As I was sitting in the back of the treatment center last night, my heart fluttered with fear. My mind kept telling me that I wasn't as alcoholic as they are. Or, I'm not as good of an alcoholic as they are.
I didn't have to go through a detox. I didn't have to be homeless. I didn't have to go to the last house on the block, as this particular treatment center is called.
As I sat there listening to the ego-filled veterans give their spill on alcoholism, I felt twinges of pride and ego in myself rising up, resenting every word they had to say. They were so loud and boisterous, talking down to everyone in the room.
It was my friend's first night there. There weren't any beds open, so he'd be staying on the couch for a few nights until a bed opened up. All I wanted for him was to have good seeds planted between his ears. I wanted to protect him. I wanted to control what he heard. I wanted him to be safe and protected from the crazies.
I'm getting back to the basics myself. I've been in a sort of trance.
I wake up in the mornings, zip through my prayers, speed through the scriptures, and wonder why I'm drawing blanks. I'm wondering why I'm not getting anything out of what I'm putting in. I'm wondering why I can't be satisfied with the way things are. I'm wondering why churches can't be the way I want them to be. I'm wondering why the scriptures can't just lift me up and set me on solid ground. I'm wondering why I can't just be content and happy and joyful all the time.
My years of drinking have shown me what it looks like to live in a trance. I can easily get so caught up in something that makes me feel good, that it'll take all of me. It looks good at first, but then weeks or months later I wonder how it got so bad.
When I drink, I lose the intimate connection I have with friends. I lose the ability to trust God. I lose the desire to worship with a sincere and childlike heart. I lose the dignity that comes with having a full-time job. I lose the ability to wake up early to get the day started right. I lose the ability to realize what I'm doing wrong (or right).
Thank God I don't have to drink today, which means I don't have to lose these things today.
While I may not be walking on air (or water), I have the ability to expand on the things that mean a lot to me.
I get to go to work now.
I didn't have to go through a detox. I didn't have to be homeless. I didn't have to go to the last house on the block, as this particular treatment center is called.
As I sat there listening to the ego-filled veterans give their spill on alcoholism, I felt twinges of pride and ego in myself rising up, resenting every word they had to say. They were so loud and boisterous, talking down to everyone in the room.
It was my friend's first night there. There weren't any beds open, so he'd be staying on the couch for a few nights until a bed opened up. All I wanted for him was to have good seeds planted between his ears. I wanted to protect him. I wanted to control what he heard. I wanted him to be safe and protected from the crazies.
I'm getting back to the basics myself. I've been in a sort of trance.
I wake up in the mornings, zip through my prayers, speed through the scriptures, and wonder why I'm drawing blanks. I'm wondering why I'm not getting anything out of what I'm putting in. I'm wondering why I can't be satisfied with the way things are. I'm wondering why churches can't be the way I want them to be. I'm wondering why the scriptures can't just lift me up and set me on solid ground. I'm wondering why I can't just be content and happy and joyful all the time.
My years of drinking have shown me what it looks like to live in a trance. I can easily get so caught up in something that makes me feel good, that it'll take all of me. It looks good at first, but then weeks or months later I wonder how it got so bad.
When I drink, I lose the intimate connection I have with friends. I lose the ability to trust God. I lose the desire to worship with a sincere and childlike heart. I lose the dignity that comes with having a full-time job. I lose the ability to wake up early to get the day started right. I lose the ability to realize what I'm doing wrong (or right).
Thank God I don't have to drink today, which means I don't have to lose these things today.
While I may not be walking on air (or water), I have the ability to expand on the things that mean a lot to me.
I get to go to work now.
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