I wanted to write something, even if it was short. Even if the words struggled to come into being in the seldom still moments of this day.
Two years of sobriety. This morning I was riding my highs and it hit me…This time two years ago I was writhing from withdrawal on the edge of losing it all. I dropped to my knees, tears of gratefulness streaming from my morning kissed eyes. I gave thanks. Humbled myself. Acknowledged the work, guidance and divine intervention that brought me to this place.
I wanted to write something profound about the lessons I have learned in my second year of sobriety, give some magical formula. But there is no magic. No easy way to freedom from addiction.
Sometimes life is a roller coaster and you miss the oblivion that substance offers. But each time you come through it and keep the beasts at bay, you come out stronger. That is what this last year has meant for me. It meant finding myself and refusing to let go.
My sobriety is about power. About reclaiming the power that I had lost first as a girl and second as an indigenous person. Yet the two have never been seperate in my oppression. Every day that I wake up and choose to live the life that I lead, I get a little more of that power back for me, my family, my community, for my people.