I once heard..’No one has ever committed suicide by holding their breath’.
I’ve also heard…’Load the cart, don’t worry about the mule’.
I never get tired of looking into the night sky here. The stars are brilliant, and the silence is, well, deafening. Moving from the inner city to the middle of nowhere has had some advantages. This is one of them, as for the others, they are few and far between. I thought in moving that somehow I had thought of everything and have come to find out I really knew nothing at all in the first place.
I second guessed the economy, I second guessed the job market, I second guessed family involvement, and I second guessed myself. All that being said as I drive home from an exhausting day at a job where I am entry-level instead of management there is a sense of pride. That I accomplished something in my mind, that if I can do it here, I can do it anywhere.
Most days I keep to myself. I really don’t have anyone to talk to. It’s not that I have a ton of stuff to say, but the days do get lonely at times. My relationship with my wife, I believe, has become stronger. We aren’t as distracted as we once were, but it gives us too much time to focus on the children and their every move. It’s not to say the kids were left to run like wild animals in the city, but here, there aren’t many opportunities, and when there are like basketball games and such we tend to be overprotective by default.
I have learned that recovery comes from both within and without. I am not afforded the luxury of just ‘leaving to go to a meeting’. I am faced more with life than I ever have been. These past 7 months have been the most difficult in my recovery. I have compromised myself to the point of almost using. To be honest the only thing that has kept me from using is knowledge that if I pick up I will surely die, in more ways than one.
The thing that has been missing, is me. I have not been participating in my own life. I have been using excuses and anger to fuel petty resentments and apathy. I can use anything like a drug, including myself. Odd statement isn’t it?
As I write this I have been clean for 4 years, 11 months, and 21 days. I made a promise to myself, my Higher Power, and my family….That if God would help me, I would try. That’s what I said beside the bed in detox with tears streaming down my face….That I would try.
I’m not ready to give up on that. I can hold my breath for a long time, but not forever. I need to breathe life back into…..Me.