Trust seems to be one of the most important things that one can have in their life. Whether it's an intimate relationship, a parent, a colleague, or a close friend, it's imperative that trust be present. Without it, you have zero foundation, and with no foundation, you crumble.
On that same note, say you build your foundation on sand? What about on the side of a mountain? One natural disaster, and then what?
Being as I am a very anxious person, I stop to consider all possibilities. Everything that could go wrong, does, in my mind. It's on a loop most days. It's exhausting being me.
I digress...
Why broach the topic of trust on a blog specifically to journal my journey through sobriety? Well. It's simple. I have to trust myself. I have spent the majority of my life not trusting myself; that inner gut feeling that tells me something just isn't quite right. Usually, by trial and error, I look back and wonder why I did it...again. Why would I not trust my gut? Sometimes it's my pride. I don't want to admit that I was wrong in the end, so I slap a smile on my face and go about my business as usual. Eventually my patience wears thin though, and I find myself on the brink of a complete and utter disastrous meltdown. One can only be pushed so far before they snap.
Now, this has landed me in some hot water over the years, but nothing quite as bad as the last six months have become. More on that later. I consider myself fairly self aware, as does my therapist who've I've been seeing for almost four years now, but there are times that I just want to zone out, be unaware and aloof, ignorant, and blind. It's because of this need to not think so hard and so much that I turned to a drug that is easily available to anyone over 21. The poison to my body, my organs, and my mind were child's play compared to what it did to my demeanor. I went from being someone who, despite being constantly reminded of my impatience (don't ask me to do anything techy), I, at the very least, could muster up every ounce of patience to have an important conversation. If a serious topic needs to be broached, well, I am down for it. The problem with mixing alcohol with grief and trauma though? Well. It's been a shit show of epic proportions, and that's putting it lightly.
As it sits now, I have hurt a lot of people with my dependency on alcohol the past 6 months. I have said and done things I don't remember. I became someone I truly did not recognize. The crutch that my very own brother used, that took him from me, had become the devil in my own life, and I didn't know how to step away from it. It took it's claws and dug so deep into my soul, that looking back at it all, I am left wondering just what in Sam hell was I thinking?
I've been extremely hard on myself since deciding to sober up completely. My therapist told me yesterday to give myself some grace, and I scoffed. Grace? For what, exactly? I've hurt people. I've hurt myself. I've dealt with more suicidal ideation in the last 6 months than I have in my entire life. I've scared my family. I've scared my children, though they haven't known the extent of what their mother has been going through, they aren't stupid. Most of my children are empaths; they feel everything I feel. There's no hiding from them. One day I will have to fess up, and I hope I can do it with courage and grace.
I remember my brother in the throes of his addictions. He was so angry. He would say the cruelest things to me, but I could take it. I knew it wasn't him deep down. I continued to love him, despite the things he said and did, and I would give anything....ANYthing, to have him back here with me, addictions and all.
It's hard to trust that things will get better, simply because I seem to keep messing up over and over and over again in life. I love too hard, I trust people's words, and I just want to be loved back. I want to be able to trust someone with my life, and as it sits right now, my family is all I've got. My current situation is grim, and I'd go more into that, but I'm not sure I'm entirely ready tonight (clock just struck 10 pm). I keep waiting for my body to let me know it's time to get some rest, but, my mind is racing. This time a few weeks ago, I would have been sipping (or shooting) vodka to numb the spiral. Instead, I will sit here with my feelings and really try and process them as best I can.
I've got to trust that I can do this. I must put faith in myself and my ability to keep moving forward. I've got one hell of a support system with my family. I am truly, TRULY, blessed to have what I have in them. We are strong together. We keep fighting and pushing forward together, even after suffering the worst loss and feeling the worst pain from losing one of our own. He's with me too. He's here with me now. He's in the wind, and the sparrows I watch daily, and the songs that randomly pop up on my Apple Music, and in my children's smiles. He's in my tears gently rolling down my cheeks right now. He's in my heart, my soul, and divinely protects me...sometimes even from myself. He's in my willpower to walk each day with my head held high, saying, "another day sober...another day not having to fight the urge." Oh yes. He's here.
He never went away.
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