“Although she was drinking more than ever, she was frequenting bars less. Most of her drinking was done at home now, and she became a recluse, withdrawing from the real world into a realm all her own.
Nearly all of her waking hours were spent sitting on a bar stool alone in the darkness of our tiny kitchen. She wore nothing but a slip, day and night.
She drank, smoked cigarettes and sometimes muttered to herself. Occasionally she barked out orders to my father or me, but for the most part, she didn’t participate in our lives.
My mother had been reduced to not much more than an angry voice from the kitchen. At night, all I saw of her was the red glow on the end of her cigarette.” –Glenda’s Story, Led by Grace
Tears, mixed with regret for the past and gratitude for what is, filled my eyes as I read these words last night. But for the grace of God go I. This is me if I ever pick up alcohol again. Drinking provided a “safe” place for me to tune the world out. I wasn’t a fun, easy-going drunk. And at the expense of my family would I go to any length to stay in the place where the blinds to my heart and mind could be shut-even for a moment.
74 days ago God heard my prayer and delivered me day by day to the miracle of living sober. Without it, I have absolutely nothing.
CS Lewis nails it when he talks about Gods will for us vs our own:
“It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”