14 months ago I was on pain medicine and drinking heavily, in an inordinate amount of physical and emotional pain. My heart was broken from just trying to live. My daughter called me, heard my misery through my garbled words, and told me I must go to rehab.
Miraculously, the hospital social worker I called managed to understand me despite my incoherence. I don’t remember much, aside from throwing clothes in a bag and getting in a car. I had been blessed with a rehab bed THAT DAY- a true gift from G-d, who decided I still had more to accomplish on this Earth.
I ended up at Avenues Prince Frederick, where I was treated with dignity and respect although I was a mess and didn’t really deserve it. The entire staff here - and I mean every single one of them - were my second miracle that day. These people loved me through sadness, belligerence, anger, rudeness, and resentfulness - and finally acceptance.
After being in the residential treatment facility for around 1 month, I fought fiercely to go home. But my daughter held tight to her boundaries and “forced” me to stay. My love for her was more powerful than my desire to flee, and I desperately did not want to lose her. I stayed.
My biggest miracle has been my willingness to share my story and ability to be loud about my sobriety. All of you have held me through this time. Thank you all for the stories you have shared with me. For the love you have shown me. For the words of encouragement you have given me. For all of this, I am moved beyond words.
My life is a miracle. Twice I should have been dead. Twice I ended up staying, thanks to my daughter. I will continue to try to be a light for those who need it, to be loud about my sobriety.
I love you all for being a part of my recovery! Here’s to another 24 hours. Because in the end, that’s all I have - this 24 hours to live sober. This 24 hours to be a light.