10/15/2015, day 1.
As I sit here on my couch, it brings me back to 11/18/2013, the day I
decided that my life was worth more than alcohol. The day I surrendered. I’ll never forget kneeling next to my bed that morning pleading with God
to help me, begging whoever was out there and could hear me for help. I had
finally realized that I could not do it alone. It was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made to become sober, but I
can tell you that I’ll never be the same because of that choice. I met some of the most amazing people
through recovery, and I gained a stronger relationship with
God, and with each person in my family individually. Waking up
on 11/18/2014 was a feeling I’ll never forget. I had completed one year of sobriety. I did it. I remember feeling like I had conquered the world, and that
there was literally nothing I couldn’t do. I felt peace. I
felt love. I felt like I had
finally become the Amelia I had always longed to be. I was proud of that Amelia, and looked forward to waking up every day. When I hit this milestone, my mom had a sobriety dinner for me at her house with all my siblings. At that dinner, each person in my family gave me a letter they had written congratulating me and telling me things that I had finally started to believe about myself. I was a warrior, I was strong. I could do anything I set my mind to. Today, I pulled out those letters and started to read.
From my mom...
"Dear Amelia,
What a difference a year makes! I am absolutely in awe of the changes you have made in your life and it goes without saying that there are no words to describe how very proud I am of you. I feel like at this moment in time, is the person you are meant to be. I know for a surety that Heavenly Father listens and answers prayer; that He is aware of each and every one of us, and that He has a plan for us. Even though it was so hard for me to watch you go down such a self-destructive path, you would not be the amazing young woman you are right now if it weren't for the things that you have gone through the last 10 years. I would not take that away from you for anything in the world. You are the most incredible example to every one of us that anything is possible if you put your mind to it and surround yourself with people who love and support you. I will be eternally grateful for the friends you have who decided to be there for you and help you in ways that maybe your family couldn't at times. I am so grateful for your family members who I am sure literally carried you in those times that were most dark, even your cute nieces and nephews who love and adore you so much. It has been such a privilege the last 30 years being your mom and to have a Heavenly Father that trusted me enough to see you through not only the hard times, but the joyful times as well. Always remember how very much you are loved by me. I want you to know that I will always be there for you. There isn't anything that you could do that would diminish that love in anyway. I want you to continue to live in a way that will inspire those around you to be better, just like you have been doing and to always be there for the people in your life that need help only you can give, just like you always do. You are truly special and are a shining star. You have a special way of making others feel so loved and I will always be grateful for the love and respect you show me. I know that you are always there for me too! I love you forever and always my baby you'll be! -Mom"
Today when I got out of bed, I felt empty, I felt depleated. But... as I read this letter, I could feel a little gleam of hope creep in. I caught myself smiling through the tears on my face. The words from my mom have made me believe that maybe I have the strength to finally destroy what has destroyed me. I can do this. Somewhere in this broken soul I am going to find the strength to fight
this beast one more time.
They say that relapse can become your greatest asset in
recovery. I find that strange,
since right now it feels like I have died. I suppose that’s what it’s supposed to feel like though. I think there has been a little part of
me that has died, the part that keeps my smile bright and a sparkle in my
eye. The part that makes me feel
like I can get up and dance and run and play. The part that makes my skin and everything about my countenance glow. One thing I do know to be
true is I have learned more about myself this time around than I did the first
time. I have learned that I
am stronger than I think. I have
learned that even when I feel like I can’t get up and face the world, I actually
can. I have had many of those days
the past few months and I have made it through. I’ve stepped out of bed, sometimes with shaky legs, but I
did it. I got up and faced the
day. My mind keeps going back to
the very first day I relapsed….Back in April.
I think what happens sometimes when you get comfortable in
sobriety is you feel like you can do it without working the program. You often think, “I’ve got this! I’m
good!”. I think there is part
truth to those statements, because, sure, you can stay sober. You can do it, but you must not forget
the one single thing that they teach you in recovery. Keep working the steps. Do the work every single day. It’s hard work, but in the end, it’s the kind of work that
will save your life. After I hit
my one year sobriety date is when I slowly stopped working the steps. It didn't happen over night, but eventually I stopped going to meetings, and I
kinda just started living my life as I did before. I wasn’t drinking, but I also wasn’t an active participant
in anything recovery. I was finally happy in my life. I felt
on top of the world. I had reached
my goal weight of 125 pounds, and had recently been promoted to Supervisor at
my job. Things were going well and I
was happy. People told me on a
daily basis that I glowed, and I thought I did too. Somewhere along the road I started thinking that maybe I could drink. I would lay in bed at night and wonder if I could have
control since things were going so well in my life. Maybe the reason I got so out of control before was because
I was in such a bad place. Maybe,
just maybe, I could do it. Maybe I
can be like everybody else. Now,
as I sit here and write this blog, dried up tears on my face, weighing 153 pounds, and feeling as low as I
did 3 years ago, I know that all of those things are false. I can’t drink. I am an alcoholic. April 5th, I relapsed. April 5th, I decided that my
sobriety didn’t matter and I took that first drink. I remember it burning as it went down my throat, and the
drunk feeling that I had forgotten about, there it was. I was drunk. I had given in. For a few weeks I felt like I had a little bit of
control. There were days that I
didn’t want to drink, and when I did, I would only have one or two. Slowly though, as the days went on, it
got worse, just as I knew they would when I took that first drink. I knew this would happen, but because of how my brain works, I was in denial. I was lying to myself just as I had done before. The last 6 months since I relapsed have had many ups and downs, and I've experienced things that took me to the edge. There have been many times where I have
found myself drunk at barely after the noon hour. Many
times where I wasn’t sure if I could even do this life anymore, and maybe I
should just throw the towel in.
It’s so easy to let the alcohol take over and make you feel so low that
you aren’t thinking rationally anymore.
So, just as I was pleading with God to help me 11/18/13, I found myself on my knees pleading again today. I feel grateful for this second chance I've been given, and even more than that, I am grateful for the tiny glimpse of hope that I am feeling today. In a letter from my dad, he wrote..
"I love you Amelia Bedilia, my beautiful little brown eyed gidl that I love more than I can express. What more can I say to you other than the fact that you and I have many more miles to go together on this journey before we sleep, and for this Dad that is my greatest joy to journey with you in this wonderful experience we call life."
So, here I go, this journey continues... 10/15/2015, the second "first day" of my life.
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