Another miracle

I haven’t drank or drugged in one year 24 days, and that is a friggin miracle. No it isn’t. It isn’t a miracle. It’s the result of a series of miracles. More than I can name, count, or probably even realize. Last night God used two wonderful friends of mine to save me in a moment of certifiable insanity. I’m really not sure which is the bigger miracle…that they care so much or that I actually stopped in the midst of Hurricane Pain and listened to them.

Andrew overdosed last night. Planned it. Checked himself out of rehab, searched out enough junk to throw a party with and shot it into his body. He didn’t even say goodbye. But as angry as I am with him right now, and I am, I understand. When you’re hurting the way he was, you can’t think of anyone else but yourself. Hell, I can remember in my letter to my wife I wrote as the pills I took trying to kill myself in 99 took effect that I said she’d be better off with me dead. I felt everyone would be. I strongly suspect that Andrew felt the same.

But when C. told me the news, I lost it. Instant insanity. And of course, in case there was any doubt that I am still sick, my first thought was…Baccardi. Thankfully, the bartender, who knows me well, refused to serve me. JD quickly said we could leave and refused to give me any of her drink. I agreed to leave for three reasons. One, I didn’t really feel much like shooting pool any more. Two, I didn’t really feel like breaking down in a sobbing mess in the middle of a pool/dance hall full of people. Finally, I knew if I left before closing I could make it to a store before time to purchase alcohol expired.

Yeah, that last one isn’t a very good reason I know, but it was what I was thinking. Didn’t happen though. JD and I talked in the parking lot a few minutes until I could pull myself together enough to drive. She may not have realized I was doing it, but I prayed like it was the last thing I was ever going to do. Guess it could have been, but God heard my prayer. Helped me to listen. To remember that I have people that care about me. To think about the fact that if I followed Andrew back into the Enchanted Forrest and died there I’d be doing to everyone I claim to care about the very same thing Andrew did to me. What I have tried to do to loved ones before. What I hurt over so much because of the many who have done it to me.

I don’t want that today. I don’t need to search for the unholy grail of oblivion. She’s as easy to find as a spider web in the dark and as hard to escape from. I lived the life of the fly struggling against that web too many years. Only the grace of God saved me from the spider and set me free. I can’t willingly and or purposefully fly back into it. But I almost did.

Last night served as a reminder that I must remain vigilant. Must be on guard. Because when I hurt, my first instinct is make it stop, NOW, no matter what. Even death fails to frighten me enough to deter me from the possibility of escape. But if I can pause, take a mental step back and ask for help, God always has another way of escape. A better, even if slower way. Some things are supposed to hurt. To feel nothing at the loss of someone I love is not a blessing. It’s inhuman. We were made to feel. In order to feel and experience the good in the fullest way, we must also be able to feel the bad. You can’t experience love without risking pain, but it’s worth it. I can’t appreciate the good times if I refuse to experience the not so good or even the horrible. I remember that today, but last night….

It seems that while under normal circumstances I can work at being able to do what I need to do to do the next right thing and stay clean and sober. But even after a year clean and sober there are plenty of times that I still need God to do for me what I can not do for myself. And He will…if I will let Him.