Sobriety
Three Years Ago, I Had My Last Drink
My alcoholism sucked away fifteen years of my life, but thanks to sobriety, it’s not over yet.
It’s funny what the human brain remembers. It’s funny what it chooses to forget, too.
Here’s something I remember vividly: April Fool’s Day, 2019. On that particular day, I remember that there were no pranks to make me smile; no lighthearted fun to make my family giggle.
Nothing was funny. Nothing.
My husband and I had just had our biggest fight ever, and the dreaded “D” word popped up seriously for the first time in our seven-year marriage. There were hurtful words hurled with venom and vitriol; random household objects destroyed in fits of rage — anger taken out on inanimate objects and not each other because even in our fury, we still loved each other too much to resort to that.
But we hated each other, too. A little.
The reason for the fight itself was something unmemorable — something mundane, probably. My brain conveniently chooses to forget that part.
Probably because it doesn’t really matter. It wasn’t about that; whatever “that” was.
