One-Dozen-Sober-Years.

This month I am officially reflecting on twelve years of sobriety.

Perspective is such a badass thing.

My recovery has transformed dozens of times. 
Every year in December, I take some time to let myself soak it in; I feel it all and I take stock of how things have changed. The phases. The tears, the work, and the victories. The grey areas, and the unknown. The small miracles, the unending Grace, and all of the time that has come and gone. What has stuck with me, who I have grown into, and all of the versions of myself that I have grown out of. 

There were years where my sobriety anniversary only represented my personal victory of getting sober and staying sober.
And sure.
I am genuinely appreciative that the problems that I face in my day to day life do not have anything to do with losing one of my shoes every other weekend.
I don’t miss constantly locking my keys in my car or waking up in strange places without any recollection of where my vehicle might be.
My days of waking up with pounding headaches on my face or with vomit in my hair are over.
No longer do I have to obsessively scan my carpet for accidentally dropped or ‘hidden’ pills that don’t exist so that feel empowered enough to crawl through another day.
I don’t have hours worth of complete black empty space to try to piece together or bury in my subconscious and I don’t have to clench my eyes closed to sift through fragmented flashes of scenarios that may have possibly happened the night prior, or not. 

None of that will ever escape me, but those are not the things at the forefront of my mind this year as I celebrate a new milestone. 

Aside from the occasional inside joke between my husband and I, that part of my story, despite being a thread woven into the fabric of who I am, is history.
That which used to frame my state of mind is not an approximate representation of what my recovery means or what I think of today when I use the term ‘Recovery.’

I have gone from counting sober days like a madwoman to losing track of recovery time.

From blindly following twelve-step protocol like a soldier to respectfully educating myself and moving on to blast my story as loud as I could out into the free world; rocking my own recovery the way that I want to, serving others how I feel most comfortable doing so without worrying about which barriers I could be barreling over or whose feathers I might be ruffling.

From being hyperfocused on sharing my story to hear the obligatory pleasantries, waiting to feel the congratulatory pats on the back, to sharing this thing called hope, and doing it solely for the people out there in this sometimes dark and stigmatized world who are still hurting, sharing with the world that even fuck ups like me can make changes, and if I can then it’s entirely possible for any human on Earth to take a few baby steps toward that new thing they desperately want to see or touch or feel or face.

This year I am celebrating things like contentment, life, joy, laughter, and awareness.

I spent over twenty years running.
TWENTY YEARS. 
Hiding from violence in my home.
Terrified of what might be coming my way next.
Running away from awareness. 
Diving into safety at the first sign of instabilty. 
Cutting off connections with other people.
Allowing my shame to consume me.
Letting my regret suffocate me.
Seeking rest and peace in hustle.
Begging for acceptance from people who didn’t value me. 
Digging for love in hearts that were never going to be mine. 
Accepting abuse as love believing that I needed more to be complete.

So the freedom that I celebrate today is so much more than a feeling of gratitude for not needing pills to function or alcohol to open up, or shit men to feel valuable. 
 
The freedom I celebrate today is more than sobriety.
It’s a lifestyle centered on awareness.
Flexibility over control.
Confidence, not pride.
Vulnerability as a strength.
Connection versus isolation.
I celebrate the ups and downs as triumphs, not because my life is perfect, but because I am able to accept that it isn’t, it won’t be, and it isn’t supposed to be.
I celebrate finding freedom from a constant need to self-destruct.
I celebrate having freedom from the chains that bound my mind to a specific mindset, and cutting ties with that insecure girl who felt hopeless and lost. rentgirls.ch

Twelve years ago when I began this journey I wasn’t expecting sobriety to blow the doors off of opportunity and I didn’t realize it at the time, but it would be the choice that saved my life and lead me to the most abundant and peaceful life that cannot be explained, but it blows my mind when I think about how much God has changed my life and how far from that girl I am today.