I’m in the water. It is calm, but murky. I can’t see my feet. Something brushes against me. Is it dangerous? Seaweed? I can’t tell. I’m not panicking, but I’m not exactly happy either. I wish I could see under the surface. But do I even want to? 

I’m awake.

…

In two days I will have been sober for two months. It truly has been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, but also one of the hardest.  If you asked me in January if I thought this year I would give up alcohol for good I would have snorted in derision.

Of course not. I need that stuff. It’s one of the main things keeping me sane. It gives me something to look forward to, to reward myself with. It’s the only thing I have that quietens the chaotic tumble of my anxious thoughts. 

So what changed between then and now?

I drank to chill out, to feel as though I was a ‘fun and relaxed mum’ just for a few hours. The night it all changed wasn’t even particularly different to any other night. I was calm and happy for about half an hour, and then the downwards swing came and I was irritable, frustrated, angry. Dave was at a VCE Information Night and I tore around between bathroom and kitchen, trying to clean up dinner mess and supervise bath chaos. Ivy’s precious teddy was thrown into the bath and Hudson somehow managed to tilt the shower head so that it sprayed the ceiling. Harvey was throwing cars and the floor became lost under a sea of water. I lost it at them, an ugly spray of frustration and helplessness.

It isn’t even working. This isn’t making me feel better at all. 

I saw it then, with blinding clarity. This substance that I had imbued with magical powers suddenly appeared dull and dirty. I had become its slave, shackled to the ever-increasing dependency that it would somehow fix everything.

It never did. 

My journal entry from that night is tear-stained and broken. Capturing all the fears of stepping into the unknown, figuring out who my true self was again. It was terrifying. But there were tiny threads of hope woven through.

I wish I could go back to that version of myself now. To whisper words of encouragement and tell her how much better it would get. To tell her that in two months she would hardly think about needing a drink anymore, that she would discover so much about her own capabilities and face truths she had never she was brave enough to face.

It turns out that the things underneath the water aren’t so scary when you bring them up to the surface. The murky pool of my subconscious fooled me into thinking that I couldn’t handle the truth. That it was better to let the memories and dreams lurk where they could never hurt me. But it turns out that that is exactly where they hurt the most.

I’ve been facing my demons one by one – starting with childhood hurts and my health. Over the past month I’ve had difficult conversations, asked tough questions and begun to wrestle with how these memories and experiences could be affecting me now. I’ve had about four doctor’s appointments, three ultrasounds, one x-ray and one MRI. It has been exhausting at times – confronting the reality of my mortality, the possibility of illness and what that would mean for our family. So far, though, all investigations have been clear, and that feeling of gratitude and relief is priceless.

I’ve faced the chaotic whirl of my thoughts, delving enthusiastically into the luxurious practice of meditation. Those two blocks of fifteen minutes are some of my favourite parts of the day now, where I get the chance to just ‘be’, to calmly face the ever-expanding wonder of the internal universe and to picture the life I want to lead.

Why didn’t I just do all this before?

But I know why. Life is never that simple, is it? We go through everything for a reason, and life is our greatest teacher. Nothing is ever wasted and it all becomes part of our redemption.

If we allow it.

I’m thankful that I’m on this path now. That each step from here on out is towards my dream of becoming a published author of The Mastery Chronicles and treating each day as the rich and meaningful gift that it is. Life sure isn’t easy, but it turns out mindset is (almost) everything.

…

I’m in the water. The sun glints on the clear, rippling surface. I feel the sun on my face, the breeze caressing my skin. The deeper water beckons. I take a deep breath and go under. 

I’m awake.

…

What is holding you back today? How can you take that next right step towards living the life you want to lead? Let me know! I love to have these deep conversations and find others who are kindred spirits on this incredible journey.