Surrender. Bow. Give Thanks. Yoga. 💜 Today I have been living sober for 1000 days in a row. ONE. THOUSAND. DAYS. I went to bed last night remembering where I was 1000 days ago. I was in a treatment center. I had my last drink 1,005 days ago, but I medically detoxed for 5 days and since the meds made me loopy, I don’t count those days as sober days. 1,000 days ago I woke up in a treatment center for the third time in a year. Broken. Terrified. Sick. I knew it was the day I had to come off all the medication I had been on to make my detox more comfortable. I knew I had to do it or I wasn’t going to live long. Alcohol was killing me and I was letting it. I couldn’t not drink. I had heard in AA meetings that I should pray. I had no idea how to do that. I had no faith in anything. What I did have was a therapist who promised me that meditation was the medication I needed. I trusted her. She was the ONLY therapist I ever had that didn’t steer me wrong and I loved her for that. I had absolutely nothing to lose. I mustered up all the energy and courage I had and I took myself into the quietest room I could find in that place. And I sat. I sat and I tried to calm myself. I was terrified to come off my medication. I was terrified to live a life without alcohol. The thing is, it wasn’t really a choice I had. If I wanted to live it was a have to. I didn’t love myself enough to really care, but what I did have was three children who I knew needed me. They needed a healthy mom. A sober mom who could be present for them and give them all the love and attention they deserve. On that day 1,000 days ago, as I sat in meditation, I knew. I just knew that I was going to be alright. No matter what it took or how bad it sucked, I knew I was going to be alright. And guess what? I have been alright. Every. Single. Day. I have been so alright. It took a minute to figure the whole sober thing out, but with a ton of loving and supportive people to help me, I figured it out. One day at a time. AA was a great place for me to start. Because, really, where else was I going to meet sober people? People who didn’t drink liquor by the half gallon on a daily basis. People who knew the pain I was in. People who knew how scary it is to live without a crutch. But, I needed more. I needed yoga! I went to local yoga classes. I hated it. I was so uncomfortable in my skin. I hated moving in front of people, I hated being touched by the teachers and most of all I hated the tears that I seemed to cry every time I was in class. I went to AA meetings. I didn’t hate them as much as I hated yoga and meditation, but they were weird and the people were weird. I went anyway. My life started to suck less. I was told that it’s not only OK to cry in yoga, it’s perfectly acceptable. I was taught that everyone’s mind darts around in meditation. That’s why it’s called practice. I was taught that all alcoholics and addicts have to learn how to be comfortable in their skin. I wasn’t special or unique. That little voice in my head, everyone has one. The AA women explained to me that I don’t have to act on every thought that enters my head. I really wanted people to meditate with, so I started a local meditation group. These people helped me so much. They were my teachers. Older. Wiser. They taught me that nobody really gets to meditation because things are so wonderful in their lives. They were all searching when they found meditation. Searching for something better. I was still going to yoga pretty regularly and still not loving it. But, I went anyway. It gave me something “wholesome” to do during my day that distracted me from my desire to get outside of myself. What it did was put me directly inside of myself. Inside of my body. It was moving meditation! For the first time in my life I was able to be in my skin, in my body with no distraction. I learned how to breathe deeply. I learned how to let go of my thoughts. I learned how to create space in my body by letting go of the years of torture I had put my body through. I learned to invite love and light into that space. I started to grow and to thrive. Today, my life is not at all like it was 1,000 days ago. It’s not ever perfect, but it’s perfect for me. I remember that girl from 1,000 days ago, but she’s not me. I have so many blessings in my life. So many new friends. So much love. So much to be grateful for. My entire life is set up in a way that supports my recovery. It’s a beautiful life. Thank you all for being a part of it. ❤️

3 thoughts on “Surrender. Bow. Give Thanks. Yoga. 💜 Today I have been living sober for 1000 days in a row. ONE. THOUSAND. DAYS. I went to bed last night remembering where I was 1000 days ago. I was in a treatment center. I had my last drink 1,005 days ago, but I medically detoxed for 5 days and since the meds made me loopy, I don’t count those days as sober days. 1,000 days ago I woke up in a treatment center for the third time in a year. Broken. Terrified. Sick. I knew it was the day I had to come off all the medication I had been on to make my detox more comfortable. I knew I had to do it or I wasn’t going to live long. Alcohol was killing me and I was letting it. I couldn’t not drink. I had heard in AA meetings that I should pray. I had no idea how to do that. I had no faith in anything. What I did have was a therapist who promised me that meditation was the medication I needed. I trusted her. She was the ONLY therapist I ever had that didn’t steer me wrong and I loved her for that. I had absolutely nothing to lose. I mustered up all the energy and courage I had and I took myself into the quietest room I could find in that place. And I sat. I sat and I tried to calm myself. I was terrified to come off my medication. I was terrified to live a life without alcohol. The thing is, it wasn’t really a choice I had. If I wanted to live it was a have to. I didn’t love myself enough to really care, but what I did have was three children who I knew needed me. They needed a healthy mom. A sober mom who could be present for them and give them all the love and attention they deserve. On that day 1,000 days ago, as I sat in meditation, I knew. I just knew that I was going to be alright. No matter what it took or how bad it sucked, I knew I was going to be alright. And guess what? I have been alright. Every. Single. Day. I have been so alright. It took a minute to figure the whole sober thing out, but with a ton of loving and supportive people to help me, I figured it out. One day at a time. AA was a great place for me to start. Because, really, where else was I going to meet sober people? People who didn’t drink liquor by the half gallon on a daily basis. People who knew the pain I was in. People who knew how scary it is to live without a crutch. But, I needed more. I needed yoga! I went to local yoga classes. I hated it. I was so uncomfortable in my skin. I hated moving in front of people, I hated being touched by the teachers and most of all I hated the tears that I seemed to cry every time I was in class. I went to AA meetings. I didn’t hate them as much as I hated yoga and meditation, but they were weird and the people were weird. I went anyway. My life started to suck less. I was told that it’s not only OK to cry in yoga, it’s perfectly acceptable. I was taught that everyone’s mind darts around in meditation. That’s why it’s called practice. I was taught that all alcoholics and addicts have to learn how to be comfortable in their skin. I wasn’t special or unique. That little voice in my head, everyone has one. The AA women explained to me that I don’t have to act on every thought that enters my head. I really wanted people to meditate with, so I started a local meditation group. These people helped me so much. They were my teachers. Older. Wiser. They taught me that nobody really gets to meditation because things are so wonderful in their lives. They were all searching when they found meditation. Searching for something better. I was still going to yoga pretty regularly and still not loving it. But, I went anyway. It gave me something “wholesome” to do during my day that distracted me from my desire to get outside of myself. What it did was put me directly inside of myself. Inside of my body. It was moving meditation! For the first time in my life I was able to be in my skin, in my body with no distraction. I learned how to breathe deeply. I learned how to let go of my thoughts. I learned how to create space in my body by letting go of the years of torture I had put my body through. I learned to invite love and light into that space. I started to grow and to thrive. Today, my life is not at all like it was 1,000 days ago. It’s not ever perfect, but it’s perfect for me. I remember that girl from 1,000 days ago, but she’s not me. I have so many blessings in my life. So many new friends. So much love. So much to be grateful for. My entire life is set up in a way that supports my recovery. It’s a beautiful life. Thank you all for being a part of it. ❤️

  1. Lance says:

    I am so excited to see you expand your platform of sharing your experience, strength and hope. When you decided to walk the path of sobriety I was already here and since that time, we have walked it together. I have been amazed at how fast you have grown. Although my years of sobriety far exceed yours, my quality often lags far behind yours. You have been an inspiration and teacher, but most of all, you have been a friend. Good luck on your new endeavor here. I will be watching and reading. Don’t ever stop teaching and inspiring! Love you.

    Like

  2. Bud says:

    I am wowed by your story. I thought I knew you, but there is so much more. We have laughed together, party’d together a bit, and just so you know…….in the worst of your times, the people I know always thought you were a “great” mother……please believe that! Many of us have survived many things, and yes we are better today than we were ten years ago. I have been a Teacher all my adult life, even in the worst of times, but also in the best of times. You, my friend, are amazing, and your life has many people who applaud you for your effort. Share……thats the secret now. Give back. And you are! Janet and I love you and we are very proud of you. Maybe one day I’ll share my story with you. It might scare ya!

    Like

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