January 23, 2024

Last week I shared a post and it wasn't me. It was a version of me, circa 2018, but not who I am now. I'm on the other side of sobriety, deconstruction, three years into therapy, and the loss of all this baggage that I used to carry around like some martyr. 

I'm not that woman anymore and that's all I've thought about this entire week, how I tried to share a piece of something that wasn't exactly truthful for the sake of sharing something when I hadn't the time or mental capacity to put it out there in the first place. I was so busy with other stuff that I didn't even write last week. No journal entries. No gratitude journal. No novel writing and surely no blog writing occurred.  

Last week was a dumpster fire and I completely forwent my regular boundary-setting, mindful activities. It was the perfect set-up for the unraveling that actually happened, so I settled with something I'd written when I was shoulder-deep in women's ministry at a church that I've maybe only stepped foot in twice since 2020. 

There are things I can say about right now that are enough. Like, how last Thursday, everything I'd been preparing for was thwarted by sickness and things completely out of my control, and this realization that there was nothing I could say or do that would change the outcome, and for the first time in a long while, I was actively considering having a drink amid all the chaos. I drove past two Targets, two Harris Teeters, one Whole Foods and numerous gas stations, contemplating my escape. I oddly thought of the first drink I ever had, Smirnoff Ice, Triple Black, and my favorite staple, Southern Comfort. I imagined how they would taste and how it would feel for those few seconds if I allowed myself the possibility. 

I immediately called my husband because I knew I was weak. I was alone and stressed out and I thought I needed a break. That kind of break. I settled on five chocolate, sea salt and caramel take and bake cookies from Aldi and the magical thing about it, or maybe just the oddest thing, was my sober buddy sent me a picture she'd taken around the time I was having my moment, of a cactus, that she'd seen on a hike that morning, on the west coast. 

The cactus was the inspiration I had for my sober tattoo. She'd taken a picture of one, that now sits above my computer as a reminder to myself, with its bright pink bloom among the thorns and desert. J asked her to send it to me for my soberversary and it's incredibly special. We hadn't spoken in awhile and I can't explain how it happened or explain why. Just that God shows up when things seem to blow up. 

Which brings me to my next point, that I feel is worth mentioning due to last week's post, because my relationship with God isn't the same as it was in 2018.  

I did the deconstruction thing. I couldn't understand how everyone around me was sold on ignoring certain troublesome things about certain leaders and it completely consumed me to the point that I wasn't interested in being evangelical and began questioning my allegiance. It was so easy to get wrapped up in it. The politics, the banter, the bull. I was done. I didn't want to be a part of it. I didn't want to be anywhere near it. 

I was living two completely different lives. I was who people saw and my true self. I was ashamed that I had questions about God.  I felt like a fraud. I pulled away from friends and family. I started drinking more. I was in therapy but I was doing that thing you do when you aren't ready to change; hiding and I was good at it. 

I downloaded TikTok and began following accounts that had similar stories to my own concerning organized religion and the abuses by those in "power." Hashtag#Deconstruction was my jam. My family and close friends worried that I wouldn't come back from it. They worried that I would get to a place and not desire to come back, but I was determined, no matter what happened, to see it through. 

I had to tear it all down to build my relationship back up in a way that worked for me. I had questions, so I asked them. I discovered what I believe and what I could and couldn't accept. I learned there was a difference between my personal faith and religion. I had hard conversations with close friends and honest introspection sessions with my prayer journal, and I was able to reach a place that enriched my personal relationship with God. Years of teachings that didn't jive fell away and I was left with what I have now, a tremendous and continuous respect for my Creator. 

I'm still learning. I don't know everything and I'm able to say I made mistakes along the way, but I try and make amends now. I listen to people and try not to judge them or assume the worst based on their personal beliefs and my prejudices. I'm wiser. I don't fall for just anything anymore and I am capable of setting healthy boundaries. 

I "do my best and leave the rest," that's a quote from the animated Black Beauty movie I watched as a kid. There are still things that concern me and things that are going to take longer to get over, but I'm healthy. I'm aware of how my choices affect those that I love and I absolutely am in love with my life as it is now. I'm capable of forgiveness. I've forgiven myself, even, something I never thought possible. I'm not the woman I was in 2018.

It's 2024 and I've learned a lot. I'm still learning, and I'm capable of things I never had the fortitude for, before. I don't lie and I'm not a fraud. 

I am 478 days sober and if that's not magical, I don't know what is. 🌻