I had my first drink when I was two years old. I must have liked it then too.
It seems appropriate that on the 100th day of my coveted sobriety I’d find myself at my cousin’s wedding. An enticing southern Californian cocktail of temptations and desires.
The ceremony was short, sweet, and for the most part sincere. The warming sun and cool ocean breeze on salty tears of love: truly beautiful. The reception, however, held a stench of one thing only: alcohol. O, the seductive fortress of delusion, whose sultry moments fade from rancid winds of nausea. I was feeling as clear and kare-free as ever, yet there I was- in a perfumed and decorated vat of liquor.
Like many, I have learned to use drink as social lubricant. The realms of distortion can be a cozy place to dwell, a place where abstraction holds a quality of “proof”. Truth be known, addictions are manifestations of deep rooted fears that one must face steadily and mindfully with fierce compassion.
I have often wondered what life would be like sober, how it would feel to awaken fully without the regret and shame that has often foged the waking hours.
I am learning.
Those of you who struggle in escapism and seek relief in a ritual of misguided hunger, may these 100 days of sobriety be for you. May we feel with texture a life that opens like a sea anemone on the coral reef. May all being be free.