Writing not smoking

I just realised how long I’ve neglected my very own writing void.

Not that I feel guilty, life’s been busy. I’m 9 months pregnant, acting on therapy cues, working out, driving for hours each day to make art and befriending strangers. As if that wasn’t enough already, I’ve also been writing for money. That thing I always need and never seem to have enough of.

But these are all excuses for neglecting something I started. A sobriety diary. An accountability journal. Something to help keep me focussed and perhaps even serve other addicts, curious to know what recovery could look like.

Well here’s what it looks like now:

Seven months and ten days sober today, and my excuses aren’t made up anymore. Nor are they riddled in shame and loathing and a gut-wrenching urge to run away.

I’m not “cured” but I also don’t feel sick anymore. My breath smells good, skin’s cleared up, hair is thick and body is healthy. I still cough up chunks of grey in the shower sometimes, which reminds me of the 11years I spent polluting my body from the inside out.

Not one of my personal problems have disappeared except the voice inside my head telling me to offload pain into substances. This allows so much space to actually do something about said problems.

[I like to think that’s also my baby cheering me on in between jabbing my ribcage and doing pelvic floor gymnastics, but who knows.]

My desire to use is completely gone, but I’m also attending weekly MA meetings online and staying in touch with members to cheer them on through relapses and temptation.

Sometimes I crave a cigarette for the motion alone, and thank myself for knowing better.

I’ve never felt more liberated than admitting I was powerless over cannabis. That only a power greater than myself could bring me to safety. That I would have to turn my will over to God to get out of the hell I’d created.

Because that is it: Hell. Addiction is a disease of the mind in which you trap yourself in your own madness. Hell. A seemingly never-ending cycle of broken promises, missed opportunities and mounting shame spirals as our resources deplete like our gumlines.

[remember to floss – and while you’re at it – brush your tongue]

My mind has changed on the legality of certain drugs. I wish weed were not legalised and commercialised anywhere it is not native to the land. But I do wish it were decriminalised all over the globe, because – seriously – give it up. If they can’t do that, we may as well bring back prohibition and give the “functional alcoholics” some equal representation in our justice systems.

But I’m not here to rant, just to celebrate.

In active addiction I never could have imagined going this long sober, now I can’t imagine anything worse than picking up again.

I can’t wait to give birth soon and experience the most painful feeling on earth in exchange for something as beautiful as life.