feels like I dodged a bullet


Like Neo in the Matrix, getting sober gives you extreme awareness of what to avoid; see the bullet, bend  your body and mind to evade its penetration into your brain or heart.  Many times I’ve abstained from alcohol, but alas abstinance makes the heart grow fonder some said.  My desire to drink would come back stronger and hungrier. You can’t feed that beast for too long without it tearing you limb from limb in the process. It will consume you, eat you alive.  Right now I’m straving the wild thing that wants to eat me up.  Not with love, like in the children’s book.  With hatred, an intent to destroy, an insatiable appetite.

Like my doctor said, alcohol is not my friend.  Oh he’s a seductive lover but more a manipulative, cunning and baffling (AA description) foe.  A woman who escapes the husband who beats her,  she’s just dodged a bullet.  Because believe me when I tell you this…he would have eventually killed her.  Beaten her so badly she either would be disabled for life or dead.  My point:  drinking is my domestic abuser.  I’m taking my kids and we are moving into a women’s shelter. And after that, I am getting a restraining order, blocking his number… and maybe even moving and changing my hairstyle and name.  That’s how you dodge a bullet.

Survive.  Thrive. Self-preserve what God has so wonderfully made in His image and likeness.  If I can believe that, that I am precious, worthy of forgiveness, loved beyond measure by some higher power, than sobriety is the only path toward my salvation. Sobriety is not hard when you know what you’ve escaped by the skin of your teeth. When you’ve looked the beast in his dark eyes and ran for your life toward the light.


2 thoughts on “feels like I dodged a bullet

    1. Nice post.
      When I first flirted with the idea that alcoholism was a reality for me, I would, with the semi-confidence of many who have gone before me, don on my flack jacket of Denial, and venture inside the war zone.
      I failed to realize that with or without the flack jacket, head wounds are fatal.
      Lucky for me, I survived, though barely. The battle scars I have are a testament to risky behaviors-past, and with additional luck and grace, these reminders will impede any further foolhardy missions.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s