It was cold, wet, and dark. I looked down at my feet and had slides on with socks. An attempt to keep warm, maybe? I was walking around aimlessly, feeling anxious and confused. I slipped in a puddle of mud, and my shoe came off. My foot was now soaked and dirty, “mother fucker” I whispered. The night sky was grey, and the trees were dark; it must have been late night or almost morning. I yawned, and that familiar taste of bitterness had crept into my mouth. I sat on the sidewalk to adjust my slide, ripped off my soggy sock and started crying. I had relapsed. I was drunk and the half pill of Percocet in my pocket reminded me that I had 3 to start the night. What the fuck was I thinking? How did I end up here? I just made a year, now to start all over…. what will I tell the girls? Do I even go to meetings now? I’m now walking with these questions in my head. I pass a mirror in the middle of nowhere. I stare at myself and my eyes are sunken in with bags under them, my hair now matted from sweat and somehow, I’m only in a tank top and sweltering even though the air is cold. I stare at myself for what seemed like an eternity. I looked like the fragile and broken girl I once was from years ago. I grabbed the last half of the Percocet and I woke up.
I’m not too fond of relapse dreams. I even hate the word relapse but that was a dreadful reminder of how quickly things can happen. Today I am 415 days alcohol free but I know that can quickly change by just one moment of ego saying, “you can have just one”. I am confused why I had this dream but sitting here typing in reflection I think it’s safe to say I have been romanticizing the drink a lot this week with St. Patty’s Day on the forefront. Yesterday our family decided to skip a party. It would have been nice to see and spend time with the people we love but this was a holiday solely dedicated to drinking, I still don’t exactly know what to do if I’m not doing the thing, especially at a party. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done my fair share of parties, I bring my NA drinks and mingle socially without a problem but this one was going to hit a little different. Its safe to say I am glad we didn’t go and I am pleased with that decision.
It took me a long time to get comfortable saying no events where I usually would have been first at the door. I’m finally slowly getting comfortable with being uncomfortable. I don’t feel the need to explain why I won’t go or didn’t go. Protecting my sobriety at all costs is still most important because it only takes that one time, that one drink, that one pill, for everything to spiral.