The hardest 60 days of my life.
The only other time I counted something in days was when I was pregnant, and I looked in books how big the little bean inside me was, and what new about it had developed that day.
From the outside this probably looks pretty insignificant, a bit like ‘My gran went to Las Vegas and all she got me was this lousy T-shirt’ type thing, instead it’s just a plastic coin, or ‘chip’ in AA parlance.
I was sober for 60 days and all I got was this chip- it might be plastic and not mean much to you, but here is what it means to me:
I was able to admit that I had a problem with alcohol and seek help.
I found a fellowship of other alcoholics who were willing to support me and help me stay sober.
I not only didn’t pick up a drink, but I learnt what to do when my brain told me I had to drink.
I am starting to understand that I have flawed thinking, and a tendency to isolate myself. Not healthy and I can’t *think* myself sober.
I need to give myself headspace. Call it what you will, meditation or prayer or running round in the freezing cold to have time for sincere gratitude in my life.
Going to a meeting is something to look forward to in the day, and you can learn a lot from listening as well as sharing.
Withdrawal and being an drinking alcoholic is not a life I ever want to go back to.
I deserve a sober life which is mine to take. A life with the normal ups and downs.
Those I love deserve my patience for them to undertake their own recovery journey from the damage I have done.
Thank you for all your support, and I look forward to the next 60 days.