3 years sober

I’m 3 years sober today. This isn’t what I pictured my life would be like 3.5 years ago. I know that sounds like a pandemic gripe. That I’m going to take this opportunity to talk about how I miss performing, or hugging my grandma, or coffee dates with friends INSIDE coffee shops...or knowing I could travel anywhere at anytime if I had the money. I could continue with that list. And all of it would be true. But more truthful than that is I didn’t plan on being alive past 40, and that birthday is only 3 months away. That means I either wouldn’t have been alive to write this post, or I would’ve been clinging to deaths door, perhaps wishing my prediction wasn’t coming to fruition. Multiple trips to the hospital found me startling myself awake, hooked up to tubes and wires, wondering “really!? I made it through again? Why?” Never unscathed, but also never willing to change.

Until it clicked.

“Some of us have tried to hold on to our old ideas and the result was nil until we let go absolutely.”

Have I let go of everything absolutely? No. But it’s progress rather than perfection. Do I still pity and hurt for and long to help the 19 year old me? To see if I could stop the madness before it truly started? Of course. Do I look at the successes of my college classmates, and their TONY awards, and Grammy Awards, and million dollar careers and wonder “what if?” Of course. Do I live with regret? I try not to, but I’d be lying to say I don’t at times.

Today I’m 3 years sober! Three and a half years ago I didn’t expect my life to be anything like it is today. But let’s remember that three and a half years ago I didn’t imagine myself still being here. I didn’t imagine holding my cousins brand new baby, or to see my grandma welcome her 2nd great grandchild, or my great aunts 2nd great great niece/nephew into the world. I didn’t imagine getting 4 months of unemployed downtime to learn to macrame, or to propagate plants from cuttings, or garden for hours in my other grandmas backyard. I didn’t expect to still be with the same amazing boyfriend, in a beautiful brand new apartment, with a second room just for making art and music. I didn’t expect to ever again be living minutes away from both my siblings, who I love and treasure more than I can explain. I didn’t expect to still be making music. I didn’t expect my career to start up again, and for it to blossom in new and incredible ways. I didn’t expect my last live performance, til who knows when, would involve conducting and playing the piano for a musical theater double header at two incredible regional theaters. I didn’t expect to still be here to jokingly welcome in fall smells, still in summer, while dreading the winter. I didn’t expect to be here to dread another winter. I didn’t think I’d be able to develop new skills that would allow me to teach a third year of summer camp virtually this year, or to land a new job with wonderful new people and benefits that people take for granted, like health insurance and 401k.

I’ve pivoted my way of thinking and doing. Instead of asking “why am I still alive” as a daunting question filled with disappointment and no answers, I’ve become more determined to find the answer, or create it, and then celebrate it. I don’t have to still be here, I GET to still be here. What a world of difference between those two statements.

For anyone still struggling, the last 6 months have been beyond challenging for everyone, but so much more so for those of us battling our demons. Keep trudging forward, one foot in front of the other, one day at a time. There has to be light on the other side of this epic tunnel. I say that with certainty, because I’ve determined I have to be here to see it. And then I get to celebrate with you on the other side.