Paradoxicality, yeah

I'm feeling quiet tonight, even for me. Not in a bad way at all; more a reflective one.

Today was day 82. Nothing special about it, just another subtly miraculous day in early sobriety. I opened the refrigerator this afternoon, imagined I glimpsed a bottle of wine, and wanted it desperately; I smiled at myself; I ate ice cream; I pondered my Higher Power questions; I went to a meeting. I felt resentful and hopeful and grateful, in turns, just as I do every day. The dog and the cat and my mom loved me and made me crazy, in turns, just as they do every day. I worried and tried to release the worries; I missed someone too much; I wrote in my journal; I forgave myself for small imperfections.

I didn't drink.

Now I'm in bed, laptop on lap, cat snoozing alongside me and dog curled at the foot of the bed. I like my life. I mostly hate living at Mom's, and I'm way beyond flat broke, and I feel sorry for myself much more often than I'd like to. But I like my life and I know myself better than I ever have and I didn't have to drink today.

Subtly miraculous? Try earth-shakingly. How'd I get here, anyway? If I hadn't smashed my head on the doorframe, hadn't put away half a case of wine in five days, hadn't picked the horrible drunken fight with A at that party, hadn't traded my life savings and my dreams for night after night with my drug of choice, hadn't admitted to myself that I could never have a baby after all because I'd never be able to give up alcohol for nine months--if I hadn't fallen so low in so many ways, I wouldn't be here now. And here is good.

One of the promises of AA is that "we will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door upon it." I'm a long way from that kind of lasting peace, but tonight I can almost sense the possibility of it. Talk about a brilliant paradox.