Not that any of us changed, per se, all the pieces of the original picture are still there.
Except of course for the glaringly obvious and one very cute little extra that never used to be there before.
Three years ago I was stuck in such despairing circumstances that not even the most upbeat optimist would have believed me capable of clambering out of them.
And the truth is, I wasn't. Not in the least bit capable.
Now I already hear the resounding protests of loved ones wanting me to pat myself on the back but I promise you this hinders rather than helps.
My fellow addicts will understand this.
Lets start at the beginning.
It was a day just like any other. Or night like any other, rather, since I was mainly nocturnal at the time.
My vision seemed blurry from the amount of cigarette smoke drifting around in the house, me cross-legged in the middle, on a Christmas bed in front of the tv.
Judge Judy nattering on in her comforting way couldn't even lift me from my depression.
Around me lay scattered the paraphernalia I used to feel better about life being unfair in the year 2005.
In 2015 I used them to feel somewhat normal again.
My base-line had gotten so low that I needed the stuff to keep my head above water, not rocket me into the stratosphere where light was brighter and music merrier, anymore.
I contemplated my life and how I had got there.
My friends and family all knew I at some point struggled with addiction but seemed unaware of the fact that I had fallen quite spectacularly off the wagon soon after getting on it
(18 months to be exact), round about the same time I married my ex husband.
Weird how some things just go hand in hand.
I said a furtive prayer. I spoke with God philosophically albeit resignedly all throughout my years of trouble.
By now I had learned that self-flagellation, passionate promises and midnight bargaining never amounted to anything.
Probably because I still operated from the belief that I had any control over my actions, whatsoever.
The truth is I was completely out of control, powerless, and it had finally started dawning on me.
I was fucked.
"God, I believe I am, to cop a clinical term, fucked? Thinking maybe you can show me the way?"
"Go to AA my child"
"But God, I am not an alcoholic"
"..."
"Am I? Am I an alcoholic? Is being an addict not bad enough?"
"..."
"Okay, okay, I'll go already, gawsh, don't go on about it"
Off I went to AA, husband complaining bitterly because "Why can't you just drink like a normal person instead of stopping altogether?" and "Who exactly are at these meetings, it sounds like a sect, I think they are brain-washing you" and finally "Are there guys there?".
Luckily this was not my first rodeo so I was used to people protesting, often the ones who helped you get to the point where you ask for help in the first place.
Bizarre right?
Yeah, well, we're all just human.
It didn't take right away, I first tried to do things my way again and of course once again it didn't work, until finally I truly surrendered, asked a near-stranger to be my sponsor and started the steps.
The almost instant results were staggering.
Once I gave over to the higher power of my choosing, the urge to FUBAR myself lifted as if by magic from my admittedly exhausted shoulders.
This I still to this day consider a miracle.
And I am not big on miracles.
God knows not to bless me with gifts such as speaking in tongues or falling to the ground in a dead faint (if that can be considered a gift, even?) because it will freak my out so much that I will hop right up and join the Muslims.
Do they speak in tongues and fall over?
Because if yes, I will hop over to the Buddhists. Or the Krishna's. Or whoever doesn't spend ages trying to convince other people that they are right and everyone else is wrong, so that eliminates the atheists, I'm afraid.
So anyway, long story short, I came clean, I surrendered my will and life over to a higher power (who did for me what I could not do for myself) and life went on.
The miracles kept right on coming ever since I started saying the third step prayer everyday:
1.) I did not relapse. After ten years of failure, despair and concussions, I did not relapse.
2.) I fell pregnant even though it was clinically extremely unlikely (if not impossible)
3.) I still did not relapse but I was pregnant so it would have been extremely effed-up of me to do so
4.) I delivered a healthy baby girl
5.) I still did not relapse but having a newborn and a paralysed dog and a very painful c-section cut and being unable to drive or walk upright it would have been challenging but then again I have overcome insurmountable odds before to get at my fix.
6.) I got a job
7.) I did really well at my job and felt very happy
8.) When my job got harder and I stopped making target I did not relapse. Not because I was strong and clear-minded but because my higher power was doing for me what I could not do for myself.
9.) God said: "Would you ever consider going back into Oral Hygiene and maybe opening your own practice?" Me: "Uh, are you quite mad?"
10.) I went back to Oral Hygiene and opened my own practice.
"You are very brave to have done this!" people say.
"Wasn't me, really" I say in return.
"Huh?"
Honestly, I guess it was my idea, yes, but being me, I would never EVER have actually done it, surely.
Sure, admitting you have a problem and asking for help takes a lot of courage (or sheer desperation).
Surrendering to a higher power who you are actually not sure you believe in anymore and definitely do NOT trust takes a whole lot of courage. It gets easier because the more I handed my will over, the better my life got.
I also realise that to anyone not in the program this must sound pretty strange and sect-y and that's okay. You take what you want and leave the rest.
All I know now for sure is that I am thinner, happier, richer and about a millions times more productive than ever before (notice how "thinner"somehow beat "happier" to the top of the list, go figure).
Not to say that I am not capable of relapse, oh yes I am, yes oh yes I am.
I have done it before. A lot. Easiest thing in the world, that old relapse.
But I say that third step prayer everyday.
Everyday just for today, I say my prayer, so for today, I am free.
Why did God let this happen to me in the first place?
How come He didn't swoop down and rescue me from the awful clutches of addiction and depression?
Well, it took me a while to think up an answer, and I do believe it comes down to free will.
If God swept in every time we screwed up, where would we be?
We would all be robots.
And maybe the world would be a better place. Definitely the world would be a much less horrible place.
But it would also be pretty boring and lack a certain je n'est c'est quois. Non?
Next steps: I would like another baby. Or at least, Takealot seems to want me to have another baby because everything comes in sets of four, so in order to justify the four kitchen-stools, place mats and steak knives I bought last week, I am going to have to have another baby.
Is this my higher power's will for me?
"I guess we'll just have to wait and see" she says while drinking hand fulls of StaminoGro.
As always, truly inspiring Elmien 👌❤
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