My husband and I went on one of our walks Monday morning, getting a later start and moving slower than usual after spending 12+ hours in the car the previous day, and five whole days in the Central time zone prior to that. We’d both taken an additional day off to recover from our annual Midwestern vacation — and to celebrate another recovery milestone.
July 7 was my six-year sober anniversary.
This, naturally, was the topic of discussion as the two of us set off for our local state park, slogging through oppressive heat and soupy humidity, each carrying a hand towel to wipe sweat and shoo bugs.
I admitted to feeling kind of numb, or neutral, about the day, as I typically do about these “big” days. After six years, alcohol-free living is just regular old life. No big deal. But I was curious what he thought, since our lives are intertwined, and of all my loved ones, he’s the one who’s been with me the whole time in the trenches of addiction and recovery. He goes to 12-step meetings and therapy and really “gets” what’s going on.
“It’s impressive to me,” he said, swatting his towel at buzzing sounds in the air around his head, “because I think about how hard it is to do something consistently every day for six years.”
Is it? I’ve always been a determined and disciplined person for whom “hard” things seemed like requirements if they led to my chosen goal. Sadly, in my transition from adolescence to adulthood, the “goal” I chose was, “check out of reality by any means necessary,” and no one can deny I went HAM in chasing that for 20 years! 😳
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