For a long time, I had failed to see my purpose. I lived my life on impulse, without structure or guidance. I allowed others to walk all over me, in fear setting boundaries would upset them. The more I drank the farther I fell. I had become insidious, manipulative and jaded. I was a different person one moment to the next. I was taken advantage of and took on the role of a victim. Although what I was going through was treacherous and vile, I choose the worst possible way of dealing with it. People that were close to me pulled away, some even gave up. Before I could even blink, I had successfully boxed myself into a corner. Alone.
When you are looked at as a disaster, it is hard to shake that stigma. People often expect the person they are used to seeing. I remember when I told a close friend I was not going to drink anymore, he laughed in my face. I was angry, I couldn’t believe he would laugh in my face. Looking back, I think “Really?!” How could he not laugh? Something that was said a million times before and never followed. How could anyone believe in me? I couldn’t even tell you one thing that was good about me. I could cry to you all day about the hardships I had been through, but I couldn’t once tell you how I would fix it.
It has been over a year since my last drink, that, however, is definitely not the most important part of my journey. I can’t tell you I will never drink again, what I can tell you is that I am not at a point in my life where I feel together enough to try. The importance of this past year has been to find who I am. Prior I was the small blonde who was white girl wasted every day, making excuses for my behavior, crying on my bathroom floor hating myself. I forgot about the past so I wouldn’t have to deal with it and let it go. My worth has always rested on the shoulders of others. I could talk a big game, give great advice and act like an idiot but I couldn’t for the life of me get it together. I was broken, with no mending skills. I was an angel without wings.
It’s funny what a year can do to you, I was never a nerd. I barely read and I couldn’t get through a single superhero movie. I currently read about 3 or 4 books at once. 2 or 3 graphic novels and a novel. I am enthralled in a world of fantasy. I am no longer the social butterfly I was as a teenager. Instead, I would rather spend my time at home alone, or with the few people who I feel comfortable with. These days I am stuck between a compassionate heart and a hate for people. I am convinced every new person I meet has an agenda. If you are nice, I wonder why. If you are horrid, I wonder why. Everything is a question. I used to be someone who always looked for the good in people because I honestly believed there was something good inside everyone. Now I look for what is hidden, the part of you, you are unwilling to share. My compassionate heart wins sometimes, I find myself hoping that people will change like I did. I find myself caring too much, loving to hard, trying to believe the impossible. I had to teach myself to be selfish, I had to learn how to cut people out of my life without question, explanation or reason.
Sometimes, I wish I was a child again. Riding my tricycle, giving zero fucks. Now, I shelter those I love from our cruel world, from the hurt and the pain and hope they choose a different path than I did. Maybe I have found my purpose…