Managing The Madness So I Can Eat Cake

Today is my birthday. I am forty one years old and ecstatic to have reached this age. On Saturday, I will be six years clean and sober. I say that with confidence because I cannot remember the last time I craved a drink or a drug, or even romanticised the notion of using either. During good or bad times, the thought simply does not enter my head. I am managing the madness.

I am forty one years old and free to experience my humanity with all its complexities. I feel this humanity with depth and thoroughness. I am completely vulnerable to all the joy and pain. All the tears and laughter. All the anger and bliss. All the hate and love. I embrace it, sometimes with a tinge of fear – but mostly with complete abandon. All the ecstasy I sought through drugs and alcohol was already available to me. I just didn’t know how to extract it from myself. I trust myself to deal with the unknown and the consequences of jumping in blindly – simply because I am six years clean and sober.

I am forty one years old and yet part of me is still five. I read fairytales and sometimes write my own. Unrestrained, I cry and laugh about something everyday. My heart rules my head. I study people and stare a lot just like an inquisitive child. Someone told me just yesterday I unconsciously make funny faces. I dance and sing and even play dress up when the mood takes me. I am untidy and swear too much. I am rebellious, slightly insane, utterly myself and completely unapologetic about all of it – simply because I am six years clean and sober.

I am forty one years old and have lived most of my life chaotically. Each day I have had to unhook myself from this chaos – one hook at a time. I have had to learn how to protect my light from destroying my darkness and my darkness from destroying my light. I have blended them together and created multi-coloured splendour which now illuminates my world. I have no desire to hide any part of myself. Each event, good or bad, are now of equal importance – simply because I am six years clean and sober.

I am forty one years old and at last, a whole person. I have learned to trust myself and yet I’m just fine with making mistakes. I listen to myself first so I can hear when the destruction is rising up inside me. I am prepared now so I do not need to escape from it again. I ask for help because sometimes I can’t do it on my own. Living with recovery as my chosen lifestyle can, at times, be excruciatingly hard. But real living involves crippling hurt and that’s ok because – I am six years clean and sober.

I am forty one years old and standing in the middle of my life supported by past lessons learned, and feeling, tasting, touching everything that drugs and alcohol prevented me from experiencing since I was thirteen years old. I have today and the possibilities of all the tomorrows that may or may not come. I do not desire the numbness of addiction. I do not need the world to tell me I am acceptable or good or right. I am perfectly perfect and right where I am supposed to be.

I am forty one years old because I am six years clean and sober  -and today – I’m going to eat cake!