The ‘good life’ arrived on the worst day of my life

No matter how hard I try I cannot escape me. I am the sole, constant companion that travels with me throughout each day. And while I have spent many hours trying to murder this fact, my desire to have it be otherwise will never be compromised.

Am I a worthy companion or a dueling opponent?

My thoughts and me, we are tethered. And from what I can see, this is the way of it for eternity. What I know with certainty is that I have an identity, an identity that I created; first with my thought and then with my action. These two steps have created the quality of my life.

If I have tried to drink “normally” and it has failed me—again

… and again

… and again.

Might I try and see that my thinking opponent rather than my thinking companion is baiting me? My opponent is not interested in my success, but my failure.

Long before my first drink I found enumerable ways to escape my disagreeable and critical opponent. Time spent feeling and expressing healthy thoughts was something of a fluke. Good things that happened were possibly a windfall, but certainly not lasting. I had become so unfamiliar with the loving supportive voice within that I did not recognize it when it appeared. Life was built on the model: “Someday things will be different.” That day never arrived and so I drank even when I didn’t want to, certain the ‘good life’ would be here tomorrow.

The ‘good life’ arrived on the worst day of my life; the day I made the commitment to stop drinking.

That relentless truth, that voice I had so long ago abandon told me I was more, much more than I had become. I didn’t want to listen. I could not see that I was anything close to the beauty it professed was within me. I had believed and behaved so differently for so long. I was invested in this identity. Who would I be if I couldn’t drink? I drank for the good times and the bad. I just drank at life and blamed it on you. It seemed there was no other way. I had tried, or so I thought.

This was the starting point to my brand new beautiful life:

  1. A trail of destruction behind me, (some of it reparable, some of it not)
  2. A person who had become physically, mentally, and spiritually impaired
  3. A person that couldn’t stand to be alone with herself so she drank to numb her from her
  4. A person that realized drinking today would numb her and she could create more damage, but she could never undo what was done with another drink
  5. A person that could either be something different today—or not
  6. A person that could wake up tomorrow with one day of sobriety under her belt—or not
  7. A person that wanted a better life but didn’t have a clue how to go about it
  8. A person that was willing to start—now!

I am no longer willing to let this opponent pulverize me. Today I am willing to believe I am something more, because I am.

Today I am willing to hear the worthy companion.

For more information and guidance on quieting the dueling opponent:

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No Responses to “The ‘good life’ arrived on the worst day of my life

  • You know how we say there are no coincidences? Well, once again, you have written exactly what I needed, when I needed it. Thank you.

  • “Who would I be if I couldn’t drink?”
    I wondered that for a long time myself. I grew up never really having a “solid identity.” I was a chameleon, always changing to the situation, always changing myself to fit another’s ideal, always pretending, always acting. Drinking was one of the few constants in my life, it was there, is was dependable, it was a defense mechanism. But then it started changing- it wasn’t so dependable anymore and it was taking over my life, smothering me. That’s when I heard that inner voice- it said, “this isn’t working.”
    “Who would I be if I couldn’t drink?” I could be a new person, I could be healthy, I could be a source of light, I could be calm, I could be serene, I could be me, and I could be happy.
    I thought alcohol was my constant companion. I was wrong.
    I was always my own constant companion.
    What a wonderful post Lisa, thank you for the insight.

    • I love that word “chameleon.” It fits us well. Finding who I was without the changing facade. Today it changes, but it’s a change of my own growth, my own creation. Thanks for coming by, with love, Lisa

  • This is a strong and positive post. It’s reassuring to see it out there. I wish you the absolute best. Pulverize. An excellent choice of word…

    • I’ve been thinking about you. How is everything moving along? Any pulverizing? Would love to connect with you on a personal level. Please keep in touch. (ps Did you get my book?)

      • Lisa – hi 🙂

        No, I didn’t get your book? What through email? I’m very interested!

        Things are okay, but the last week was taken up entirely by my eldest sister. Pretty crushed, I was. I still haven’t learned how to cope with that soberly : being crushed…

        But I AM well 🙂 Lovely to hear you, so personally.

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