I have officially spun around the sun for four fucking long decades. Unfortunately for me, I no longer have a celebratory vehicle to transport me into the majestic land of a dopamine rush. Surprisingly, and contrary to all my beliefs, I have learned that there is no greater high than the one I found when I decided to be still. Inside the silence that exists deep underneath the many layers of fear and anger lives a euphoria so pure and paranormal- it’s beyond my deepest of dreams.
I always wondered what would happen if I was not able to run after an endorphin high. My first active addiction was long-distance running. As my mental delusions progressed, so did my running. Eventually, my mind stopped listening to my body, and I found myself with a copious amount of running injuries. The worst in 2016 prevented me from running altogether and escorted me into the world of destructive addiction. I learned the inedible. I did not stop chasing highs; I only stopped pursuing them with running shoes. I turned in the sports bra for the support I found in a cocktail of booze, Ativan, and weed.
Today, though, does indeed feel like a reawaking. The change has not been only a matter of having changed my coping mechanisms. The way I show up in the world today is vastly different than how I have been trained to do so over the past forty years.
Early into what would become my millionth relapse, I shared at an A.A. meeting that I had lit a match on my life. I had debacle my marriage destroyed long-standing friendships with women I loved, stagnated my career, drank my money, demolished my savings and body. After the meeting, a woman approached me and said, “you forgot to mention that you salvaged the most important thing- your life.” Today I get to celebrate having saved my life in the process of getting sober, and though it has not been comfortable nor luxurious, it has been a rebirth.