11 months

Two things I would get if I were a different sort of person: pink hair and a tattoo sleeve on at least one arm. But I’m not even a pink-streak sort of person, though I do have one small tattoo on my left hip of a winking sun that was loosely based on the Kellogg’s Raisin Bran sun because that’s actually the sort of person I am.

Last night I went to my first meeting in two weeks and the speaker had not one but two tattoo sleeves. His lack of eye contact and nervous gestures made him instantly likable, though he still looked like a tough biker, so I didn’t think I would relate much to what he shared. And I was wrong. He  talked about fear and how drinking squashed fear but turned him into the sort of man a divey motel owner had to chase off with a big stick, shouting “get outta here you drunken bum!” and still this hurt his feelings.

He was a guy with long periods of sobriety who got longer time in between meetings until he resented the hell out of the weirdos in them. Meetings do seem really weird once you stop going to them. Then one day he poured some of his mother-in-law’s vodka over a large tumbler of  ice and drank it quickly and didn’t feel shame or remorse and within a few weeks had his own bottle stashed in the garage.  Something about the way he described this made me realize I could do this too if I get too cocky or cavalier. Relapsing is my worst fear right after public speaking.

Last night I shared for the first time in two months. I hadn’t spoken at a meeting since the time I shared my newcomer’s story. This time I ignored my racing heart and how the others who shared before me said more or less the same thing I was planning to say, and I got some things off my chest and it felt right. I still worried what I said wasn’t helpful or was helpful but not entirely honest, but fuck me if I’ll ever know the right thing to say anywhere.

I also got my 11 month coin last night. I was a bit disappointed because several months ago our home group switched to bronze coins, but I got one of the leftover aluminum coins. It’s hollow and garish red and reminds me of the coins in my daughter’s play cash register. Next month I’ll get a bronze coin, assuming I make it to 12 months. I wonder how many people relapse in between their eleventh and twelfth month of sobriety. I’m guessing not many. For the last month or so, I felt like I was coasting towards a finish line I couldn’t quite see but knew was just around the corner. Now I can see the finish line, but I know I could still twist my ankle and go down if I don’t keep my shit together. A little fear is good for me.

What happens if I reach one year? Will it feel any more special than any of my other anniversaries? Will there be fireworks or cake or at least a sappy blog entry? Probably. I will probably palm my bronze coin for longer, but eventually it will join the aluminum coins in a coin purse I keep in the bottom of my jewelry box along with a cat broach I’ve never worn and a class ring I hated but wore because it cost so much and I paid for it with my own money. The real reward in sobriety is the time and attention I have for my children and the hope I feel for my marriage and my job and I guess life in general. Some days I lose sight of this because I am human and life is not always wonderful. But the improvements and hope are definitely there and they came from not drinking and trying to be a better person. I am grateful for a million and one things, but not having a drink in the last 11 months (and 2 days) is right up at the top.

11 thoughts on “11 months

Add yours

  1. They all mean something – another bunch of sober days strung together. I do vividly remember my first though…

    My coins go back in the tin to be given out again – but that is me… you got to give it away to keep it 😉 I just keep the one that is relevant and have it on my night stand – last thing I look at night, except my wife (!) and first thing I look at after hitting the alarm clock in the morning…


    1. Interesting idea about keeping the one and giving the rest back…never occurred to me. Think I will give all back but the 6 month coin unless there are rules against recycling them (we americans make some funny rules).


      1. In Sweden, we pass on our coins to others that we want to give them to. Like my 6 months coin, I got it from a friend at AA (who at that time had reached 18 months of sobriety) and I will pass it on to my friend Maud when she reaches 6 months in August 🙂


  2. I wonder what a year will feel like too. I remember going to a meeting early on (I only went to a handful) and chatting with a woman who had been sober 7 months. That sounded like an eternity for me. Part of me thought she must have all the answers. It’s funny now because obviously none of us do, no matter how long we’re sober. Congratulations on 11 months!


  3. Congratulations to 11 months (and then some)!! Gosh, well done – I long for being in the spot in which you stand right now.

    I am one of those idiots who relapsed in the 11th month, in my previous sobriety. The relapse before that was in the 10th month… so, I hope to reach 12 months of sobriety this time, and to NOT relapse ever again. Enough is enough.

    This was a marvellous blogpost to read, thank you so much for sharing!


    1. Don’t beat yourself up, I have started to see how easily it can happen. Sort of glad I didn’t see it that way early on! Keep up the hard work, I really admire your honesty and heart.


  4. Congratulations on your anniversary, count the next 30 days until you have that precious year. Than start all over again! The days, and months of ” one day at a time,” and yes on bad days one moment at a time will keep you sober. Good luck! The joy is in the journey!
    January 1979


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: