasn’t my husband when we started this journey, so many many years ago as friends.  We had partied together, with our respective former spouses, and always maintained a connection through the years and through divorces.  When I called him, what was it, seven years ago, and told him that I was now single, I had been drinking that night.  It was a classic drunk dial.  But I did remember him telling me that he had quit drinking and had celebrated two years sober just a few months before that.  I couldn’t believe it.  I wanted to know why.  But not why, like what happened to bring you to this decision, it was more like why the hell would you want to do that?

Fast forward.  This man put up with a lot of the usual alcoholic behavior from me.  Lying, manipulation, deceit, heartache.  But he was there that day that I woke up and said that enough was enough.  And he cheered me on at every turn.  And though it’s been a long time since the thought of a drink had me firmly in its clutched fist, we still talk about it.  We even joke about it.  Despite his argument to the contrary, I don’t think I’d be sober without him.  He’ll probably never read this blog.  He doesn’t care much for sentimentality.  He just knows.  He gets it.  He gets me. 

My parents have been cheerleaders, too.  When they let me move back in with them so that I could start down the path to recovery, I doubt they knew what they were in for.  I detoxed and put together a few days, then a few weeks of sobriety, making an effort to go to AA meetings, and appear sincere, and then I’d relapse.  Some trigger or another had me off to the store.  It was a horrible, desperate time for me and for them.  How to win the battle?  I know they were relieved when in a final frightening weekend, my now husband asked me to move in with him.

It was supposed to be for ninety days, or for whatever it took for me to get sober.  I had to commit to rehabilitation, which I did.  Finally it felt like I was doing this for me and not to please others.  I couldn’t keep living the life I had been.  Those ninety days were hard days.  I went to meetings daily, to intensive outpatient treatment and tried to help others, giving rides and making phone calls.  My husband says that he know when I moved in that he was going to marry me.  He was right. 

So, because I got sober so many things have happened that I must be grateful for. 

Set aside the love story, which intertwines throughout.  I was able to repair the damaged relationship with my parents.  I worked on the financial disaster I was in and took responsibility for myself.  I learned to stop blaming others for my actions.  I have this absolutely wonderful daughter who is growing into a very cool teen.  I love that she is here with me in this house we bought and that we have a home and a life together. 

I renewed my passion for photography and picked up my camera instead of a drink.  In the past five years, I’ve grown this little business and have learned so much more about my craft and about the business of photography. 

I’ve traveled to places I would have never dreamed.  Of course you think of places like Orlando when you’re a kid, but I didn’t have a clue about Mexico.  I’ve snorkeled in the Caribbean and rode the tallest and fastest roller coaster on the continent. 

I make a mean guacamole and ran a 10 k.  I saw the Lion King on Broadway and Blue Man Group at the Charles Theatre in Boston.  Cozumel.  Phillipsburg.  Hollywood.  Virginia Beach.  Tampa Bay.  Bar Harbor.  My own backyard.  Planted gardens and flowers. 

All in the last five years. 

I sit on the couch at night and watch TV with my family and it’s all perfectly normal. 

This morning I took photos of frosted leaves and snow in my driveway before going to work.  Simple little things like that are things I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to experience had I continued drinking.  Hell, I don’t even know whether I’d be alive.  I’m certain that my daughter would not be living with me and my husband wouldn’t be my husband.  That much I know.  Where I would be no one knows.  It’s surprising and wonderful the paths we take and where they lead us.

So today, today is yet another day that I won’t drink, and I will love and be loved, trust and be trusted, give and be given to.  Today is another reason to celebrate.