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Sober Living

Dear Alcohol

Dear Alcohol,

It’s funny how much I miss you and don’t miss you at the same time. Much like an ex-lover whose warm hugs haunt my memory but whose scathing insults remind me of why I left.

When I look back with sober eyes, I can see now that our relationship was never a healthy one. You let me feel on top of the world only to cut the platform beneath me and allow me to tumble downwards into the black abyss, collecting many bruises and scars along the way.

For a long time, I thought that the hurt you caused was worth it. I let myself believe that it was me, not you, who caused the problems. I cast you in any light other than the one that would force me to see the truth: you are poison.

It is true that you freed me for a while, letting words pour out of my mouth with ease as the nights sped by. I thought you were helping me only to wake up with chains around my body that got gradually tighter each day.

For years after those first sips, I lived in the centre of your storm clouds. Frightened and shaking, I tortured myself with questions of how I’d let myself end up there and wondered how I’d ever escape. You were everywhere. I thought there was nowhere to run.  

I was wrong.

As it turned out, I just needed the courage to take a leap of faith. When I did, I landed on a little pink cloud that was so warm and wonderful, I decided to stay. Here the mornings are glorious and the nights cosy. I am free to be me.

In the end, I’m glad I knew you. If you hadn’t beaten me down, I may never have known how strong I am, how determined I am, and how beautiful life is without you.  

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